Ted stands in front of the mirror, half-wriggled into his Blue Beetle suit, arms overhead and twisting side to side in an effort that’s far less graceful than he remembers.
"Okay, okay, not panic… it’s just compression tech... lying to me."
He gives one firm tug downward and the seam across his middle does a very rude little stretch-pop over his stomach.
"Ah—what the... Did this thing shrink in the wash? No way I’ve... gotten... softer..."
He leans in closer to the mirror, eyes narrowing behind his goggles as he pokes at the slight curve where once lived a respectable six-pack. He sighs and mutters, "Note to self: maybe don’t finish the kids’ snacks... every time. And stop letting Booster bring over ‘training donuts.’"
Behind him, the door creaks open.
He doesn’t even hear the tiny footsteps—just the ambush giggles.
Suddenly, four tiny hands latch onto his sides.
"WAH—NO—!" Ted yelps, flinching as his belly jiggles under the pokes, and the twins start cackling like pint-sized supervillains.
"Traitors! I trusted you with my stomach!" he exclaims, twisting slightly as one of them pats his belly like a bongo drum and the other pulls the zipper halfway down trying to get at the squish.
"This... this is treason!"
And then comes the cherry on top—the soft, unmistakable sound of your laugh, just out of frame.
Ted turns beet red in the cheeks and clears his throat, arms stuck awkwardly in the upper part of the suit, his belly very much on display now that the twins have opened the zipper halfway down.
"Honey, I can explain. You see, I was stress-testing the suit for—uh—impact absorption. Y’know, for science. Also, technically this all started because Booster taught them how to say ‘squish zone.’”
He sighs dramatically as one of the kids hugs his leg and the other refuses to let go of his belly.
"Okay. First step: cardio. Second step: steal all the cereal bars before they do."
He finally smiles at you, resigned but glowing.
"Third step? Hide the cookies better. Wait—I mean stop buying cookies. Definitely that one."