Nightwing giggled and felt her elephantine body tremble in desire. A pert of her was hoping that something could be done to change them back...but most of her dreamed of a future where she waddled and bounced around the Titans Tower like a jolly, laughing songbird. She'd be married to Cyborg (of course), and her belly would be buldging with new life. She'd serve Starfire, Raven and Wonder Girl as both handmaiden and hairdresser, laboring over them like a hen brooding over her chicks. Garfield would follow her from room to room, taking the forms of various house pets (puppies, kittens and parrots most often), because that's what he was. Garfield would be her companion...because he was just a pet. An animal. Barbara would have become her actual daughter by then. As time passed, they be absorbed into her new 'truth', and soon enough they'd stop imagining that anything was different.

 

    "Thanks, Kori. We'll be waitin' for you. An'...Thai you so much fo' believin' in me. I...I jus' love you so much."

 

   She turned then t Barbara Gordon and said with a smile "See, child? Ain't nothing' t'...worry 'bout."

 

   Two cars were pulling up. Gotham PD. Lights flashed and a voice said with a smile behind it "Had a complaint about some trespassers on the Quinn estate. Something about an abducted child and some fat, black whore. They said you were fat, but fuck honey...you're a goddamn whale."

 

   The cops were getting out of the cars with nightsticks, pepper spray and tasers drawn and indicating they should stay where they were. Nightwing wanted to run...but it was impossible. His/her body was designed to eat and fuck...but very little else. Barbara wanted to go with them...but she feared that the father she'd always known and loved wasn't then man she'd see when she entered his office. 

 

   Still...she had to give it a shot.

 

   "I-I-I-It's okay, g-g-guys. I k-k-k-know this is g-g-gonna seem weird, b-b-but if I can t-t-talk to my dad I can st-t-t-traighten all this out. You s-s-see...I'm Barbara Gordon."

 

   The officers paused, exchanged glances, and one asked "That supposed to mean something to us, little lady?"

 

   She frowned, then clarified "Commissioner Gordon's d-d-daughter."

 

   They chuckled, and came on more confidently. "Gordon's daughter's named Renee. Renee Bullock-Gordon. They saint got no other kids, far as I know."

 

   Barbara Gordon stumbled back and began to cry. Renee was Gordon's daughter? Memories danced through her head at the speed of grief, as she realised she'd lost her parents. Both her parents. A cop advanced on her with handcuffs at the ready, and Nightwing charged. As massive as she was though, she was far from fast. The cop sidestepped her, tripped her and sent her to the ground she started to get up, when two tasers sent her into unconsciousness. When she woke up...she was bouncing along the back roads that lead to Gotham.

 

   She...was naked. Her dress had been removed and her massive, chocolate-brown body was exposed. She could see it wobbling, shuddering and bouncing along with the road...because she was looking into a mirror. She was in the back of a 'paddy wagon' with mirrored surfaces on the inside. That was unusual. Her reflection hammered home her newfound womanliness, not to mention her change in ethnicity. She thought suddenly about how horny she was. She looked down, and though she could see nothing unusual aside for her billowing body...she could feel that she was squishing and squelching on a bench that was slick with her own juices. Her 'lady dew' was dripping from her swollen, engorged pussy lips, as it always did when she went too long without any attention.

 

   No. That wasn't right...was it?

 

   "You up, Fatso?" A voice chirped with good humor. "I wasn't sure. We been on the road for a while now, Fatso. You've been mewling and moaning along like a bitch in heat. Guess you'd like some company, huh?"

 

   (Cyborg)

 

   (Starfire)

 

   (Donna)

 

   (Batman...)

 

   She snarled "Where's Barbara? What have you done with her?" without even realising she was no longer 'Mammying-up' her speech like an extra on 'Gone With the Wind'.

 

   "She's fine, Fatso. I guess. She's in the system now. No parents. No home. They're putting her into foster care, I think. She should be with her new parents soon. Really serious religious fundamentalists, I think. Soon, she'll be the most devout member of the family, leading them in daily bible studies and prayer circles, speaking in tongues and handling snakes like a pro."

 

   She was shocked and disgusted. "She wouldn't be that sort of person. She couldn't be. She's a computer expert, for goodness sake!"

 

   "Not possible, Fatso. Her foster parents won't own a computer. No television or radio, either. Such things are 'of the devil', as they say. They'll 'home school' her, of course. Teach her her place is beside a church-going man. Put her in dowdy, 'Little House on the Prairie' dresses and bonnets. Cooking, cleaning, needlepoint and the scriptures. That'll be her life from now on. Renee doesn't want this 'sham' sister of hers disturbing her parents."

 

   "No..." she moaned in horror.

 

   "Sorry, Fatso. That's just how it is."

 

   "Don't call me that!" She snapped.

 

   "What?" The faceless voice asked, innocently.

 

   "Fatso! Don't call me that!"

 

   "You like being called 'Fatso'. It's a perfect name for you. So descriptive and appropriate. The perfect name for a gluttonous, gorging blimp like you. Fatso. Fatso. Fatso. See? It's perfect."

 

   She knew something had changed, but at least he'd gotten her name right. Fatso. Such a perfect name, she'd long since had it changed legally. Without a cumbersome and awkward last name to clutter up her sense of self, she had long since fully embraced her 'Fatso' identity. 

 

   "Well...thank you for getting my name right, at least. I'm not sure who you are, but I do appreciate that."

 

   "You're welcome, Fatso. Always glad to help a friend out."

 

   Friend? This guy...was her friend! How could she forget? 

 

   She smiled, glad to know she was with someone who she could call a friend, even if she'd never seen them. The voice seemed a little...asexual, in a way. Male? Female? Why look a gift horse in the mouth?

 

   "Thanks, pal. It's been such a shitty day...it's good to know I've got someone in my corner. What's your name?"

 

   "It's not important. Don't even worry about it."

 

   The question wasn't important. She didn't worry about it. Feeling happy and relieved, and utterly unconcerned with the question of where she was going (her friend had that in hand after all) she just leaned back and enjoyed the ride. Fatso didn't have a care in the world. Her 'friend' had things well in hand, and she could relax. Lulled by the bouncing road, she closed her eyes...and fell asleep...