Meteor Woman, Issue #5 (Man to Hot Superheroine TG) (Patreon)

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.

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Issue 5: Investigative Reporter

Meteor Woman continued to make appearances over the next week. While Burt wound down his ‘night job’, making only the occasional burglary job when necessary, he gave more free time for himself to act as Meteor Woman. He was well aware of the warning given by the Meteor, so his appearances were brief and only used to good effect. He never hung around, or stayed in his female body if he could help it. He had mastered the ability to focus his mind and change back, and even make the costume separate to himself rather than something innate, but he wasn’t going to be an idiot: he was meddling with something dangerous, and so he had to be careful. So far, it had meant that changing back to his true self didn’t require an increased effort. Yet.

His new superheroine alter-ego was making a massive splash in the news and wider media, and social media even more so. Burt made sure to become Meteor Woman whenever he saw a crime that needed stopping, or caught an immediate disaster on the news, or - in a few cases - even attended to some helpful duties that Blue Trident and Flame Dancer asked her to when they crossed her path. Simple stuff, of course, like escorting an armoured vehicle that had villainous weaponry in it. She got the sense that she was being tested by the more suspicious Flame Dancer, so she stayed on her best behaviour.

The public, of course, loved her. The men for one - well, two - very obvious reasons, but the heir of mystery around her and her origins, her stylish costume, and the fact that she was a little awkward in public all made her feel like something else. Meteor Woman was gradually getting better at projecting confidence, even in her body, and some of her jibes at others for staring at her chest or jokes about her ‘lack of symbol being its own impressive symbol’ had even gone viral. But most of all, she was beloved for the same reason that all heroes are: she saved people. And, importantly, she tried to focus her efforts on the downtrodden and often forgotten neighbourhoods, more than most heroes. She had always disliked that burroughs such as the Cornwall, or Metropole, or even the Narrows, were often overlooked by heroes. She supposed it wasn’t entirely their fault: street knowledge was hard to grasp if you didn’t come from there, and understanding of the kind of crimes and gangs that operated from their shadows would be hard to spot from above.

But not for her. Despite the often sexist and demonising language she was subjected to in her actions, she was rounding up criminals and saving innocent lives in the kind of places that had far less hope than they ought to. A big moment came when a little girl hugged her leg, looked up at her, and said, “I want to be like you when I grow up, Meteor Woman.” She chalked it up to her new female hormones that she choked up a little and had to wipe her eyes. It made all the crude come-ons and jokes about her chest size (of which there were ten different threads speculating about that on the forums) worth it.

His family had no suspicion, though when she was awake, Ma did notice that Burt looked more tired and haggard lately.

“Just late nights and too much work for too little money, Ma,” he said, and it wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Well, I hope you’re giving yourself time for a little fun in life,” Sally replied from her bed. “Goodness knows, now that I’m sick, I wish I’d set aside more time for pleasure in life.”

Burt just smiled to himself, and reassured his mother. He couldn’t exactly tell her of the pleasures of flying through the clouds, of giggling as he soaked his long blonde hair through thunderclouds, and felt the buzz of electricity against his form that would kill an ordinary man or woman. He couldn’t explain that he’d carved his initials on a gargoyle from half a mile away using nothing but his eyes, or that he went out into the forest to practise how strong he was by lifting massive boulders and hurling them into empty fields. And he certainly would never, ever tell his Ma that as much as having such a top-heavy and hourglass-perfect female form embarrassed him, it was damn pleasurable when he wanted it to be. Whatever masturbation was as a man paled against the pleasure of being able to fondle his big, sensitive tits and slip his fingers inside his wet entrance. He had wailed in a voice that was far too high for his own liking more than once, and the fact that he could fly meant that he had even done so above the clouds.

But that’s the only bit I really love. I mean, except for the superpowers. The flight. And the fact that people actually kind of like me now, even if half of them just want to shove their face in my tits.

And there was the biggest reason of all, his sister Alexis. She was all about Meteor Woman now, idolising her completely. And while he’d always had his sister’s love and respect, it felt like something else entirely to have her admiration.

***

It was the morning of the interview - something Burt was nervous about and feeling like an idiot of accepting - when he walked Alexis’ bedroom and noticed through the open door a big change. His teenage sister had already printed off posters of Meteor Woman from news reports and captured images and put them up on her wall. Some had even replaced - to his shock - Flame Dancer and Lightning Lass.

“I hope they all team up,” she said, her braces flashing as she grinned at him. “I know you hate superheroes, but they’re so cool.”

“Eh, she’s alright,” Burt said. “But coming from a male perspective-”

“Ugh, you are so gross! I bet she can’t stand getting those kind of comments.”

“Well, maybe she’s inviting them.”

Alexis smiled. “She had confidence. I wish I had that.”

It was then that he noticed she’d been crying: her cheeks were reddish, and she’d removed her glasses. He sat on her bed opposite her.

“Hey. Hey. What’s wrong, kiddo?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Look, if it’s because I don’t like superheroes . . .”

“It’s not that,” she said. “There’s just some assholes at school. They’ve been bullying me because of my braces and glasses and stuff. And some of the girls . . . you know.”

He didn’t, and she could see she didn’t.

“Mom knows all this stuff,” she said. “Ask her.”

Sally filled in the blanks. Alexis was being bullied for her looks. It made no sense to Burt, for whom his little sister was beautiful and amazing and precious. He’d done so much to raise her a loving big brother, especially in these recent years, that the idea of others not seeing her the way he did made him feel utterly incensed. Apparently, the fact that she was still thin as a rake and had no chest was a fun source of mockery for the popular girls, who picked on her because she was the excitable nerdy type who loved heroes. The fact that she couldn’t stop gushing about Meteor Woman only made her a greater target. Sally said that one girl had even said, “no wonder you idolise her, she’s got everything you lack: a beautiful face, two good eyes, an actual figure, and a real set of boobs.”

Burt swallowed his anger. He decided to do something about it when school returned. But for now, he had an appointment to get to.

***

Burt sighed as he looked up at the Daily Star building with its famous spinning globe monument up top. It was a bit wonkier after the fight, even a week on, but at least the roof had apparently been repaired: the miracles of having Mr Fix-It as a hero who could be hired out to city management.

I can’t believe I’m about to to do this, he thought. If he takes pictures I’ll have to watch my damn poses. I swear every shot of me as Meteor Woman has my damn melons straining to escape my suit. That one of me bending over - God!

He went into an alley that was deserted and focused his thoughts.

Make me Meteor Woman. The blonde hair. The silver leotard. The blue cape and gloves and shoes. The muscles and power. The . . . floatation devices. The works.

There was a flash, a brief sighting of Earth from far above, and that voice of the power, of the cape, in his mind.

‘You are doing well, servant of the Meteor. You are proving your worth as a mighty heroine, as I know you would. Show the world your power and goodness.’

The flash ended, and he looked down to see a chest that would block the sight of the toes of even the longest-footed man. Meteor Woman took a deep breath, and her chest rose and fell pneumatically.

“Well, at least Ralph will enjoy this,” she said to herself. Still, she flexed her muscles for a moment, and savoured the feeling of that power. Then, stopping just for a moment before a shop window to check that her hair looked okay - why am I even doing that? It’s just a dang interview! - she rose into the air.

Ralph Riley was standing on the roof of the Daily Star, away from the patched concrete where she’d busted through, near the roof tower. She descended slowly. He hadn’t seen her yet, and with her magnifying vision, she took a moment to take in his cute, somewhat nerdy face, and those kind eyes that were concentrating on whatever was in his notes. This is pathetic. I’m checking out a dude like a total female. Which . . . if the boobs fit. But still!

“Hey,” she said, and he almost jumped, before looking up at her with relief. She was thirty feet away or so, and hanging in the air.

“That’s quite a neat trick,” he replied coolly.

“Thanks,” she replied. “I hope I’m not late.”

He gestured with his watch. “Right on time. Did you want to start the interview straight away.”

“First, let me get some ground rules down.” She descended down to the roof and placed her hands on her hips. She wasn’t sure if it looked less sexual than crossing her arms under her boobs, but she did it anyway. “First, no talk of my secret identity. That’s off limits.”

“Don’t worry, that’s par for course.”

“And no talk about the whole, y’know, chestal region.”

She circled a finger pointedly around her massive cleavage, one eyebrow raised. She was amused to see him look for a moment before gulping. Then he raised his eyes up apologetically.

“I am a gentleman, you know,” he said.

“Huh. You’d be the first,” she said. Then she crossed her arms, unable to help herself from teasing him as she stepped closer.

“Well, uh, I was raised by good parents,” he said. But it was too late, his eyes fell again, and she just rolled her eyes.

“Look, it’s not my costume, alright? The costume chose me. I can’t help that I’m . . .”

“A very forward girl?”

“Sure, let’s call it that.”

“Must be a bit getting used to! The costume, I mean. With the hole.”

He circled his finger as she had, but this time he resisted staring. God, they’re like the sun. People know they shouldn’t look, but they can’t help themselves. And when they manage, it’s only by sheer force of will.

“You better not be recording now.”

He lifted out his little personal recorder and threw it to her. She caught it easily, and he gave her a kind, yet cheeky, grin. “You decide when it starts and ends, how about that.”

She relaxed a bit, and sat on a nearby block of concrete that was serving as a crude guard against the spot she’d wrecked a week ago. She breathed a sigh of relief, not caring that she was giving him a show of the swell of her breasts rising and falling.

“Thanks. Just nervous, that’s all. This whole last couple of weeks has been really weird for me.”

“If you’ll allow me to say, you don’t seem like any hero I’ve interviewed.”

“What gives it away? The fact that I kind of appear out of nowhere then vanish? Or is it that I clearly feel pretty odd about this whole fucking thing.”

He chuckled.

“What?”

Another chuckle. “Sorry, it’s just - most heroes with good PR don’t like to swear around reporters. Leads to bad press.”

“Eh, I can just drop you off a skyscraper if that happens.”

This time he laughed. “Okay, that’s a new one. And even worse for your press.”

“Lucky I’m not recording your interview, then.”

“Well, we can make a start, if you like? Get down to business.”

She nodded, still feeling a little anxious but a bit more relaxed. He has that kind of presence. Confident, easy-going, yet strangely sly. Not the kind of guy I’d get along with as Burt. She clicked the recorder.

“So,” he said, taking out his little notebook. “Your superhero moniker is Meteor Woman. Where does that come from?””

“Space, stupid,” she replied. His snorted, and she had to amend herself quickly - this was going to be printed, after all. “Shit, sorry. Damn, cut out all the swearing. That was just a dumb joke.”

“I figured.”

“Basically, I inherited the power of the Meteor. It’s like this vast cosmic entity thingy-”

“Thingy?”

“Don’t interrupt. Anyway, it’s this big fu - I mean, big whats-it that probably exists in another dimension. I was chosen to represent its power.”

“And how were you chosen?”

She grinned. “I was just too awesome, I guess. Nah, I can’t tell you that. Secrets and everything.”

“Something to do with Hyperion’s attack on that building?”

Another shrug. She turned to face him, leaning forward a little as she got more relaxed. She realised she was giving him a show of her cleavage, but what pose didn’t? So she stayed leaning forward, hoping it would trip him up a little more. Certainly, he stopped to swallow.

“Maybe,” she said. “But like I said, I can’t say. But the Meteor believed I was a worthy recipient of the power, so I guess I’m just trying, you know, to make do and stuff. Get the hang of it.”

“Have you been offered help from the other heroes?”

“I don’t know if I can share that, but yeah. They’ve been . . . surprisingly nice, actually.”

Ralph’s eyes narrowed. She remembered that she’d expressed quite the anti-superheroic sentiment when he’d run into her, and even called the affair ‘lame superhero bullshit.’ He puts things together quickly.

“Look, I admit, I wasn’t the biggest fan of superheroes.”

“You alluded to that once,” he said, though per their agreement, he didn’t mention that fateful first meeting. “Can you elaborate?”

“Oh, you know. When you grow up poor, and struggling, and you see the kind of crime and sickness and suffering that goes unaddressed, it’s easy to look at these titans in the sky and resent them.”

“And do you? Resent them, I mean.”

She swallowed, unsure how to proceed. She liked to fly under the radar, after all, but she was coming perilously close to ramming into the side of the whole frickin’ dish.

“I think I can grow to like them,” she answered honestly. “I haven’t met them much, but they’ve invited me to the Hero Dome, and I’d like to see it. I haven’t . . . perhaps I haven’t been entirely fair to them in my other life. Everyone has their own point of view, and stuff.”

“Let’s pivot to that, then. Do you plan on joining the Hero Society?”

“No solid plans. I don’t even know if I’ll stick around as a hero!”

At this, his eyes widened a little. “Well, if I may say personally, Star City would be lucky to have you, and it would be a great loss for you not to continue.”

It made her blush. Goddamn, is he playing me, or is he just that suave? Goddamn cute reporters with spit curls.

“Well, thanks. That’s - fuck, that’s the nicest thing I’ve heard in a while.”

“Any time,” he said. “What future plans do you have for Star City, then?”

“I guess just keep on heroing. See the Dome. Try to make a good impression. Get used to my powers.”

“So far we’ve seen superstrength, flight, laser vision, and possibly invulnerability? Any others? In last week’s hostage crisis involving yours truly, you moved very quick.”

“Yeah, I guess I have a kind of low-level superspeed, maybe? I don’t know. Also a breath that - hang on, I shouldn’t be giving all this away, should I?”

He shrugged. “We can follow another line of questioning. You’ve gained a lot of popularity already, in public and online. What do you think most people like about you? What is making so many gravitate towards you?”

She couldn’t help herself. The joke was right. Damn. There. She raised her hands and pointed at her breasts, the boob window exposing a great deal of their impressively round flesh pushed up into a mammoth curve of cleavage.

“Well, for one, these things are generating all the gravity. Like your gaze right now, Ralph Riley.”

He snapped himself out of it, and blushed a deep red. “Uh, is that your answer to the question?”

“No! Fuck, no way! Shit, that was a dumb joke.”

“It was pretty funny.”

“And true,” she admitted. “Look, how about this instead: I am well aware that part of my popularity comes from my looks and my costume, but I genuinely believe that people are happy to see some of the rougher neighbourhoods being looked after, and they always want more hope in their lives. I’ve met such wonderful people as Meteor Woman already, and looks are never everything. I think people have, I don’t know, had a positive erection to me because-”

She stopped, and her jaw fell at the same time as his.

“REACTION!” she squealed, enough that her sonic shriek made a small crack in a nearby pane of glass. “I meant reaction! A positive reaction because I’m trying to focus on the local stuff that many people miss. And because I’m new to it. People like new stuff. Or something. I meant reaction, Ralph.”

Ralph pointedly sat and crossed his leg. He was trying not to look at her, and clearly trying to cover something in his pants.

“I know.I’ll fix it,” he said.

“You better.”

“Okay, uh, let’s choose another topic, Meteor Woman. How about this: what part of superheroing do you enjoy the most?”

“Oh, that’s easy. I know I should say something noble and heroic like saving people but that’s fucking terrifying, dude. I mean, mann. Reporter Ralph.”

He smirked, trying to not laugh. She gave him a light punch on the arm that felt more . . . flirty than she intended.

“But,” he prompted.

“Flying,” she said, grinning. “It’s the best thing in the world. I can’t believe it.”

“And I can’t imagine it.”

“I can show you.”

“Well, I have seen it, I just mean-”

But she had already turned off the recorder and thrown it back to him. He caught it with solid reflexes - he had nice muscle, underneath that nerdy exterior.

“No, I mean I can show you. Come here. Don’t worry, I don’t have a Superbite. I don’t think.”

Cautiously, Ralph put his recorder in his pocket, and the same for his notebook. Then, he approached Meteor Woman, whose own heart was beating tremulously.

“Arms around my waist, Reporter Ralph,” she said. “And watch the hands. And the general, er, sightline.”

Given her height compared to his, he was in a good position to take in the world’s best view, and it wasn’t the city. But he managed to resist after just a split-second glance down.

“Got it. I’m a gentleman, remember?”

“Good, because we’re being real fucking formal about this.”’

“You truly are unique in terms of superheroes I’ve interviewed.”

“So you say. Now hold on tight.”

He did, and the feeling of his hands around her waist was good. She placed her feet underneath his, easily holding him as she raised slowly into the air. Ralph gasped, taking in the incredible sight of Star City as she took him up and up and up, circling slowly so he could see it all.

“You’re right,” he said, marvelling at it. “This is incredible. And terrifying. God.”

“How do you think I felt when I first flew?”

“But you enjoy it now. Damn, what a view.”

“How about you, Ralph?” she asked, suddenly interested. “What made you a reporter?”

He looked into her eyes, and it was a piercing gaze. She could get lost in that gaze.

“I - wow, we are really high up.”

“I can lower you, if you want.”

“No, just . . . don’t let me go.” He held her a little tighter. It was pretty nice. His chest was close to hers, though hers was higher up. Again, his view ostensibly flicked down to the city below, but he caught a glimpse and got flustered. “I - well, I grew up on a farm, way west. Iowa, actually.”

“Farm boy? No kidding!”

“I know, right? But I was drawn to the city. I wanted to make a difference. I’ve always felt that reporters were kind of their own hero, not that many others do. But they investigate the stories that people need to hear, find corruption where it’s hidden, speak truth to power. They bring a light to dark places.”

“Wow,” she said, smiling at him. “I guess I never thought of it that way, but you’re right. That is pretty heroic.”

“Well, it doesn’t always feel heroic.”

“But you like the Daily Star?”

He nodded, looking around again as he surveyed the city. They were holding steady about twenty stories above the building, and he looked afraid and fascinated and amazed all at once. “Love it. It’s a great workplace. One of the few non-tabloid publications left, really. The boss rides us hard, but that’s an editor-in-chief for you. We’re always looking for new recruits though: investigative journalism doesn’t pay like it should.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, I know a thing or two about not getting paid.”

“In your job as a superheroine, or . . ?”
“Let’s just say I’ve got a real good sympathy for the working class,” she said.

“You’ve been there.”

“I am there. Shit, I’m giving everything away. Has anyone told you that you’re really, really good at getting secrets out of people?”

He pulled back from her. She was a little disappointed. Feeling her chest squash up against someone . . . it was exhilarating. A good thing her costume wasn’ spandex, or he’d see her nipples protruding really hard at that moment. But he risk shifting back to see as much of her as he could.

“Maybe it’s just my natural charm,” he said.

“Oh, we are so going down, now. I could drop you right here.”

“Like you would.”

She feigned that action, and the poor man yelped and clung to her as tight as he could. She squealed lightly in response to something very unexpected, something he clearly didn’t expect to do either: in his rush to cling to her, he pressed his face right into her boob window, right into her cleavage. Her breasts pushed outwards a bit to accommodate him, and just as quickly as he had accidentally motorboated her he pulled back, red as a tomato.

“Meteor Woman! I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t mean! I - shit! I swear I didn’t -”

She began to take him down. They were both blushing, and she was trying to play it off. “It’s okay. It was . . . that was a stupid joke. It’s not your fault. Really. That was dumb. Ugh, I’m still getting used to all of this! It’s crazy.”

“I’ll say,” he said, stepping off her feet as they reached the roof again. “But at least if you decide to hunt me down I can run inside.”

“Ha! Like that’d stop me. I’ve got x-ray vision.”

“Really?”

She groaned, placing her head in her hands. “Ughhh, you’re so good at this. Or I’m so bad. Ugh!” She brushed her hair back. “Look, awkward circumstances aside, this was actually pretty nice. Thanks for, y’know, not being a real jerk and letting me not answer questions and stuff. And thanks even more for when we first met, and not telling anyone.”

He gave a soft smile as he checked his recorder, showing her it was still turned off.

“Of course. Ma and Pa raised me to not take advantage of good people.”

“Ha! I’m not a good person. Trust me. I’m the furthest fucking thing from a good person.”

He stepped closer, rubbed his glasses. “Trust me, Meteor Woman, you are. I don’t know your whole story, but I’m a good judge of character. And you’re a good person.”

She kissed him. It happened all at once. She didn’t mean to, but suddenly she was holding him for a moment, kissing him, her full lips on his. She pulled back instantly, and looked away.

“Shit. Fuck. That was stupid. That was a mistake.”

“I’m sorry, I - I kissed you back.”

“No, it was nice. I mean, it was nice. Look, I’ve got a lot to work out. I - God, I’ve got to go. Fuck!”

“Is there anything I can do?”

She looked at him again: that caring face, that somewhat disarming attitude, mixed with a quiet determination and confidence. She could’ve kissed his face again in that moment.

“No, sorry. I’m sorry for all of this. Look, I trust you with the interview. I guess I’ll see you around. I hope to, Ralph.”

“Me too, Meteor Woman,” he said.

“It’s Kara,” she said without thinking, reciting the name Sally had intended to give her if she’d been a girl. “And that is off the record.”

“I won’t say a word. Or publish it. Thanks for the interview Kara. And . . . thanks for the kiss. I thought it was ‘nice’ too.”

She blushed, grinned like a moron, and took off into the sky.

You just kissed a guy you fucking moron. And you liked it!

She got back into her apartment, secretly avoiding noticing. For the first time since the bath incident, she struggled to get back to her Burt Conway form. It was only after a couple of minutes that she managed it, when she’d finally forced that kiss out of her mind.

To Be Continued!