Nancy strode with pride to the stage. Each of the cosplayers were given a full five minutes to perform a skit or monologue to give the audience a good look at each costume.
At first, it was unclear that her costume was unusual. The lights were momentarily dim during the transition, and skin-tight superhero suits are the norm. Those in the front rows were the first to catch on to the telltales: the unsupported weight of heavy breasts, the unmitigated jiggle of curvy flesh, the glistening of light on uncovered body hair.
Gradually, the lights came up and the cheers began for the bold superheroine. They were far more enthusiastic than Nancy had expected, and she smiled broadly, her gloved fists on her broad naked hips. She thrust out her chest, broad breasts capped with taught nipples.
Soaring on the wave of applause and cheer, Nancy opened her mouth to deliver her planned speech, warning the bad folks of Gotham to beware the new force of justice in town... and then she noticed. The dazzling bright lights had forestalled this moment , but not it was all too cear--Nancy had been strutting and posing on stage, virtually nude, for a good thirty seconds. A crimson flush came to her cheeks, quite visible even from the rear seats, and goosebumps pimpled her skin. Nancy stifled a scream and quickly placed her hands in Venus position, trying to cover with far too little far too much.
Escape was her first thought, and she turned to sprint back behind the curtains of the stage. The audience got a fine view of her broad, pale behind then and cheered anew. As she began to trot away, cape billowing, the crowd let out a cry of disappointment. Nancy pushed the curtains aside only to see that the door backstage was closed and stuck. She tugged, but it would not open. "Come back, Batgirl!" came a pleading voice. Encouraging noises accompanied the shout.
Why wouldn't the door open? Nancy pulled harder. Why was the show continuing? Perhaps the people running the show couldn't see what was wrong with their eyes full of spotlight. Nancy dimly heard a repeated chant beginning to form behind her. "Come back, Batgirl! Come back, Batgirl!" Each syllable was punctuated by the clapping of hands. In short order, it became almost deafening. Nancy gave up the attempt on the door as futile and considered her options.
She could wrap herself in her cape and wait. She could try to slink off the stage into the crowd, preserving her modesty as best she could. She could curl into a ball and cry.
But that wasn't Batgirl's style, was it?
As the crowd's cheer grew more earnest and lustful, she smiled. They wanted to see her. Curvy, mature her. She hesitated a moment. She hadn't shaved her body anywhere in... well, she didn't shave. Why bother? Her husband preferred her natural, and in any event, it only really showed under her arms. Nancy bit her lip. Well, the audience had already seen her, faults and all, and they'd liked what they'd seen. Mid-30s or no, plump or no, she *was* objectively still a pretty girl. Maybe it was time to let them get a good look at what a *real* woman looked like.
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