By FoxFaceStories

A Commission for Xerxes76

Since being transformed from an ordinary man to the powerful (and busty) Meteor Woman, Kara has come to love her new superheroic life. She’s in love with an investigative reporter, she’s closer with her family, she’s doing good in the world, and . . . she’s pregnant! But with all these changes on the horizon, new threats rise up. A shady real estate mogul wishes to tear apart the community she has helped protect, and she must find a way to stop him, all while dealing with an ever-growing belly!

First Part

Previous Part

Next Part

Original Here: Meteor Woman

Post-Story Commission: Meteor Woman: The Stories After

Issue 7: Calm Before the Storm

Harrison Blackwell did not lose his temper. He did not. He would not. He was a calm, measured man in control of every single facet of his life, every shimmering perfect surface, so that he was as serene as a pristine lake, cool as the icy depths of hell. It did not matter to the laptop that he threw violently across the room, however. It smashed to pieces, the screen shattering loudly.

“What do you mean . . . aborted!?” he hissed at Hope, who was looking a little bit nervous despite her usually equally calm demeanour.

Her implant whirred, but she said nothing.

“Well!?” he demanded. “Going to say anything, Hope? I gave specific instructions to attack the march. We had our latest pets ready to deploy! I made assurances to city hall and more than a few state senators in my pocket that this new ‘Save Metropole’ movement would be halted and put back in the box. That all this talk of corruption wouldn’t reach the news; just the latest horrific tragedy caused by the violence lawlessness of these ants.”

Hope swallowed. Her implant stopped whirring. “Sir, with respect. You said to only give the go ahead under ‘acceptable conditions.’ The margin was set at fifty percent success. I ran the projections numerous times. Success was calculated at a mere twenty-nine percent. There were too many heroes, too much messaging pre-empting the idea that you would attack. The blowback would be too much to control, even for us.”

Blackwell clenched and unclenched his fists, then took a long, slow breath. He regained himself, his measure of calm that allowed him to be . . . invincible. 

“Very well,” he said. “Perhaps I was . . . hasty, Hope. It was, if not the right call, then the reasonable one. But present developments cannot be allowed to continue. It’s like . . . she knows everything I’m doing in advance.” He turned to face the screens behind him all of which displayed Meteor Woman. Even pregnant, she was a beauty. Hell, perhaps more so. Harrison had never desired children - his legacy should be his and his alone, after all - but he couldn’t deny that her gravid appearance, her maternal breasts, the way her figure had filled out in all the right places had its own . . . appeal. He once again calmed his mind. He would pleasure himself to the image of her swollen with his child, subjugated to his will, at a later time. For now, there was simply the pursuit of her defeat.

“It’s her,” he said. “No matter what she says, it’s her organising this, or at least spearheading it. Years of work undone because the ‘Hero of Star City’ chose to retake her crown. Hope, tell me our latest wave of hit pieces are working.”

The woman paused, implant whirring. He tapped his foot impatiently.

“Reasonable success in older demographics, particularly among religious groups,” Hope said automatically. “But . . . it’s undeniable that with more news coming to light about your developments in the neighbourhood - much earlier than we planned - the tide of opinion is shifting.”

“She went into a fight while pregnant!” “Yes sir, but the largest attack had her screaming that her family was hurt. We have been unable to identify who said family were, but it’s driven the narrative since.”

“A mere bad chance,” Harrison muttered. He turned up the volume on a screen. It was an interview between that insipid reporter Ralph Riley and Meteor Woman. It was undeniable that the pair had crackling chemistry. Perhaps they were having an affair? He was married to that other busty, pregnant blonde Kara Conway, the one who was, somehow, not Meteor Woman. Perhaps the man wanted one last step up the ladder; his reach exceeding his grasp. Well, Harrison could understand that. Not that his grasp ever failed.

“Hope, organise a meeting with Ralph Riley. If we can turn him against her, then we might yet have a chance. Everyone knows he’s her favourite reporter. Let’s drive a wedge between Star City’s favourite hero, and its most beloved reporter.”

Hope nodded. “Yes, Mr Blackwell. I’ll get right on that.”

She moved, but he held up a hand. “Wait, Hope. One last thing.”

He looked her up and down. She was beautiful to him . . . once. But now her slender supermodel good looks were missing something. Not enough curves. Not enough . . .

“Get your hair dyed blonde,” he said.

The woman’s mouth hung open. For once, all sense of professionalism was gone.

“Did I stutter?” Harrison said slowly.

“N-no, sir,” she said, bowing briefly before darting away.

Harrison returned to look at the images and footage of his most hated enemy. Meteor Woman. A ridiculous blonde bimbo. She would not stop his dream from coming true. And yet, as always, he couldn’t deny her . . . magnetism.

Perhaps he needed to schedule a boob job for Hope as well.

***

The mood was festive at Sally’s apartment. It felt just like the old days for Kara, at least in some ways. Her and her much younger sister Alexis helping to get food organised.

Only I’m not a schlubby guy with short man syndrome anymore. And I’m a superheroine. And I’m blonde. And I’ve got a baby in my belly. And there’s actual frickin’ heroes bringing potluck. Okay, so maybe it’s not like the old days at all.

Which was a damn good thing. Sally wasn’t sick and slowly dying anymore, and Alexis had come right out of her shy, geeky bubble now that she was a hero herself. It made Kara glad that her little sis was more comfortable in her own rakish brunette form these days - knowing she could turn into a busty blonde Ward in a golden leotard at the drop of a hat probably rid her of any body anxieties on that front. Not that they were dressed like that right now: Alexis was in some pop culture t-shirt and cargo pants, while Kara was wearing a lovely blue maternity dress Ralph had gotten her, one that cupped the underside of her belly and really showed how truly pregnant she was now. She decided she didn’t even mind the look of it. Why not show off?

“You look happy, kiddo,” Kara said as she got the chicken out of the oven. She didn’t need to use oven mitts at all; she just grabbed the tray thanks to her invulnerability. 

“I am!” Alexis said with a grin. “I’ve got my big sis back.”

Kara placed the chicken up on the counter and cocked her head at her sister. Her little baby was doing a dance inside her womb again - it would come as no surprise if this one got superpowers down the line.

“Now, whaddaya mean by that?” Kara said, leaning on her old nasally voice a little jokingly.

Alexis giggled. “Just that you seem to be a true hero again. I mean, not that you ever stopped. But for just a second there, I was wondering if I should make Ice Shard my favourite hero.”

“Ice Shard? Are you kidding? Come here, you!”

Alexis dodged out of Kara’s reach artfully, not that the latter was using her superreflexes. Sally laughed from her seat in the lounge room.

“Just like your big sister when she was a kid!” the woman joked. “He was quite the naughty, uh, girl.”

Kara could have rolled her eyes. I love you, mom, but we have guests.

Marli and Leticia were eating with them, as was Vicki, AKA Flame Dancer, who already knew Meteor Woman’s true male past. But their new civilian friends didn’t, and given that Kara had now gone almost four years without a pair of balls and a dick between her legs, she didn’t really want people to think about that when they saw her now.

“Chalk it up to growing up in the Metropole!” she said.

“Oh, don’t start that!” Leticia said. “I’ll have no Metropole slander while we’re literally trying to save it.”

“Trying?” Kara said. She approached the table and kissed her husband on the cheek, guiding him to his seat. “I’d say we were succeeding! Between the marches, the sit-ins, the petitions to the government, the online media that Imelda is a whiz at - I fear what her future students are gonna be able to do - it really feels like a David vs Goliath situation here.”

Ralph chuckled. “Honey, no offence, but you’re also quite a goliath.”

“How so?”

“You’re one of the most powerful superheroes on the planet and you’re literally six-foot-two tall.”

Vicki snorted at this, and Marli cracked up out loud. Kara blushed. “Okay, ya got me there. Still, it’s a start, isn’t it?”

“That it is,” Sally said. “And I’m so very happy to have friends and family here at the table. Not to mention my favourite little granddaughter, isn’t that right, Dinah? Isn’t that right?”

Dinah was jumping up and down on the older woman’s lap excitedly. “Want a cookie!” she proclaimed. “I want a cookie!”

“Then a cookie you shall have, sweetie!”

Kara groaned. “Mom! Stop spoiling her!”

“That’s what being a grandma is all about, kiddo!” Sally proclaimed happily, before continuing to tickle Dinah.

God, where was this treatment when I was a kid? Kara thought. I always got a flick on the ear when I got caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

They settled down for dinner, which thanks to Sally’s touch was absolutely delicious in a way Kara’s cooking never, ever was. Still have the male cooking gene, I guess, she mused privately. Ice Shard arrived a little late, giving no apology as was her way, but was very courteous to Sally and thankful for the food.

Afterwards, when everyone retired to the living room, Kara had to excuse herself to go take Dinah to bed. The little girl’s energy was starting to collapse, so Kara read to her the book about the moon cow that she loved so much, then let Dinah rub her pregnant dome.

“Mommy, I’m so excited for the baby!”

“Me too, kiddo,” Kara said. “Put your hand here. Tell me what you feel.”

Her daughter’s eyes widened massively. “A kick! A kick! Tell grandma!”

She ran off, and Kara could only chuckle. Great, she thought. Now to wrangle her back to bed again. That proved to be another ten minute struggle, another book, and a story. Kara told the one about the short, naughty thief who had to be told a lesson, and then became a hero. It was pretty accurate to her own life, albeit there wasn’t so much focus on her growing a big pair of tits and getting stuck with a cleavage window. In fact, there wasn’t a gender change at all!

“Goodnight, kiddo,” Kara whispered, kissing her daughter on the head. 

“Soon, baby.”

“Yeah, soon. Just two months.”

“Many sleeps.”

“It will be quicker than you think, I promise.”

She waddled out of there, one hand on her back and the other stroking her pregnant stomach idly. Quicker than I think too, Dinah. God, I have to spread my legs and push a baby out of my damn cooch. Again. Like it wasn’t weird enough the first time. You’re lucky I really wanna meet ya, kid.

She winced as her breasts tensed. 

Ugh, and you’re lucky that your momma’s got a real set of milkers, because I never imagined I’d ever be breastfeeding a baby, but I’ll damn well have to thanks to these jugs.

Kara smirked, feeling a little proud of her big ‘mommy milkers’, as she would have once thought of them back when she was a man. She caught her pregnant appearance in the hall mirror as she passed and took a look at herself in profile.

“Yeah, you can get it, lady,” she said, before blowing a kiss.

She was ready to engage in good cheer with her friends and family when she returned, but things had fallen oddly silent. Ralph was on the phone, and Marli and Letician both looked a little worried. Ice Shard had arrived, her own stomach protruding more and more each day, and she was in her maternity hero costume, which only emphasised it further. She was adjusting her outfit idly, and Kara saw an opportunity to pull up beside her against the wall. She grabbed a glass on the way - non-alcoholic, of course. Damn, I miss a good beer. Don’t miss the beer belly, though I guess I ended up with quite the belly anyway, ha!

“Damn breasts have gone up another cup size,” Ice Shard said bitterly, adjusting her outfit again. “How on earth do you cope with those bowling balls on your chest, especially since you were once a man?”

Kara snorted. “My meteors, thank you very much, haven’t you read the online commentary? And superstrength helps, though the wobbling is still . . . an issue. But you’ve got nothing to complain about. You’re barely half the size of my bust.”

“Oh, very amusing. Like I want to be a top-heavy cow.”

“Ice Shard, I was just starting to tolerate you, and then you say shit like that.”

The cold woman swallowed. “Okay, I’m sorry. That was too much.”

“Cheers, I think. Why’s everyone so silent? Don’t tell me Mother Nature went into labor. She couldn’t make it to a community meeting today.”

“It’s not that,” Ice Shard said. “It’s worse. Harrison Blackwell is on the phone with your reporter husband.”

Kara froze. She looked over to Vicki in her wheelchair, who nodded slowly. Alexis looked on edge as well, and Leticia and Marli were the same. Only Sally didn’t grasp the full extent of the matter, but she wasn’t part of their world in quite the same way, though she had marched with them recently. Still, even she looked a little concerned, as if able to connect the dots that people were worried for a good reason.

If he’s threatening my husband, I’m seriously gonna kill the fucker.

“Kara!”

It was Alex, and Kara paused. She had squeezed her fists and crunched the glass in her hand down into sharp shards.

“Shit,’ she said. “Sorry. Hang on.”

She lowered herself carefully, as a pregnant woman has to do, by squatting, and manually picked up the pieces. But she was so distracted by Ralph, who had moved to the kitchen to continue the call. That was the damn asterisk when it came to superhearing - it was always on, but how often does anyone really pay attention to the background noise in their life? Kara cursed herself for not catching Blackwell’s voice earlier.

I thought it was just another interview, or a clip on Marli’s phone. God help me, if he’s making threats to a reporter, to my husband, I’ll damn well-

Ralph ended the call and strode back into the living room. There was a tension in the air as everyone waited with baited breath to hear what he had to say. Then, to their shared astonishment, he smiled.

“Looks like I’ve got an interview with Harrison Blackwell,” he declared.

Kara quickly wiped away her tears of fear. Damn pregnancy hormones, she thought. Then she moved to her husband and embraced him.

“Damn it, you had me friggin’ worried there, Ralphie!”

“Ralphie?” Ice Shard asked.

“Pet name,” Alexis said. “You should hear his for her, it’s-”

“Shush, kiddo,” Kara told Alex. “Adults are talking. It’s a real interview?”

Ralph grinned. “Yep. Unedited. A full half-hour. He aims to put his case forward. He’s a slimy guy, I’ll give him that. Well-spoken too, but I think I can handle myself.”

“My sexy attack dog,” Kara said, picking him up with ease. “This could be the moment we break him, Ralph!”

Her handsome husband kissed her. “Superheroes, eat your hearts out.”

Half the room possessed superpowers, and as one, they jokingly booed him.

***

For half an hour, Harrison Blackwell sparred with the intrepid reporter Ralph Riley. He was far from a mild-mannered figure. The husband of Kara Conway was of average height and had slightly messy black hair and ordinary glasses - not even premium quality - but his intelligence was fierce. If he wasn’t so sincere, Blackwell would have been delighted to put him on the payroll. He hit out with questions that flanked Harrison, kept trying to pin him on certain subjects.

“Mr Blackwell, what do you have to say about the mounting allegations that you are bribing local officials to clear the way for your projects?”

“Mr Blackwell, that’s twice you’ve avoided that question. I’ll repeat it.”

“Mr Blackwell, you’ve repeatedly called the community of the Metropole ‘nonexistent’, and yet we have seen repeated demonstrations in recent days that show just the opposite of that. Care to explain if your view has changed?”

But Blackwell was no stranger to hard-hitting journalists. He’d had a number of them killed in less savoury countries, but here in the land of the free, he was equally adept at . . . dismantling them.

“Ah, but Mr Riley, your bias is showing in your reporting. Your own family was present at a number of the rallies, and it’s no secret that you support their ideologies, the very ones that have made the heartland of the Metropole a warzone.”

“I reject that assumption. Numerous agitators have shown violence. These are less marches and more riots! Besides, how many of these people are being paid to be there? The public has a right to know where the money is coming from! My books, on the other hand, are wide open.”

The latter was not true at all, but a lie could travel around the world twice before the truth could even get its boots on. Blackwell would change the subject, trumpet the fine civilisation his business promoted, juxtaposing it with the morass of villainy that was the Metropole. Riley proved to be quite the attack dog, however, and Blackwell found himself growing frustrated. Hope had given this interview a sixty percent chance of success, but said success was slipping. Still, he needed to know something.

“And by the way,” he said off-handedly, “there’s no such thing as the Cover Papers. I don’t know where this rumour started that there’s some secret ledger paying off City Hall. I’ve never set foot there, not even once! The words ‘cover papers’ have never even been spoken.”

“That’s not true,” Riley countered. “I have here a quote from an anonymous source. I quote: ‘When you put my name in those damn Cover Papers of yours, just know that you’ll be in my papers too. You don’t own me, Blackwell doesn’t own me, this is just a favourable business deal which City Hall wishes to proceed upon.’”

An easily deflected quote; so vague as to mean nothing. But he still looked aside and smirked at Hope. She really did look lovely as a blonde, but yes, she needed that boob job. Perhaps a bit more silver in her outfit, too . . . 

“Mr Blackwell, would you like me to repeat the question?”

Harrison gathered his thoughts and continued the interview, but unbeknownst to this do-gooder reporter, Blackwell finally had him. Harrison had bugged City Hall under the guise of its electrical overhaul a year back. He made sure to read the transcripts of all his business dealings in their through intermediaries, and that quote had been between just two people. Just two. One who could be collared, and the intermediary who could be . . . dealt with.

“Thank you for the interview, Mr Blackwell,” Ralph said, shaking his hand in the aftermath. Harrison squeezed it tightly, then sneered now that the camera was off.

“Watch yourself, Mr Riley,” he said. “A family man like yourself should welcome the winning side, for everyone’s safety.”

To his surprise, Mr Riley just chuckled lightly. “I think I’m shielded well enough, thank you!” He left, and Harrison turned to the monitors, watching the footage of the man descending. “Hope,” he said. “Have Mr Auberschen dealt with, and then contact Councillor Leon for me and pull his leash tighter. I’ve found the source of our leak, and now we can plug it. And arrange a break-in at Mr Riley’s residence. It’ll scare him, and will do wonders to undermine his - wait. FREEZE THAT SCREEN!”

Hope actually jumped, then her implant froze the footage. Blackwell strode closer to the screen and looked at the footage of Ralph leaving the elevator. The damn reporter was holding something . . . a familiar sort of device.

“Rewind the footage, NOW!” he screamed.

Hope did so, and he ordered her to halt it at the right moment. Blackwell had been chatting at the start of the interview, putting on a charm offensive. Riley had suggested they move closer to his desk, to get a sense of his power for the interview. And then, there! He reached under the desk and grabbed something.

Blackwell’s blood ran cold. It froze. For the first time, a genuine sense of powerlessness ran through him. He detested such a feeling. 

“Hope,” he said through gritted teeth. “He - he and his damn wife - they planted a fucking listening device right here! Something that managed to get past the best security on the planet!”

The woman’s implant whirred, and then kept on whirring, as if making numerous calculations. Slowly, her eyes widened.

“S-sir,” she said, lips wobbling a little. “In the last two weeks alone, we have conducted at least four hundred and fifty three discussions concerning illegal acts.”

“The recording is illegal, yes?”

“It is, and can be challenged. But . . . if those recordings get out, your chances of success drop significantly to less than ten percent. And your chances of being incarcerated are one in three.”

Harrison Blackwell scowled. Meteor Woman. She was behind this somehow. She’d given him the idea. Brought Conway into it.

“She is Meteor Woman,” he spat, struggling to control his normally calm demeanour.

“Sir?”

“Kara Conway. She put the device here, and he picks it up. He interviews Meteor Woman favourably. It . . . it has to be. If they can fool my security, they can fool my scans.”

Hope’s implant buzzed. “Sir, this could be good, if true. That means-”

But Blackwell was already ahead of her. He waved his hands at the screen, and Meteor Woman was there, as was Kara Conway, and images of both of them with Ralph Riley. Beautiful and blonde and busty beyond belief, and pregnant. God, they were beautiful. She was beautiful. 

“I won’t defeat you,” he intoned. “I’m going to defeat you. I’m going to put you on my leash and make you call me master.”

He licked his lips, anticipating that very moment.

“Hope,” he said. “Tell me our little secret pet has given the troops new powers and identities?”

She nodded.

“Good. Send them out now. We’re going to take Ralph Riley into our own custody. And with him, we’ll control Meteor Woman too.”

To Be Continued . . .