(Explicit, over-the-top, and 100 % overprotective-mommy escalation)
(Explicit, over-the-top, and 100 % overprotective-mommy escalation)
The penthouse was quiet for exactly six minutes after Damien fell asleep on the couch, wedged safely between Joki and Harley like a shy kitten between two lionesses.
Then the air shimmered.
It started as a soft pink pulse, like someone had turned the room's lighting to "horny sunset." Damien didn't wake; he was too exhausted from the meeting and the cuddling and the sheer emotional whiplash of the last forty-eight hours.
Joki and Harley did.
They sat up at the same time, eyes wide, glowing faintly.
"Oh," Joki breathed, voice trembling with something between awe and lust. "Baby's dreaming again."
Harley bit her lip so hard it went white. "He's… he's wishing for us to keep him even safer. I can feel it."
The shimmer intensified.
Reality folded like warm taffy.
Joki's spine arched first. A low, broken moan escaped her throat as her already impossible body began to grow. Shoulders stayed delicate, waist cinched tighter, but everything else detonated outward in slow, luxurious waves.
Her breasts surged forward, heavier, rounder, impossibly fuller, until the silk robe split down the middle with a soft riiiiip. They spilled free, each easily larger than Damien's entire torso now, pale and perfect and so heavy they rested on her thighs even while sitting. Her hips flared wider, ass ballooning until it lifted her several inches off the couch cushions. Thighs thickened into plush, creamy pillows that rubbed together with every tiny shift.
Harley was next.
She gasped, back bowing, as her own curves exploded outward in perfect synchrony. Breasts ballooned past Joki's new size (because of course Harley had to win), swelling into two glossy, gravity-defying orbs that shredded her tank top completely. Her ass and hips widened until the couch groaned under the new weight, thighs pressing together with a soft, wet sound.
When it finished, both women were nearly seven feet tall, built like fertility statues carved by a god with very specific fetishes. Their skin glowed faintly pink, hair longer and shinier, lips plumper, eyes huge and luminous with pure, obsessive love.
They looked down at themselves, then at each other, then at the sleeping boy curled between them, and made the exact same soft, reverent sound.
"We're big enough now," Joki whispered, voice husky. "Big enough to keep him safe from anything."
Harley's eyes filled with tears. "He'll never be scared again."
They curled back around him carefully (very carefully), their new, massive bodies forming a living fortress of soft curves and warm skin. Damien sighed in his sleep and burrowed closer, instinctively seeking the new warmth.
Outside, Gotham's night got a little colder.
Batman stood on a gargoyle three blocks away, staring at thermal scans of the penthouse.
The energy signature was off the charts. Two humanoid figures, impossibly large, wrapped protectively around a much smaller one.
Alfred's voice crackled in his ear. "Master Bruce, Oracle has lost visual on the boy. Whatever is in that building is… blocking everything. Even the satellites."
Batman's jaw tightened.
"Find me an entrance," he said.
Across town, Batgirl was already moving.
Barbara Gordon dropped onto the penthouse balcony in full stealth mode, grappling line silent. She'd traced the anomaly to this building hours ago and refused to wait for Bruce's over-cautious planning.
The glass door was unlocked.
She slipped inside.
And froze.
The living room was dimly lit by pink neon. The couch looked like a throne made of curves.
Joki and Harley (now towering, impossibly voluptuous goddesses) sat with Damien asleep in their laps, his head pillowed on Joki's chest, Harley's arms wrapped around both of them.
Batgirl's brain blue-screened for a solid three seconds.
Then Damien stirred, sensing movement. His eyes fluttered open.
He saw Batgirl.
Batgirl saw him.
For one heartbeat the room was perfectly still.
Then Damien let out the tiniest, most terrified squeak and tried to hide behind Joki's hair.
Joki and Harley moved at the same time.
They rose to their full seven-foot height in one fluid, terrifying motion, bodies shifting to place themselves between Damien and the intruder. Their silhouettes filled the room like living statues of maternal wrath.
"Who are you?" Joki asked, voice soft and sweet and edged with murder.
"And why are you scaring our baby?" Harley added, cracking her knuckles.
Batgirl's hands came up slowly. "Easy. I'm not here to hurt him. I just… need to talk."
Damien peeked out from behind Joki's arm, eyes huge. "B-Batgirl…?"
Barbara's gaze flicked to him, then to the two giants shielding him like mother bears.
She swallowed.
"…Hi, Damien."
Damien clutched Joki's robe tighter. "Please don't take me away," he whispered. "They're… they're my family now."
Joki's hand settled protectively on his head, stroking gently. Harley's eyes narrowed to slits.
Batgirl took one careful step forward.
And the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees.
Outside, Batman's comm crackled with Barbara's quiet, stunned voice:
"Bruce… I found the Prince.
And I don't think we're getting him back without starting a war."
Behind her, Joki leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Damien's head.
"Shh, baby," she murmured. "Mommy and Harley have you. No one's taking you anywhere."
Harley grinned, all teeth.
"Ever."
End of Chapter Three.