The Challenge of Apokolips

For five thousand years, Darkseid’s words echoed the same:

Darkseid: “If anyone wishes to take my place, speak. If not, remain silent for eternity.”

And always, silence followed.

Until today.

A clear, youthful voice broke the stillness.

Supergirl: “I can try.”

The court stirred. A girl? But when she stepped from the crowd, the whispers died instantly.

It was Supergirl—yet not as they remembered her. She had grown into something titanic. Her arms swung like coiled steel cables beneath golden skin, every bicep crowned with a mountainous peak. Her chest pushed proudly against the S stretched across her bustier, her bust straining the fabric with the swelling mass of muscle beneath. Her legs—thighs so thick they rubbed with each step—looked capable of grinding stone into dust. Veins pulsed like molten lightning under her skin, feeding power into every sculpted contour of her goddess-like body.

She stood with a soft, confident smile, brushing back a strand of blonde hair as if this were nothing.

Darkseid (snarling): “Who are you?”

Supergirl (grinning): “The one who’s going to beat you. I don’t lose. Not with this body… not with these arms.”

She raised an arm and flexed lazily. Her bicep rose like a mountain peak, pushing up so high it shadowed her face for a moment. The skin glistened, pulled so tight over muscle that it looked ready to burst with power. The crowd gasped, even before the match began.

They locked hands at the Table of Power, the stone cracking just from the pressure of their grip.

At first, Darkseid pressed down hard. His hand shook with cosmic might, and Supergirl’s wrist bent slowly. Her chest swelled as she resisted, pecs rising against her bustier, cleavage deepening as her torso tensed.

Darkseid (grinning): “No woman can defeat me.”

Supergirl (calm, eyes locked to his): “You sure about that?”

Her triceps flexed, exploding outward, splitting into ridges as if sculpted by divine hands. Fibers shifted like living serpents under her skin, rolling and knotting as she met his force. Her lats flared wide, pushing her cape outward, making her look larger than life.

Darkseid: “You’re shaking… only five centimeters until you kneel.”

Supergirl tilted her head. A bead of sweat slid over the line of her jaw, caught in the corner of her smile.

Supergirl (softly): “Shaking? Oh no. I was just playing.”

She inhaled—and her whole body transformed. Her bust pressed violently against the S, rising higher, stretching fabric to its limit. Her abs, already chiseled, hardened deeper, each block pressing out as her torso tightened. Her arm surged: her bicep ballooned, skin pulled thin over an erupting peak, the peak splitting higher and higher until it dwarfed even Darkseid’s forearm. Veins pulsed thick, flooding her muscle with even more raw force.

Supergirl (voice sharp, sweet): “But now… I’ll use more.”

The table groaned as her hand began to rise. Slowly, almost casually, she bent Darkseid’s arm back. He roared, pouring his full power into resisting, shoulders trembling, stone cracking beneath his massive boots. But with every ounce of force he added, she added two. Her biceps pulsed, swelling larger with every heartbeat, cleavage deepening as her chest compressed with power. Her deltoids rippled like boulders grinding together, shifting under her perfect skin as she forced his hand down.

Darkseid (furious, desperate): “Impossible! No woman—no Kryptonian—can outmatch me!”

Supergirl (laughing, her muscles swelling even further): “Then look again. Easy for a girl.”

Her biceps peaked one last time, bursting with volume, and SLAM—she smashed his hand into the shattered stone table. The shockwave cracked the floor, sending dust into the air.

Gasps and silence filled the throne hall.

Supergirl stood, rolling her shoulders, her body shimmering with glossy muscle. Her chest rose and fell proudly, her bust heaving as she flexed her arms once more for the crowd, peaks so high they nearly touched her jaw.

Supergirl (smiling down at Darkseid): “Train harder, Darki. Next time I don’t want it to be this easy. And remember—every world you enslaved is free now. I’ll make sure of it.”

She turned, her cape flowing, her hips rolling with goddess confidence. Looking back only once, she winked.

Supergirl: “See you next year. Don’t disappoint me. Xoxo.”

And for the first time in eternity, Apokolips trembled not from Darkseid’s fist—but from the power of a woman who dared to flex.