Diana has a suggestion

"Okay, so we're screwed." That was Karen's professional assessment as she and Supergirl stared at the monitor showing Zatanna's last known coordinates—some pocket dimension where the world's top mystics were conducting a "cosmic realignment retreat" or whatever bullshit excuse they came up with to abandon them just when they needed help most.

Raven drummed her fingers on the console. "A week before the portal stabilizes and they return. At minimum."

Karen gritted her teeth, shifting uncomfortably—her thighs pressed together, her cleavage practically heaving with every frustrated breath. Raven's mental block was holding, but barely. Supergirl could feel the itch crawling under her skin, whispering temptations to spread her legs, to wink at the nearest warm body, to just give in.

And then she walked in.

Wonder Boobs.

Diana strolled into the Hall like she owned it, hips swaying with exaggerated confidence. Her armor—if you could even call it that now—had transformed into something between a battle corset and a strip club's idea of "Amazonian warrior." Golden straps crisscrossed her massive chest, cupping and lifting her tits until they threatened to spill out completely. Her nipples were barely contained, stiff and proud against the thin fabric.

And yet... she looked focused. Almost normal.

"Sister," she greeted Raven with a warm smile, as if she wasn't standing there looking like the cover of Titan Tails Monthly.

Karen stiffened. "Diana. You're—" She motioned vaguely at Diana's chest.

"Magnificent?" Diana cupped herself with both hands, squeezing with an audible squish. "Yes, I know."

"I was going to say 'further gone than we thought,' but sure."

Diana rolled her eyes and, to Supergirl's horror, giggled. "Oh, Kara, Karen—you worry too much. Aphrodite is a goddess. Resisting is only making it worse."

"What the hell does that mean?" Supergirl snapped, trying not to stare at the way Diana's breasts swayed when she shifted her weight.

Diana sighed, like she was explaining the obvious. "The more you fight Her gifts, the more She tightens Her grip. Look at me—I embraced my new purpose. And now? I'm in control."

"You call this control?!" Karen gestured at Diana's barely contained body.

Diana smirked. "I pleasure men when I choose to. Not when my body demands it." She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "And I haven't—unlike, say, someone—started answering to 'Power Pussy' yet."

Karen's jaw twitched at the blatant hypocrisy of this. Supergirl swore she saw her thighs quiver.

Raven cleared her throat. "While this is all... deeply uncomfortable, Diana might be right. The more you resist, the worse the magic digs in."

Oh hell no.

"So you're saying we should just give in?!" Supergirl ran a hand through her hair—which damn it, had somehow gotten longer and silkier just in the last hour.

"I'm saying," Raven said, folding her arms, "that maybe indulging—just enough—would keep the magic from breaking you outright. Until Zatanna gets back."

A dangerous silence filled the room.

Because they all knew what that meant.

Karen and Supergirl would have to play along with Aphrodite's game. Play at being Power Pussy and Super Slut.

And Diana?

Well.

Diana looked like she was already winning.

"We fought Starro today."

That should’ve been the wildest part of the sentence, but no. The craziest thing was that Diana led the charge. Fully herself—strategic, commanding, brilliant in battle—but also with her tits practically spilling out of her armor every time she punched a Starro drone. Like this was just normal now.

And the worst part? It worked.

Men—hostages, villains, even a few League trainees—kept freezing mid-fight just to stare. Diana used it. Distracted a room full of mind-controlled cops just by arching her back and jiggling. Supergirl hated how effective it was.

But Karen and Supergirl? They couldn’t risk fighting like that. Not yet. Raven’s suppression spell was still holding, but every day, it got harder. Every hour, the whispers in their heads got louder—

"Bend over for him."

"Let them touch."

"Super Slut doesn’t say no."

Raven warned them. "The magic needs an outlet. If you don’t give it one, it’ll take one."

So they… compromised.

**Day 4**

Karen broke first.

"Fuck it," she snarled, storming into Supergirl’s room at the Hall. "We’re doing this."

She’d swapped her usual suit for a modified version—still white, still with the P (for Power, damn it), but lower-cut, the fabric hugging her hips like it was painted on. Her thighs—thicker now, softer—gleamed under the light.

"I’m Power Pussy for one night," she hissed, like she was convincing herself. "I play along. I flirt. Maybe—maybe—I let a guy grope me in a bar. Just enough to keep the curse from snapping me."

Supergirl gulped. "And then?"

"Then we stop. Before it goes too far."

Neither of them believed that.

But the next day, they went anyway.

**Day 5 – The Tavern Incident**

They picked a dive bar in Gotham. Low stakes. No Leaguers around to witness their slow corruption.

Karen flirted first. Leaning over the counter—her tits pressing against the bartender’s arm—laughing too loud at his jokes. Supergirl saw the moment he palmed her ass. Saw her shudder. Not just from disgust.

From relief.

Because the curse eased. Just a little.

"Your turn," Karen whispered when she came back, her cheeks flushed.

Supergirl almost chickened out.

But then—some guy in the back, all rough stubble and thick fingers, smirked at her. And she smirked back.

It was too easy. Sliding onto his lap. Grinding down just once. Letting his hands roam her waist, her hips, her—

"Slut," he muttered—half-teasing, half-hungry—and Rao, she melted.

Karen had to drag her away.

**Day 6 – The Adjustment**

Diana found them at breakfast, looking pleased.

"See?" She hefted her own chest, making them bounce obscenely. "A little indulgence keeps you you."

Supergirl hated that she was right.

The more they played at being their titles, the clearer their heads stayed. But—

"We’re losing the fight anyway," Karen muttered later, glaring at her reflection. Her costume had shrunk again overnight. Her nipples peeked through the fabric now.

Supergirl's did too.

"One more day," she whispered.

But they both knew—

Tomorrow, Zatanna might be back.

Or they might be gone.