Meteor Woman, Issue #1 (Man to Hot Superheroine TG) (Patreon)

Hello everyone, I hope you enjoy my newest ongoing story for the subscriber tier! I'm quite proud of this one as it's a passion project, and I think you'll enjoy the TG tension in the story.  Big thanks to AL for supporting the creation of this story!

By FoxFaceStories

Burt may live in a world of superheroes and supervillains, but he’s just a regular burglar trying to support his sickly mother and teenage sister with ill-gotten gains. But when he is hired to help break into a superhero vault facility, Burt accidentally triggers an artefact that gives him the power to turn into Meteor Woman, the superstrong and incredibly busty heroine. Now juggling two lives, Burt tries to stay under the radar even as his super person becomes an increasingly huge sensation.

Next Issue 

Meteor Woman

Issue 1: Origin Story

Burt leapt over the fence in a single bound. He was only able to do so because of the adjacent trash compactor he had pulled over, of course, but the thought amused him nonetheless. It was a dark night in Star City, and that suited him just fine, particularly on a job like this. He didn’t know anyone else on this job, and that frightened him a little, but if the take really was big, then they could be in and out in a jiffy, and not have to worry about the Hero Society showing up.

“Hurry up,” the group’s leader said. “We have this timed to the second. No delays!”

Burt nodded, ran to the wall of the facility in the spot they’d trained for, and opened a panel in the wall. Working carefully, he shut off the building’s electricity without allowing it to shunt to the backup generator, and his unnamed compatriot worked to tamper with the security system from the other side.

One last job, he thought to himself as he moved quickly to the next position to the auxiliary entrance. One last job, before the Blue Trident gets me. Or worse, Clockstopper. I could do with seeing Lightning Lass, though. At least she’s a looker.

He chuckled nervously to himself as he retrieved the crowbar from his coat and held it back in a readied swing aimed at the glass at the auxiliary entrance. Twenty minutes and counting.

SMASH!

***

Burt Conway was an ordinary man thirty years of age: dark brown hair, brown eyes, a nose that was a bit too big for his face, and perhaps a bit more flab on his gut than a doctor would be happy to recommend. He was a heavier-set man by nature: not fat - at least, not yet - but bigger. Unfortunately that size didn’t extend to height: he was only about 5’6, and so gave off the look of being compressed by some kind of metal compactor. The fact that his cheeks were often a bit red only added to that impression.

Not that many people got an impression: he was the kind of sad-sack looking man that faded into the background of every crowd shot, and always had. He’d been unlucky for a lot of his life: his ma Sally was a loving single mom who’d gotten sick when he was little, and ever since their upbringing had been one long battle with poverty. She’d done everything she could to raise him, but still he went to school with shitty torn clothing and cheap food, and had been mocked relentlessly by it. The experience had hardened him, especially since he’d had to take on work selling newspapers and serving terrible fast food while all the other kids were getting to go to the Hero Dome and meeting all their favourite costumed crusaders. While Blue Trident was summoning creatures of water to entertain their excursion, and Ice Shard was letting them dance in the snow, and Flame Dancer was giving a spectacularly fiery display, he was stuck working a dead end job under a horrible manager.

Since then, he had always shunned the heroes that protected the world. Perhaps things might have been better if one of them had actually tried to help people like him, but they only battled with the Apocalypse Order and Doom Society and all that. It was all the flashy stuff and violent crime. Poverty, sickness, medical bills . . . that was just for regular Joes like him.

Things nearly turned around. Sally’s health improved, and she began seeing someone for a brief time. But it all came crashing down when she got pregnant, and chose to keep the baby. The man left her, and she was left to fend for herself. It taxed her health even further, and while she managed to survive the birth - just barely - her sickness worsened, and by the time her little daughter, Burt’s sister Alexis - was six years old, Sally could barely get out of the apartment, and was often having to rest. At just the age of twenty one, Burt was forced to become the primary carer for his mother, and be responsible for the practical raising of his sister. Some days his mother was better, some days she was worse. She was always thankful, always apologetic, and it wounded him to see her that way: his mother had done so much to raise him despite her sickness, and he never blamed her one bit. Just as he didn’t blame his much younger sister for their increased troubles: she was a gift, and he swore to protect her. To protect them both. Which was more than superheroes ever did.

But Burt felt the horrible pressure of life weighing down upon him, especially when medical bills for Sally’s pills and medical equipment, and for Alexis’ education, came in. It was crushing, and made his squat appearance all the more metaphorical. He loved his mom, and his sister was the world to him.

Which was why he turned to crime.

It hadn’t been a difficult transition. Burt had never been an egghead, or one for book smarts, but he was pretty street smart, and turned out to be pretty good at circumnavigating security systems. He’d started out petty, but as his desperation for funds to help his Mom and care for the now-teenage Alexis grew, he took to becoming riskier and more challenging jobs. Despite his talent, he didn’t really want to be a thief, but as he saw it, society left him no choice. It meant Alexis could have a life, and his Mom could keep her life. He never told them, of course. To his annoyance, Alexis grew up to be a massive superhero fan, especially for the handsome Blue Trident and the stylish Flame Dancer. She wanted to be one when she was older, not that she was born with powers, or likely to get them. But it didn’t stop her from papering every square inch of her room with posters of crusaders from the Hero Society. He tried to bite his tongue, but she was well aware from his many muttered comments that he couldn’t stand heroes.

“They don’t do anything for us, so why do you even care for them?”

“Because they do save us, Burt. They can’t just make Mom’s sickness go away, but they keep the world safe and stuff. Besides, they look so cool. How great would it be to have powers?”

“The power to pay the bills is the only thing I care about, kiddo. Now don’t forget to do your homework.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun. You’re the boring kind of big brother.”

That was fine by him, so long as they never suspected. His career took off, but never so much that it got the attention of the Society. That was the crucial thing. He once saw Buzz Saw fighting Gator Aid outside the city centre during a job, and it simply meant he chose to up and leave before the job was done. A good thing too: the situation spiralled into a massive brawl between the heroes who arrived mere minutes later and the Underground Guild. His sister raved about it later, but his reaction was just one of frustration, as it always was. When people were singing praises about Clockstopper for ending Night Garden’s vine-filled reign of terror, he just rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath.

“If they’d all just get out of our way. The heroes don’t care about us. They’re just gods playing with us.”

Eventually, he must have come to the attention of someone important. He never wanted to really work with a team, but some jobs demanded it, and that meant he picked up contacts to help him. It also meant that word spread about the so-called ‘Silent Burglar’, enough so that he was contacted by an anonymous figure to organise what they called ‘the big score.’

Burt was hesitant, but the money was too good. It was a facility at the edge of the warehouse distinct near Sprang Station, and the payoff was supposedly in the tens and tens of thousands - for each of them. He didn’t know the others on the job, and they didn’t know each other. They wore masks, hiding their identities, and the thin, intelligent figure organising the heist did the same. His voice was like shattered glass, and he had a habit of humming to himself, likely classical music or something. But he’d provided all the details, and while he creeped Burt right out, he’d decided that this would be the big one before he went honest and got out. His part-time job as a security guard at the Kane Goods store would just have to do for now.

And so it was that their mysterious employer, who simply went by ‘the Collector’, set the date, the time, and the plan for the team to kick into motion. The money in the safe was all theirs for the taking.

All he wanted, supposedly, was some kind of priceless blue cape.

Great, Burt had thought to himself, another person obsessed with the crusaders. Hope Alexis doesn’t turn out like that.

He thought nothing more of it until the job went all wrong.

***

They entered the facility. The fellow who went by the codename ‘Blackjack’ removed the large stack of crates from the wall and typed in the passcode they’d been given on the pad hidden behind them. It was just an ordinary warehouse as far as they could see, maybe with just a little extra security. That was, until the password opened a secret elevator by the office near the back. Another code was required, but Burt was called upon to hack it: he wasn’t a computer guy, but he was a security guy, so he knew how to reset the system and simply use administrator access. A brute force approach, really. The elevator was now accessible.

“Here he comes,” someone whispered through their black mask. “The Collector.”

He wore the same clothing as them, but his thin figure and strangely confident, whimsical walk made him quite noticeable.

“My friends, we are right on schedule. Good work, sirs. We must move with alacrity, however, to secure what is rightfully mine, and what shall become so unrightfully yours, ahmm-hmm.” He chuckled to himself in that strange way. “Let us be moving together. Keep your wits about. The security down there may have contingencies I am unaware of.”

Burt swallowed, trying not to be nervous.

“What is this place?” a man who went by ‘Joker’ asked.

The figure turned his mask upon him. “It’s a treasure vault, and I’ve found my X.”

With that vague yet somewhat exciting pronouncement, they headed down. When the elevator opened, they were in a concrete bunker-like entrance. They moved quickly, Burt helping feed recycled images to the cameras and then working on cracking the door. There were biometric scans and all sorts of other things he didn’t really understand about them, but he knew wiring, and he knew electricity, and he knew how security worked on a fundamental level. What he couldn’t solve, he could direct Blackjack and Joker to solve.

“Nice work, King,” the Collector said. “You are acquitting yourselves marvellously. We are ahead of time. We have fifteen minutes. That should be more than enough time for you to get filthy stinking rich, and me to finally have what should never have been denied me.”

“Must be some cape,” Joker remarked.

“You have no idea, my good fellow. No idea. But perhaps you shall receive an inkling when that door opens, right about . . . now.”

The enormous vault door opened, and each of them fell silent. Beneath the warehouse was, funnily enough, another warehouse, but this one was larger and more impressive, with immense racks containing heavy crates and displays and tagged evidence and all sorts of colourful equipment. Burt was momentarily confused, until he noticed something on a nearby rack as they entered: it was a helmet with skeleton teeth painted on. Black and sleek. It had belonged to Devildare, a villain who had terrorised a town to the south several years ago with her dangerous daredevil stunts.

“Wait, stop,” he said. “You didn’t tell us what this was.”

Blackjack and Joker turned to him.

“What is it?” the former asked.

“Don’t you see? Look at all the villain equipment. The strange devices. I’m pretty sure that thing looks interdimensional. I recognise some of these from my si- from posters near where I live. This is a Hero Society vault for storing dangerous shit.”

“Quite right, King,” came the raspy, yet refined voice of the Collector. “You are more astute than our other friends.”

Burt began to back away. “You didn’t tell us this. This is way too far.”

“On the contrary, this is exactly why I didn’t tell you. We’re in too deep to stop now, my good fellows. There is enough equipment, weapons, technology, and antique items here to make you a fortune beyond paltry money. I can even fence it for you. Take what you will, and look for my cape. It is a navy blue, with a pattern of a falling meteor upon its shoulder clasp. Find it, and you will be further rewarded.”

Blackjack and Joker paused again, but only for a moment. Then they ran on, looking over this treasure trove for anything worth a little - or a lot - of money. Burt wanted to back out. He was truly tempted. And he could have, easily: the Collector was already sweeping down the aisles, scanning them with some device on his wrist, all in search of his cape. It gave Burt the shivers. This was actual Cape shit. He didn’t want to be involved with that world, not one bit.

But the allure of wealth was strong. And the idea of impressing Alexis, of being the cool older brother to make up for his frequent absences at night . . . that was enough to draw him forward.

Just a few items, maybe. If I play my cards right, I can keep Mom’s treatments going for another year, maybe even pay for her surgery, and even pay for Alexis to visit that dumb Hero Dome or whatever.

He moved down the aisles, eyes scanning the numerous items. He had to look for the cape, he knew. All of them were well aware that this Collector, as flamboyant as he was, could be fairly dangerous. He just gave that slightly maddened vibe that was best left alone. And that strange thing on his wrist . . .

He began grabbing the small items and putting them in a sack. Moneyshot’s lucky coin, Powergrabber’s glove, Torrent’s flask. There was a strange cube-like device that he took, and another he returned when it started buzzing in a low ebb. Other items were even odder, and more dangerous. There was no way he was opening the heavy lead case that contained Nuclear Man’s equipment for instance, but he did grab Acidira’s chemical belt. That could fetch a fine price. All the time as this was happening he routinely checked his watch, ensuring that they were sticking to the time. His radio buzzed, jolting him. He hadn’t even realised he’d been so on edge.

‘Any eyes on the cape? It should be listed as ‘Meteor’ or ‘M’ or some variation. You must find it. We cannot leave if we do not find it.’

‘None,’ someone else said. ‘But we got only four minutes before we’re out of time. Maybe we should-’

‘NO. WE FIND IT NOW OR WE STAY UNTIL WE DO, GOT IT!?’

Burt flinched again. It was the first time the Collector had freaked out like that. He didn’t want to see it again. He began to search purely for the cape, mainly to get the hell out of this place before he was discovered.

But that was when the alarms began to ring, and the room turned red, and all notion of them not being discovered went out the window.

‘They’ve arrived early. Find the cape. It’s your only hope now.’

Burt had no fucking intention of doing that. Screw you, Collector, he thought, I’m out of here. He hoisted his sack and ran as fast as his slightly-stubby legs would allow, straight for the entrance, until something blue in colour suddenly appeared right before him and he smacked against it, hard.

“Oh, f-fuck!” he grunted, “what the hell was - oh.”

Blue Trident, the olive-skinned, long-haired master of water, stood before him in all his masculine glory. His skin-tight suit was ocean blue and covered in scales, and he held in his hand a shining blue-silver trident that could summon creatures of the sea in watery form. One was already approaching: an octopus the size of a man that slid down the staircase that led out of there and up to the elevator.

“Oh, indeed,” he said. “You’ve made a very, very bad decision coming here, criminal scum! I wouldn’t worry about how many minutes you’ve got left in here, because the only time you’ll need to worry about is the time you’ll be doing in prison.”

Trident was infamous for his terrible, straight-faced puns, but he was the leader of the Hero Society’s local chapter, and a force to be reckoned with. Super-strength, ability to breathe underwater, and the power to control water as well.

Oh God, oh damn, oh shit, of fuck!

Burt scrambled backwards, and even faster when he saw that two other heroes had arrived: the gorgeous redhead Flame Dancer in her red and yellow costume, literally surfing along a generated flame, and Polymporph, his form currently altered so that he had an equine lower half like a centaur.

“Fan out,” Trident directed. “He’ll be here. I’ll make short work of this miscreant!”

They nodded, doing so, and it made Burt horrified to think that he might just be paraded to the police station by Trident and Flame Dancer, his daughter’s two favourite heroes. He got to his feet and ran away, only to trip as a surge of water hit him.

“Don’t move, thief!” Trident ordered. “I don’t want to hurt you, but if you’ll allow me to -”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence, because suddenly a burst of purple energy that inhabited by what looked like living black spots erupted from far away, tearing apart entire sections of several shelves.

“The fiend, he has his displacer! Take him down!”

Trident pushed Burt just in time to keep him from being crushed by a falling series of wooden crates. Shit shit shit shit!

He had to loop around, dodging and weaving as the fighting grew. Whatever was going on was quickly becoming a cape fight, and that was far beyond anything he wanted to be involved with. Another crash of timber and shelving and technology as a mix of flame and purple energy collided. One of Buzzsaw’s buzzsaws sprang to life, whirring and skidding around the room. Burt had to turn down another aisle, getting lost in the process. An Exterminator costume came to life as a purple beam hit it, and he just barely avoided its lumbering focus. The thing could split him in half.

“This is crazy, this is crazy!” he said. “I need to, shit!”

A wall came tumbling down. The heroes were shouting, and to his horror, he managed to catch a glimpse of the Collector, not that he was dressed as such anymore. He wore a form-fitting suit of interlocking gears and glowing technology. His mark had cruel slits that glowed that same alien green, and a horizontal mouthpiece that imitated the jaw of a skull. Floating weapons above his shoulders shot forth concussion bombs, and the purple beams erupted from his left hand.

Holy fuck, I took a job from freakin’ Hyperion.

This dude was bad. Real bad. The kind of bad that could take on multiple heroes at once: and why he could see that Ice Shard and Signet Lance had arrived. There was nothing to do but flee, but there was little place left to go.

Except up. Except on top of the shelves.

Burt was no great climber, but left with no other avenue he made his way up quickly, grabbing onto box after box. His hands still held the sack he’d taken, but it was fast becoming dead weight.

Can’t let it go. Difference b-between life and d-

A box came loose, erupting open. His eyes went wide, and he toppled back from what had to be a near two-story height. There was nothing but concrete below him. He reached out to hold onto anything to stop him from cracking his skull, only to grip a strong fabric. It came with him, flowed around him.

Enveloped him in a way that made no sense.

And then he stopped falling.

Then he was elsewhere entirely.

***

Burt gasped. He was floating somehow. He was in a void of darkness surrounded by lights and - holy shit I’m in space. This makes no sense!

He tried to turn, and indeed that only made things worse. He screamed when he saw what could only be planet Earth before him, its immensity taking up much of his vision, but still far enough away that he was free of its gravity.

“What the hell? How am I here? How am I breathing?”

‘The power of the Meteor has chosen you, Burt Conway.’

He looked around, but could find nobody. “Who was that? Come out! Take me back!”

‘Do not fear, Burt Conway. This is a vision. You have taken the cloak that was fashioned from the substance of the Meteor. It has been worn by several in its past, and each time it strengthens to imbue the next wearer with more power. And you have been chosen: you are compatible. You have a good heart, and a sense of justice, and-’

“Lady, if you even are a lady, I don’t know what the hell you’re even talking about! I’m a goddamn thief. Please just let me go!”

There was a pause. ‘You wish to let go? Are you sure you are ready. You know not all your capabilities, and you are the first male to hold the cloak. The change would be-’

“Let me down! Whatever I touched, I want no part in it. Get me back down there!”

‘Very well. May the might and power of the Meteor be yours to command, in the name of justice and righteousness. Its wisdom is always available here for you to return to. Fall, Burt Conway, and rise again as Meteor Woman!’

He froze. “Wait, wha-AAAGGGHHHH!!!!”

He began to fall. Fast. Burt flailed in the air, panicking as his body descended through the atmosphere at lightning speed down to earth. He screamed as he tumbled head over heels, the entirety of the Earth getting nearer and nearer until it devoured his vision.

But something else was happening too. Right before his eyes, his clothing was changing, becoming a brilliant silver suit that was tight against his form, much like that of a superhero outfit. Around his shoulders formed the blue cape, the one that he had accidentally grappled when he’d fallen from the shelf.

“What is this!? What’s happening to MEEE!!?”

His trousers evaporated, leaving his legs on display as the silver costume became a unitard that hugged against his upper thighs, just shy of showing off his ass cheeks. His body altered, becoming thinner in some places, thicker in others, and stretching out. His hair spiralled from his scalp, and as it flitted in the air he was horrified to see that it had become a platinum blonde colour that seemed to shimmer with a faint silvery quality.

This is crazy. This can’t be real. This is just cape nonsense, but I’M NOT A CAPE!

Except his body was increasingly looking like one. He tore down towards earth, accelerating even as he grew in height. His body righted itself so that he was falling feet first, his blue cape blooming out behind and above him. It gave him the perfect view of the bigger changes. And they were big changes.

His thick body became muscled and toned even as it smoothed over. His new silver superhero unitard bared his arms completely, and they now looked completely feminine, hairless and everything. His hands were slender too, and this was matched by his feet, which were encased along with his shins up to his knees in tight-fitting navy boots that matched his cape. His hands developed gloves of a similar design, but otherwise his thighs, arms and face were on display.

“Stop it! I reject this stupid blessing! Stop it!”

But instead his ass simply took on a wonderful peachy shape, inflated behind him to stretch his costume. His thighs swelled with muscle but also in a more feminine curve, while his hips widened to look positively attractive. His face bubbled and shifted while his shoulders shrunk a little. He could feel his jaw soften, and his nose reduce substantially, and his lips become fuller. It was a nightmare, and still the Earth was rushing ever closer towards him. His crotch tingled, leaving him to groan in a strange mix of discomfort and pleasure.

“No! Not my dick! Whatever you’re d-doing, don’t take my - NNGHH!!!”

It pulled inside him, allowing his unitard to sit right, not that it should ever have sat right. In mere moments, his genitalia had become female, leaving him gasping in horror and almost wanting to splat against the ground. He thought it would be the last of the changes, this terrible one.

He was wrong.

As the atmosphere thickened, as mountains and cities became visible, as he rushed through the clouds, still falling, his chest burst forth with a pressure he’d never before felt. His costume opened up, creating a cavernous, shield-shaped window that gave him a full view of a blossoming bustline that quickly became larger than any woman he'd ever met.

“Ohhh! Why does it f-feel so g-goood!?”

It was like he was not only growing a huge set of big round tits, but that a whole lot of power was being poured into him at the same time. His muscles flexed automatically, and an energy he couldn’t describe filled his core, eliminating any sense of tiredness. He felt like he could take on the world, and still his boobs grew until they stretched the confines of the costume, a massive curve of cleavage filling his view until he couldn’t see his feet. They were the best pair of breasts he’d ever seen before in his life, and they were on him. The power and energy explode within him, and it finally became too much.

“STOOOOP!!!” he screamed, his voice now that of a powerfully dominant woman.

And he did. He hung in the air overlooking a landscape over ten thousand feet below him, his gorgeous new body easily overpowering gravity itself, his blue cape rippling slowly behind him like it was alive.

Holy shit, he thought. I’ve got goddamn superpowers.

He blinked, and then he was gone again.

***

Burt opened his eyes. He was back in the warehouse, still falling. No, that wasn’t true. He wasn’t falling at all, but neither was he attached to anything. And his body still felt all wrong.

“Oh God, oh God, it was real!”

He looked down to see that same silvery costume, the same revealing ‘boob window,’ the same huge pair of tits that rode firm and proud on his chest. He was female, and he was floating, his hair moving slowly with the lack of gravity on his form. The battle between Hyperion and the Hero Society continued around the vault, but all he could focus on was his own voluptuous body and its strange powers.

What the hell do I do? I’ve turned into a freakin’ superheroine!

To Be Continued . . .