Laugh Riot(Harley Quinn Tg)

The warehouse was abandoned yet the signs were everywhere, Bruce’s cowled magnifiers zooming in for any kind of lead on Harley’s whereabouts. There had been rumblings through the usual networks, but they sounded scared, half of his informants leaving town. Rats were always the first to scurry off, but what had them running so fast, so far? Joker was quiet, likely pulling the strings somewhere, but this wasn’t his usual MO. He wouldn’t be able to resist leaving behind billboards of clues. Too many people were going missing now. Vagrants, runaways, other villains. And Harley was popping up everywhere. He swore it was like she was multiplying, with how many pots she seemed to have her hands in. She’d disappear around one corner and appear crosstown on his system the next. It was all very frustrating, especially knowing that Harley was probably more interested in fun than any kind of carefully crafted plot.

The warehouse had been where he had seen her cropping up the most, multiple hidden passages likely leading to it as his cameras kept picking up Harley entering and leaving multiple times at once, and not always in that order. Once he had read no signs of life in the building, Bruce expected a funhouse type of situation, Joker’s design ethos of dadaist entrances and exits to nowhere and everywhere his main mental image, but it was shockingly standard past large streaks of graffiti adorning every nook and cranny. There were vats of bubbling liquid, spiraling into a messy congruence of pink, white and black. Every now and then a buzzer would sound and a few more tabs of something would pop out into a poorly placed basket, half of the product spilt on the floor. The whole operation looked held together by little more than gum and duct tape, the pipes corroded and large sections of the floor where drips of whatever they were cooking up spilled from leaks in the pipes.

It was a mess for sure, but hardly a challenge to dodge compared to actual trained enemies. He picked one of the products out from a barrel. Each one was a bit different, the levels of black, pink and white apparently just for design as they chaotically clashed against each other, but the result seemed pretty obvious to him even without a proper analysis. It was a drug of some sort, likely ecstasy, even more likely one with nasty side effects to whoever took it, a good time for Harley not a guarantee for anyone else. Slipping the pill into a tight baggie for future use, he procured a vial from his belt and held it at an angle to safely catch the liquid bits dripping down. As he was doing this the machine continued to wheeze as it churned out the drugs, or at least it tried to until one of the freshly minted pieces spent too long near an overheating piece of the machinery, turning more gummy than solid as it stuck to the release hatch, catching more finished product as a gummy block grew within the overtaxed system.

The sound of building pressure was masked by the other rumbles and clunks as the other machines coughed out their product, the only true sign of something wrong coming as the liquid droplets began to erratically sputter. With his reflexes, Bruce was able to easily side step the spray, stoppering the top and getting ready to head out, not wanting anything to do with Harley until he knew exactly what he was up against. Unfortunately for him, even with his absurd reflexes, there was no way to dodge as the side piping burst outwards, gas and liquid spray shooting out, draping Batman in a thick pink fog. He quickly hit the button for his suit’s gas mask to form, but it was too late, his surprised shock mixed already with the gas, a drop of the spray landing right on his tongue. What he had expected to burn instead tantalized, a harsh, dizzying sweetness bombarding his senses as he gasped, that sugar rush tingling his taste buds as his mouth grew numb, only the flavor left to feel as he began coughing, something tickling the back of his throat fiercely.

Tickling wasn’t quite the right word, far too gentle. No this was more like a rough fingering in a sensitive spot, the ticklish feeling a side effect as something pressed against his Adam’s Apple, the lump seemingly rolling about before being squashed, his voice distorting as he started giggling. He couldn’t help it, something about the pressing hilarious as his cries turned hysterical, shrill, and heavily accented with East Coast inflections. Bruce couldn’t get the full picture of what was happening, his voice still half muffled from the double layers of bat mask and gas mask. The room was slowly starting to shift beneath his feet, vertigo imminent. His body felt hot, but not unpleasantly so. There was something horribly coercive about how good it felt, his mind swimming in a growing dizziness, the presumed ecstasy exciting his skin, making it shiver with pleased goosebumps as he stumbled about the room.

Something silky and threaded was tickling the back of his neck, billowing out, taking up more and more space as his head felt noticeably weighted down. The heat was growing, his skin feeling loose, bones liquid. Sweat was filling his suit and the way the droplets swam down his hot skin and dripped onto his cock, making him groan as his junk began to press up tightly against the confines of his batsuit. Eventually his training could delay the inevitable no more, his muscle jelly as he fell, giggling all the way down, feeling something snap when he hit the ground, which only made him laugh harder. His skin was like a mesh strainer, squeezing against his jellied insides, shocks of hot pleasure washing over him as muscle liquified and dribbled out his pores, his toned physique softening, a large enough pool of sweat soaking into the air tight crevices of the suit to start sloshing every time he jerked around. Right as he thought he was going to drown in it, he heard the rusted shrieking of a door opening, its frame warped from years of disuse and two identical voices giggling out excitedly.

“And so tha dumb bastahd said, ‘we don’t want ya here Haaaaarley. We don’t want trouble.’ “
“What’s the point of a pahty without some trouble?”
“That’s what I said! Well he seemed a loot more accepting after forcing sum Haych Ay Haych Ay down his dumb mug.”
“Yaaay! Anothah club for Harleys! Do anything fun with th’ ownah?”
“Pfft yer kiddin right? It is us after all. We dosed all tha alcohol and once the changes stated kickin in hoh booooyo everyone was tryin t’getta piece of- Ooh whatta we have here?!” Two Harleys looked at the struggling Batman, hearing the giggles and sloshes coming from inside his suit.
“Oooh pick me! Pick me!”
“We’re both me but sure, whatta ya think this is?”
“A rat! We’s got a rat in the factory!” She giggled, looking so pleased with herself while the other Harley rolled her eyes.
“This ain’t a rat you dummy, it’s clearly a bat!”
“Darn you’re right Harley… Looks like he took some Haha.”
“Who’da guess batsy wanted t’party? Can’t blame him, it does feel fuckin awesome. Here help him up, lets see what’s under this weirdo’s mask!”

Bruce tried to struggle, though struggling in this case was more ineffectively slapping against the confines of the batsuit, his body too horny and weak to resist. How could he let his identity get revealed like this?!
“N-Noooohohohohohohahahahahahaaaaa~!” That was the most resistance he offered, the Harleys giggling as they fiddled around with the mask, turning off the gas apparatus, letting his head swim in the pink vapors as they finally found the buttons they wanted, his suit hissing as it popped open.
“IIIIILLLLLLLLL~!” Both Harleys jumped back, the open suit draining out its sweat, the floor covered in his former physique, but once it swirled down the half clogged drains, there was nothing stopping them from walking back over and stripping Bruce of his cover, the mask tossed away like worthless trash.

“Aha! I knew it! Batman was… he was… uh, who are ya?” The twins scratched their noggins trying to figure out where they recognized the caped crusader, his face definitely familiar even if his hair wasn’t.
“Eh who cares, it’s not like we watch tha news reg-ya-larly. Won’t matter in a few hours either. Ooh Harley, lets strip em down and turn him nice n slow!” He wanted to ask what was happening, why he felt so weak. Bruce’s eyes looked down to get a better look, gasping and giggling as he saw his lost muscle, the diamond of a body he had built up for decades now soft and slim, lanky almost. Something blonde was covering up part of his view, the growing strands evident that it was hair. And then he was dragged out, his slimmed down body easily pulling out of the overly large suit, the Harleys plopping him down in a stolen salon chair, ready to have some fun with their rival.

They had him set up in front of a large mirror, his body fully visible as muscle continued to sweat out, his body not quite emaciated, no instead there was a growing congruity to the forming softness, his sides puckering slightly before his eyes, his bare cock prickling at the base as individual hairs turned blonde before plucking, the tender skin buzzing with an addictive cocktail of pain and pleasure. He could see his body hair dissolving away in rivulets of sweat, his skin sensitive, smooth, even the color leeching out in cloudy droplets of tan streaks, leaving it flawless and pale, the slightest touch enough to turn him on as his cock struggled against a growing desire to harden fully.

“Whaaa-hahaha-t is h-hahahappening toohoohooo m-MMPH?!” The first Harley struck with a kiss, her tongue driving deep into his mouth. It was so sudden, so shocking, so good. His eyes glazed over, pleased grunts echoing as he felt her tongue slide a few hard squares into his mouth, eyes widening as more of the drug was shoved in, the sickening sweetness drowning his thoughts in bliss as his throat wobbled, all of the batches of corruptive, blissful Harleyness swallowed deeper into his being.

Their makeout session was getting intense, her teeth tenderly teasing his lips as they swelled, his tongue shrinking as it locked with hers, teeth and jaw shrinking and softening until two identical mouths swelled into one another, his tastebuds desiring more of that sweet flavor on Harley’s lips, his mind swimming in her scent, her taste, her touch. She separated then, Bruce left gasping, moaning for more as the mirror held his gaze, his face hypnotizing in the erasure of his old features. Gone were those hard statuesque cheekbones, his wild laughs working the bones down to something cuter, fuller, his broad nose wiggling its way down to a pert little thing that flared, breathing in more gas, letting the fumes burn his thoughts with wild, reckless abandon.

All of the drug plopped into his stomach juices with a dizzying fizz, his stomach flexing as ecstasy rocked his very core, his laughs more like staccatoed cries of pure pleasure as his eyes widened to large, doey things, so big and blue that you could drown in their gaze. Harley’s face stared back atop his trembling frame, one shoulder half collapsed in at a rounded angle while the remaining one stood stubbornly out of place making him look like a bad Picasso. He laughed hard, laughs swelling to moans as the second Harley crawled towards him, her mouth wrapping around his hard cock, ready to suck and blow away all that pesky masculinity holding him back from greatness.

She mocked him, waving a vial before she started, his precious evidence, the chemicals he’d need to make an antidote, Harley struggling with the stopper before shrugging and breaking the tube open on the mirror, glass tinkling away as she downed it like a shot, her cheeks swelling like a chipmunk’s as she got down to blow him. Her lips were like heaven, her tongue working its way around his shaft as he moaned deeply, feeling it in his core as his sides collapsed inwards, his back smacking against the chair until he felt his spine arch inwards, height compressing down into a smooth feminine arch.

When Harley’s mouth had fully encompassed Batman’s cock her tongue began exploring his tip, the chemical bath burning the sensitive skin in the best way, his moans rising to keeling gusts of giggles. The more her tongue licked at his urethra, the more it widened, his cock throbbing as an intensely alien feeling filled it, her tongue pressing deeper, making it stubbier, gaining an indescribable need. And then her mouth puckered like she was blowing a balloon, her mouth sliding back to only cover his mushroom swollen tip, sending all that dangerous feminine fluid up his shaft and into his balls, his mind shattering as the ecstasy of Harley burned in his balls, swam in his genitals, melted them from the inside out.

He came, harder than he ever had in his life, his releases ropy shots of cum drenched pink from the chemicals, the melting innards, his testicles pressing tighter and tighter as the liquified drug pumped deeper and deeper into his pelvis, both testicles tensing against his groin before rocketing inside with two messy, moist SCHLICKS! The pink releases might as well have been his pink matter, his brain being fucked out by his own cock and balls, names sparking and fading, memories shifting to psychiatry and psychopathy, pleasure overtaking any civic responsibility or desire to do good. Giving up who he was felt fucking amazing and why the heck would he ever wanna do something that didn’t feel fun? Oh fuck this was baaad~! Just. Like. Her. The thought of herself as a woman was hilarious, but thinking she was a man was an even bigger laugh riot. Ooh~ riots! So much chaos, so much fun ta steal and break and dominate hehe…

“N-Noooooohohoho hee hee I-I’m naaaahhhht like y-oooooh~!” The other two Harleys were bringing over supplies, a big tattoo needle, polish, makeup, clothes.

“Aww don’t fight it so much bats. Wait what am I sayin? That’s our favorit’ paaaart~! Ya shoulda seen Mistah J when we made this thing. Oh he fought for a half a day. Actually we don’t even know which one of us was him anymore. Not like we care who came first as long as someone came. Welp, time ta punish ya for fightin. Ready for ya prison tats?” Without waiting the two Harleys revved up their needles, letting the inks get ready as they colored his nails, hands and feet shivering into daintiness, his remaining shoulder caving in as he moaned, his balless cock tensing, nipples rock hard.

Some part of him pleaded, not that it really mattered. They didn’t care. Honestly neither did he, loving as that dumb lawfulness wasn’t just drained, it was forced out in dizzying, ecstatic encroachments of Harley. The top Harley put the tattoo needle on his left arm, drawing a crimson, shaky diamond, the sensitivity of his skin and the sudden painful pierce making him squeal as his cock shot out another load of clearer pink cum, the shaft wobbling as it angled downwards, an inch fucking his shifting insides as he screamed. The pink rain of release didn’t seem to bother the other Harley down below, her black ink searing fat into his thighs, her name into his body.

HARLEY

Yep, that was her and god did it feel good. She couldn’t stop herself, tearing at her erect nipples and crying as the pain made them swell and fill with juicy, thick fat. Who cared if it fucked with her tattoos, it felt too good, her own hands working at her growing boobies, her arm artist mixing in sloppy kisses while dyeing her arm in a matrix of red and blue diamonds. The lower Harley was slapping her ass between letters, groping her flat ass and making it rise to a curvy little booty. She screamed as her cock continued to shrink, spurting out all those dumb, boring icky thoughts she just didn’t need, her hips curving outwards while her thighs squeezed her cock, sending the stubborn shaft deeper and deeper into her forming slit. She finally knew what that new need was, wanting to be filled and fucked as her cock performed beautifully for its last performance, swelling and throbbing as it thrust deeper into her quaking pussy.

The upper Harley had stopped adding diamonds a while ago, the two going at it as they groped each other, violently teasing and sucking on each other’s tits and faces. The other Harley was a bit more diligent, fingering herself as she finished the almost Harley’s stomach tattoos, her waist finishing it’s slim down, the muscles roiling in curvy, erotic wonder as the second tattoo needle went skittering across the floor, Harley’s tongue going right for the last piece of whoever this Harley had been. She screamed as her tip was thrust inside her snatch, each cry rising into higher and higher fits of hysterical, orgasmic laughter, her pussy cumming again and again until the releases ran clear and sweet like corn syrup, her new sisters more than happy to test her new goods.

“OH FUUUUUCK FUUUCK YES! YEEEESSSSS~!”

Harley finished the last of her makeup, dropping the needle as she finished a cute, black heart under her left eye. She felt sexy, powerful, free. Mmm she couldn’t wait to corrupt some more people inta her. She wanted to suck the identity out, make em squirm and squeal before the laughter took over. Apparently Batman had popped on by though the three Harleys had all gotten pretty fucked up on HaHa so they couldn’t remember much past the intense orgy. That’d be fine though. They wanted him to come. Then they’d make him cum into one of their cute lil sistahs. It’d be a nice change of pace, a real good final fight! Oh the thought of fucking Batman’s dick away was making her so wet right now. Harley was walking around Gotham topless, waiting for some idiot to show her a good time before dosing em with her HaHa. She couldn’t wait till every street was painted her colors, every cop, gangster and villain a horny happy slut. Soon all of Gotham would lose its dourness and they could all have fun. The whole town was gonna be a laugh riot.