Crisp, fried bacon, smokey sausage links, a whole fried chicken and a platter of rare steaks, with a pitcher of Kentucky Bourbon to wash it down with. A tray of fine cigarettes was laid out for her as well. It was a terrible breakfast - so deadly and unhealthy - but that's what 'Pammy' thrived on now. Everything she once hated she lived and breathed now, which included...

 

   Pammy came waddling down the stairs with her beloved Harley, looking plump and stacked as hell. Her once intelligent face was rounded and soft, with her eyes heavy lidded and sultry and her thick lips spread in an indulgent smile. Her breasts were huge, her waist thick yet shapely and her hips and thighs very wide. Her well-fed body was cuddled in a sexy red lingerie and a see-through gown. Her red hair was so thick, curly and teased out that she made one think of an 80's era tabloid photo of Dolly Parton.

 

   Dolly Parton. That was who she looked like. A green-skinned, redheaded Dolly Parton...who was at least 50+ lbs over her ideal weight. As she swept part Batsy and Jojo, both saw that she had several rather redneck-ish tattoos now - the most prominent being her Rebel flag 'tramp stamp' with 'Ride or Die fer ol' Dixie' lettered below. She ate all the meat that was set before her, guzzled the Bourbon, lit up a smoke and snatched a can of beer from the fridge, grunting "Gotta hit th' stores in town fer some new clothes. None o' yer' moms' shit wuz sized fer a REAL woman, Batsy. Still...good job on th' morning' eats. Maybe you two useless twats are gonna workout after all..."

 

   It was the closest thing to a complement either girl had received from Pammy.

 

   Squealing with happiness, Batsy and Jojo dropped to their knees and worshiped the ground at Pammy's feet. Harley laughed, and Pammy rolled here eyes...though secretly she was very pleased...

 

   +++++

 

   Oswalda Gobblecox (his legal name now) had the men eating out of his hands, and the ladies simply stunned that a man could look this good. His body had been smoothed, slimmed, stretched and toned by his own work, the work of his plastic surgeon, and a few alterations from the amazing and wonderful Harley Quinn. His height was a gift from the mistress - now towing well over 6 ft. tall in his sexy black heels. His long legs were sheathed in smooth purple hose, and his slit-up-the-side gown of sparkly black silk was strapless and backless. Long purple opera-length gloves, a black silk top hat, a decorative monocle and a long black cigarette holder gave him that touch of Penguinish class. His body was the sculpted, fake form of Jessica Rabbit. His face was Jessica Rabbits. His hair (though black instead of red) was Jessica Rabbits. The only clear trace of his old appearance came from his nose. Long, upturned and beakish, it was obviously the nose of the classic Penguin. 

 

   He sang in the voice of Jessica Rabbit, belting out smokey 'torch songs' with her traditional speech patterns coming out as he spoke to the crowd. "Wak..." he'd burble "...is this your time to Gotham? I see..." he'd pause, pose and preen "...and you came to the Iceberg Lounge just to see me, huh? Wak! That makes a guy feel wanted!"

 

   He was beautiful, and both men AND woman were entranced by his perfection. His unusual nose only making his appearance more exotic. With the burden of the club off his shoulders, Madame Gobblecox could finally do the thing he'd always wanted to do - fuck every waking moment of the day he wasn't on stage. All he'd ever wanted to do was fuck. Feeling his huge cock sliding into every passing butthole or cunthole he encountered was all he ever wanted. He cursed the time he'd spent as a useless criminal or even a club owner. His old friend Harley was so understanding. So very understanding...

 

   ++++

 

   Batgirl and Nightwing were stunned. They'd decided to team up after Renee Montoya had said she was going back to the police station, and what they'd seen...had terrified them. They'd seen the bonfire, and had recognized both Batman and the Joker...Harley and Ivy...Alfred Pennyworth seemed unperturbed by it all. Realizing they had to get help from someone, they turned and snuck through the woods that surrounded Wayne Manor, feeling a chill run through them as darkness set in. They got lost several times, and both knew it was unnatural. Wrong. They'd been in these woods a thousand time. This was NOT a natural event. It had to be whatever it was that was doing all this to their friends. Over and over again they were certain they'd found the way out, only to be frustrated once again. Pitch black and without any light source (their flashlights simply would not work) they feared that they would die in these woods. Panic finally setting in, they found they couldn't help themselves. They ran blindly through the trees, trying to stay together, but very little else...

 

   Harley smiled as she messed with them again, sending Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon around and around in circles as she mulled over what to do. Finally she chuckled and started tweaking Batman's former partners...

 

   Light! They could see light! Up ahead, visible under the street lamp that glowed like a beacon, were their bat cycles. With a laugh they both burst out into the light, releaved...at first.

 

   Batgirl was no longer wearing her usual costume. Instead it was a sparkly purple and neon yellow knockoff obviously intended for a child, what with her utility belt being stuffed with toys and candy...which made sense...as she couldn't be a day over 13. Her cheeks were freckled. Her teeth armored with braces. Her red hair was brushed, braided and sectioned off into two curly pigtails. Her body was gawky, skinny, unmuscled and utterly toneless. Standing in front of her cycle she realized she'd never be able to ride it in her current condition. She turned to Dick to say something about how she'd have ride with him...and her comment dried on her tongue.

 

   "Whut'chu lookin' at, honey chille?" He asked, before realising that he too wouldn't be riding his bike again either. Where Nightwing stood was a massive black woman - so unapologetically obese and gleefully overstuffed that it was a wonder she could move at all. Breasts like watermelons, hips like a sofa, an ass like a Mack truck and a massive belly that was so huge and round that she'd never be able to reach out and turn a doorknob without a lot of maneuvering. Nightwings' costume was gone, replaced with a blue dress trimmed with yellow lace that flaunted her thickly padded legs. Her feet were slipped into fuzzy yellow slippers. Her thick, fat fingers seemed naked without a wedding ring. Her face...looked nothing like Dick Grayson, instead consisting of a wide, jowly oval, huge lips, wide nose and piggishly contented eyes. Instead of a mask, she had a yellow kerchief with blue polkadots. Where Barbara had braces, Nightwings smile was defined by her perfectly clean teeth. Topping off this strange appearance was a dozen braids tied with yellow bows.

 

   Nightwing knew he couldn't even dream of hefting his (well, her) bulk onto either batcycle, so she turned to Barbara and asked if she had any ideas. Once again, it came out...odd. "DAT oil' devil Quinn done be play in' wit us, chills."

 

   Barbara started to cry, big childish tears of pure misery rolling down her smooth cheeks, and instinctively Nightwing waddled over to her and enfolded her in a warm, soft, chocolate-colored embrace. For a second he feels foolish, but only for a second. Then...it was the most natural thing in the world. A crying child just couldn't be allowed. She felt....horny as hell. She desperatly wanted a man to marry her,  fuck her and fill her with babies. She wanted to be a mother. She wanted a husband. She wanted...

 

   "How're we gonna get outta this mess, Nightwing? I want my mommy! I want t' go home!"

 

   Nightwing gathered him/herself up and took a deep breath. She had an idea.