Patreon Reward: Harley's FatBat Regimen

Here's a reward story featuring Harley Quinn and Batgirl from Batman: The Animated Series! Barbara gets an IQ-sapping feedee treatment from Harley!

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Harley Quinn loomed over Batgirl, a cheshire grin on her painted face. “All right, wakey-wakey, Batty! Welcome to the lap of luxury!” 

Barbara Gordon came to, finding her leg manacled to a large sofa. “Where am I?” she asked, glancing around at the warehouse she’d found herself in with her sharp, analytical gaze. “Some kind of food processing plant?” She glanced in confusion at the fluffy couch and the large television set sat in front of her.

“Somethin’ like that, yeah!” Harley answered in her sing-songy Brooklyn accent. 

“Harley!” Batgirl growled. “You know this isn’t going to work; better let me go now and save yourself some pain!”

Harley put a hand on her curvy hip.  “Oh, I’ll let ‘cha go, but first, you’re gonna learn to relax and let go a little yourself!” Harley produced a television remote and turned on the screen. Close-up footage of food interspersed with almost subliminally fast-appearing words like HUNGRY and LAZY began to flash across the screen, accompanied by a droning, hypnotic soundtrack. 

“What’s this supposed to be?” Barbara asked, her eyes flicking between the screen and her captor. 

“Well, I’ve got a diet plan ready for ya, and your new all-you-can-eat buffet is chock-full of...well, let’s call ‘em special vitamins! You can trust me, I’m a doctor, remember? When you’re through with my routine, you won’t even wanna be Batgirl no more!” Harley grabbed a long hose. “How about a few gallons of chocolate malt to get you started, doll?” 

Harley shoved the tube into Batgirl’s mouth and turned a small valve on its side. Sugary, milky chocolate malt washed down her throat as her eyes went wide. Barbara’s hands rose to pull it out, but hesitated. 

“Best you ever tasted, right?” Harley chuckled. “I forgot to add that all this stuff is super addictin’, sorry!” 

Batgirl guzzled from the tube for several seconds, her throat pulsing as thousands of calories rushed into her stomach, distending her once flat belly into a taut dome against her grey batsuit. Finally, she reached up, turned the valve off, and pulled it out of her mouth with a sputter. “Ptew...bleh!” she coughed as she caught her breath. 

“Takin’ a break? You’ll get hungry again before long, I promise! I’m here to serve! Burgers, fries, pies, whatever your little heart desires!” 

“I’ll go on a hunger strike if I need to!” Barbara threatened, glaring at Harley before her gaze fell upon the warm glow of the T.V. set again. “I’ll...-Urrrrph-....” The ferocity in her expression faded. “I’ll play along...for now...” she decided, now staring at the appetizing fast foods flashing across the screen. “Only because I’m starving...” 

“Sure! When I’ve got my back turned bringing ya food, you can make your daring escape!” Harley cackled. “Lemme get ya’ somethin’ solid to eat.”

Momentarily alone, Barbara examined her leg manacle as she let another chocolatey belch slip out of her mouth. “Of course, she took my utility belt...” she muttered, her eyes darting back to the T.V. “I better wait to eat a little more...get my energy up...then I’ll think of an escape plan for sure...” she soothed herself, her shoulders slumping as she put the hose back into her mouth and turned it on, her eyes glued to the T.V. set. 

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A month later, Harley swayed over to the couch as she munched on a corn dog, her thicker, plumpened frame jiggling in her tight card-motif suit. A small belly bulged from her midsection, and her rump had grown extremely round and plush, giving a sprightly wiggle whenever she walked. “-BWOORPH!- Harley gurgled, tossing the stripped corn dog stick over her shoulder. “I gotta stop dippin’ into my own supply!” She gave her hip a slap and watched her thickened thigh quiver with a mirthful expression. “Good thing I’ve gotta real porker of a friend to make me look nice and svelte these days!” 

“Hey Harley...” Batgirl waved, her upper arm flab wobbling gelatinously in her tight suit. Lifting her arm revealed the enormous damp sweat stain at her armpit. “What’s cooking today?” she asked, her attention snapping back to the looping, subliminal fast food commercials she was being constantly screened. Batgirl reached behind her and gave her cushion-sized, sweaty buttock a generous scratch, sticking out her tongue in pleasure as her flabby fingers found their way into the damp, humid crease of her rump crack. 

“All your favorites, doll!” Harley promised, wheeling over a cart loaded with carnival food. 

Barbara licked her lips and wiggled her fingers. “Yummy!” She patted her blob of a double-belly, squeezing the fruits of her weeks of constant overindulgence with approval. Beneath her gut, a set of triple-wide, doughy, roll-creased thighs spread out to match the width of her over 700 pound body’s hips and rear. “I swear, the bigger my belly gets, the more I can eat!” she giggled proudly. She held out her hands towards the cart needily, wiggling her fingers.

“Love that one-track mind of yours, Fatgirl!” Harley complimented, wheeling the cart over to Batgirl. 

“When you let me go, I’m totally going on, like, a food tour around Gotham!” she said eagerly.

“Babe, I unlocked your manacle a week ago!”

“Oh yeah, I totally forgot!” she snorted happily, her backside rippling with a foul -PHRAAAAPTH!- of gas. Barbara looked down and shrugged. “Huh, I can’t even see my feet anymore, y’know...” She’d long ago kicked her boots off, leaving her bare, chunky feet and ankles dripping sweat and emitting a pungent locker-room odor. “Guess I’ll leave after I eat...”

“Sure doll, I haven’t heard that one before!” Harley tittered, watching the obese crime fighter cram funnel cakes into her drooling, double-chin framed mouth. Her already rounded and bulging cheeks engorged as she crammed a heap of the sugary treats into her maw at once. Harley sniffed the air and pinched her nose. “Maybe you should get up to take a shower for once!” 

“What’s the point?” Barbara scoffed while chewing, spraying saliva-soaked crumbs from her mouth onto the watermelon-sized doughbags that her breasts had become. Her swollen nipples were etched plainly against the skintight fabric of her batsuit. “I’ll just get all sweaty again as soon as I’m done, sheesh.”

“Can’t argue with that logic! Up for some Greek next?” 

Batgirl looked thoughtful for a moment. “Deep fry it all!” she urged. “And be quiet, I can’t hear the T.V. !”