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Tales from Silicon City: Bake Sale

By Psion

A Silicon City Story

All Rights Reserved

Silicon City, high-tech metropolis of Central California. A city of gloom and despair brought about by poverty, crime, and corruption; but also one of hope and not just thanks to the masked defenders that make it their home, but also thanks to simple, everyday activities. As the long process of reconstruction slowly trudged on in Aphrodite City, clear across the country from the warm rays of the Golden State, its people were about to learn that sympathy knew no distance...

As the sun began to set on Silicon City, a certain group of the city's denizens was still hard at work. Tomorrow a number of local chefs, bakers, and other purveyors of culinary delights were to meet together for a charity cookout and bake sale. The proceeds would go towards the citizens of Aphrodite City that lost their homes in the sudden explosion of supervillain activity that consumed their city. Those that remained in the city at any rate, many had already left and resettled in Silicon City or elsewhere to try and put the nightmare behind them.

It was one of those that had moved to Silicon City that Cassie Witherspoon was currently talking to. The blue-eyed kangaroo baker leaned against the table as she watched her guest work, long brown hair tied back in a bun as the bottom-heavy marsupial let the mink tinker with a few particular stubborn machines in her basement kitchen, the secret base of the Dough Girls. The unmasked vigilante was skeptical about letting the white-furred mink putter around in her kitchen but Mentalrix recommended Rachel Arsenel highly. And given the psychic rabbit's general anti-social inclinations, that said something.

Rachel Arsenel, not a lot was known about her in the local vigilante community other then that she came from Aphrodite City and lived through the crisis that consumed it recently. Liked vigilantes, made no effort to hide her contempt for the DSA, and the only thing that seemed to be more insatiable then her desire to tinker and make gadgets was her appetite for the kangaroo's pastries... and cheap booze if the occasional smell on the mustelid's breath was any indication. There was something perhaps a bit worrisome with how quickly the black-haired mechanic physically softened and started to fill her clothes past their intended capacity. What was once a fairly slim female with a round bubble butt had, since she arrived a short time ago, turned into a quite plump gadget maker with some serious "thunder" beneath the waist. A development that left Cassie feeling mixed. On one hand Witherspoon always liked to see someone fatten up into a "proper" full-figured female, on the other it was a little unsettling the attitude Rachel had about it. The tech supplier just simply didn't seem to care... about anything really. Even mentioning the charity seemed to elicit nothing more then an emotionless "bleh" from the other female.

"So this is the industrial mixer for the bread bomb dough Creampuff?" Arsenel asked as she continued working on the powered down machine, denim-clad butt wiggling slightly as her upper half disappeared in the space between the mixing machine and the back wall.

"Yes, as well as cake batter for a new pneumatic food gun Honeybun is working on. We also use it for normal pastries too when we know we're going to be hit with a big demand like tomorrow." The self-styled Queen of Confectionaries replied politely.

"Mmmm, speaking of honey buns, do you got any you were planning on throwing out?" The mink asked greedily from behind the mixer.

"A few, would you like some? They may be a bit dry though."

"Oh that just means they'll soak up beer better." Rachel replied dismissively as she finished fixing the machine.

Witherspoon did her best to smile. Some other time she was going to have to try to get a hold of Mentalrix and ask her how to approach Rachel about whatever was prompting her to subsist almost entirely on cheap beer and baked goods. Until then, well the big-bottomed kangaroo was hardly one to turn down someone that wanted to gorge themselves into getting a broad, multi-chair posterior. Making sure the mechanic was paid for her trouble and sending her off with a large box full of sticky buns, Cassie then turned the task of getting ready for tomorrow's bake sale....

As the day of the event arrived, chefs hurried to put the finishing touches on their creations before packing dishes up in hot and cold boxes before transporting everything to Exhibit Hall A in the Lewis Biggs Convention Center. Located downtown in the city's commercial district, the LBCC was a sprawling complex taking up almost an entire city block. Host to events large and small, from the annual West Coast gathering of HumanCon West that took up the entire complex to smaller gatherings like the charity event that barely filled up an entire exhibit hall.

As the chefs finished setting up and the sale just began, a pair of particularly enormous canine females slowly lumbered onto the cool concrete floor of the exhibit hall. A six-hundred-pound pear-shaped Afghan hound waddled in ahead of an even larger barrel-shaped Doberman with a huge belly. Sonya Winters and Deborah Autumns smiled as their zeppelin-like figures wobbled through the rows of stalls, buying a few things that looked particularly tasty, before sitting down at one of several cafeteria tables set up in the corner. Canine noses were tickled by dozens of wonderful scents as the two overstuffed spectators talked amongst themselves. Since their initial adventures in Silicon City, the two let their victories digest and focused on establishing themselves in the new city. Sonya was still working the club circuit as a musician about to try and self-publish her first CD, there was some local interest in the original music she was writing, a collection of power metal songs about a party of reluctant fantasy heroines imbued with immense power and forced to fight for the amusement of a pair of twisted demons. Deborah meanwhile had managed to get a job working as a bouncer for one of the city's many clubs, she quickly found herself enjoying the fact she was getting paid to beat people up. Slowly they were moving on but neither of them was truly "alright" anymore. In private, there was a back and forth discussion whether or not they should continue to embrace the beastly appetites that they slew their arch-enemies with and when they were certain they were both alone, they referred to each other with pet names that celebrated the old foes now reduced to so much adipose tissue...

Meanwhile, the chefs continued to serve the growing crowd as the selection remained a "who's who" of culinary talent in Silicon City. After only three hours of shaking hands, exchanging names, and serving food, Moira Ahebban felt like her face was slowly getting stuck in a perpetual smile. Still, turned out to be a bigger gathering then the British ex-pat expected. Even Fabio Vingerita, the famous Italian TV chef, stopped by as he was in town for one reason or another. Arabella Dekens, the Dutch dessert diva, was also present. Both were chatting up spectators while demonstrating the talent that made them famous. The wide-bottomed, brown-haired British vixen couldn't shake a peculiar sense of deja vu with both of them, like she somehow met both of them in person somewhere before.... Eh no matter, soon she'll be sold out and able to get her feet off the hard concrete floor.

Arabella smiled inwardly as she saw how quickly her gelatins and puddings were being snatched up. This was perhaps the most dessert the fat, gray-furred mouse dispensed outside of her villainous alter ego Pudding and people were gleefully eating it up. And it was so nice to see that some of the patrons were of the larger persuasion, locals that enjoyed their food... her private musing rudely interrupted by the noise pollution her saucer-like ears picked up. Off to the right was a pair of chattering females that Dekens immediately pegged as "Californian airheads." To the mouse's right, following the steady throng of participants wandering the rows of food stalls, a bobcat and a wolfess with a snow-white pelt walked along as they looked around with obvious contempt in their eyes.

"Uggh, why did Detective Warden have to send us here? Look at all these fatties trying to ruin our diets Stacy." The wolfess said to her feline cohort, gesturing to the rotund Arabella as she provided the most immediate example of the "average" chef participating in this charity.

"Dunno Stephanie, maybe he was just looking for an excuse to get us out of the office for a few hours, you know he has to be sweet on that damn fatty Bethany Watson. Do you think we're safe here though, what if one of those crazy fatfur villains tries come in and wreck the place?" The bobcat replied, causing the mouse to roll her eyes as she found herself dragged into the conversation.

"Excuse me, would you two happen to work for the city police?" Dekens asked, her voice carrying a pronounced accent as she stared intently at both females. Privately she was mentally picturing how they would both look after a few hours of her "treatments." The mouse was particularly intrigued by the possibilities she saw in Stacy the bobcat, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.

Taking the blank stare both of them were giving her as a "yes," she continued, choosing her words carefully as to not ruin the "game." "Well, then certainly you should know that most of those 'crazy fatfur villains' believe the whole world should be a wider place, that people are simply not fat enough, and this is a charity for people that don't even have access to staple foodstuffs like bread. The odds of most of those rogues coming here to 'wreck the place' as you put it is about the same as a member of the Light of David deciding it would be a good idea to throw a Molotov cocktail into an orphanage. The rest are gluttonous, not stupid, they know the response to something that shameless will be swift and merciless." The mouse explained, talking as if she was trying to explain something to a child, which mentally she was.

Besides, it's not like there isn't value in acting like a blasted normal person on occasion. She thought to herself, quickly scanning the crowd for a quick count of all the other villains presently out of costume and acting like regular people. Capacitor was sampling the stalls the best her wallet would allow, the thunder-thigh tabby cat electricity-manipulator buying up a collection of this and that to stuff in her mouth one treat after another. The zebra Marzipan was running another stall on the far end, doling out slices of cake almost as fast as Arabella was handing out paper cups of pudding and gelatin. Meanwhile the panther Huntmaster, a big-bellied gentlefur wanted in half a dozen countries for poaching and hunting rare and potentially endangered animals, was chatting with Cuisine King as the Italian fox worked his television chef personality to the hilt, both males charmed and regaled audience members with tales of traveling to faraway lands as either a celebrity chef or "travel writer." Just a bunch of normal people enjoying a charity social, nothing particularly unusual about any of them, yet the same could not be said for the costumed figure that suddenly came into the mouse's field of view...

Multiple heads turned in the wolf's direction as he entered the room. Not a surprise and frankly he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it at least a little bit. Clad in an eye-catching tight red and yellow spandex costume with the MacFree's company logo stenciled on each shoulder and a white "BB" lettered over his plump belly, he knew he was a sight even if he wasn't a skinny four hundred pounds of pure beef-fed lupine. Long black hair was tied back in a ponytail as a pair of pale blue eyes looked back at the crowd from behind a yellow domino mask; marketing always was a sucker for the classic look. Time to wave, smile, and just be the big-assed corporate super Burger Buns, the rear-end billboard of MacFree's fast food franchise, he mused with a grin. At least for the moment he didn't have to go off the script to feel like a real hero...

Sitting down behind an empty table, the masked wolf seemed oblivious to the creaks of protest from the metal folding chair that was suddenly holding more lupine butt then the manufacturer that intended. Pulling out a pen, he finished getting ready for autograph signing. He hardly considered himself anywhere nearly as popular as someone like Rivetgal but he had his fan club and no sooner had he sat down then they started arriving in force, lining up in front of his table and milling about the fundraiser...

At the end of the day, after the last vendor had sold out and the money was being counted, a small crowd gathered around a low stage set up in the center of the exhibit hall. Onlookers watched with baited breath as the charity workers counted the money as fast as they could. Next to them, Dr. Alexander Townes waited nervously, the faintest bead of sweat beginning to form on his brow. Looking up at the crowd, the muscular tiger saw three figures he thought he recognized. Flashing them a quick smile, the CEO of Ambrosia Biotech then turned back to the money counters as one gently nudged his arm. When the amount was whispered into his ear, the well-dressed orange-and-black feline looked back at the skunk that had lead the counting. "Are you sure?" He asked, briefly forgetting he had a microphone in his hand and the audience could hear him.

Nodding affirmatively, the skunk beckoned for their guest from Aphrodite City to address the crowd. Deborah, Rachel, and Sonya watched his expression change from the back of the audience. In the few times the four of them had crossed paths during and since the crisis in Aphrodite City, this was the first time the three females ever saw the stalwart tiger come close to crying in public.

"Well... I almost don't know what to say. I mean when I first heard about this event, I thought 'well it will be a small social so I'll go, make some feel-good speech, and probably come back with five thousand dollars for the local shelters...' I don't think any of us in Aphrodite City expected me to return with over thirty thousand dollars for the city's homeless. But between the sales, the collection tins, the call-ins, and so on, you took my low expectations and laughed manically as you shattered them." The male trembled ecstatically. "Thirty thousand dollars... sixty if MacFree's is still planning on matching the funds raised." He added, gesturing to the brightly colored wolf near the middle of the crowd. The corporate super merely nodded with a broad grin on his face.

"Well then..." Townes continued, clearly beginning to shake. "I don't think I can even begin to express how much this will mean to a lot of people. So if you'll excuse me, I really need to go sit down right now."

The crowd soon dispersed shortly after the tiger's abrupt exit, attendees heading home while participants packed up their equipment. Burger Buns lingered behind, collecting business cards from every chef participating in the event and occasionally casting a glance towards three particular beauties that seemed to be following off after the tiger from Aphrodite City. Maybe he should go see if they were still hanging around the convention center, he would have loved to get the Doberman or the Afghan hound's phone numbers in particular...

Townes had collapsed on the first bench he could find on the second floor of the convention center, giving him a relaxing view of downtown Silicon City as he fought to compose himself. He knew what the problem was; he knew exactly what the problem was. It wasn't his barely concealed abilities or some side effect of the super soldier serum he took in the twilight of the Aphrodite City crisis suddenly rising up to reign its ugly head. It was a nagging little doubt that had been bothering him ever since his plane touched down in Silicon City. Did anyone even care what happened in Aphrodite City? That question was finally answered, yes. Yes they cared quite a bit if the messages on his phone he was getting from Mayor O'Connor and Tiffany were also any indication, the mayor and his daughter had also come to the city, the mayor was still at a charity concert while Tiffany had spent all day at arguably one of the most stupidly successful bikini carwashes Townes had ever heard about. The Thunder Vixens, the female members of the All-Stars, and a handful of random female volunteers had managed to make almost as much money as the damn bake sale.

Faced with so much good news, the tiger buried his face in his hands and allowed himself a chance to cry alone for arguably the first time in a long time. Yet he wasn't alone for long. Three old friends in suffering soon found him. Looking up, Alex was briefly taken aback by how much all three of them had "grown" since Aphrodite City but there was no mistaking those faces, species, or the thousand yard stare in each of their eyes. Sturdy feline muscle was squished against soft, padded flesh as the four pulled together in a tight hug. People cared... they really did...

BB was silent as he watched Townes embrace the three females; tears streaking down all of their faces. He didn't need to really guess how they must know all one another or what they were crying about. He really shouldn't intrude but... Nah, there would be other times to introduce himself to the ravishing heroines of Aphrodite City....