And so...it began.

   They came at her again and again durring the next few days. As each of her old foes took her...they took something away from her. She struggled to keep her self in order, but after Croc and Bane had gone at her, she felt a core of violence and brutality building inside her. They were taking her 'Bruce Wayne' nature...taking it...and replacing it with tiny slivers of their own souls. As they'd fucked her, she'd become slightly more muscular and solid. Less like a muscle queen and more like a tough, street girl who sometimes worked out. It happened again after Blockbuster went at her. Now she WAS somewhat bigger, and much more muscular. Then the Mad Hatter, Scarecrow and Ventriloquist took her later, and she felt the burning seeds of lunacy building in her.

   She tried to keep these things from affecting her...but as each villain entered her and left behind a kernal of themselves, her inner 'Bat-man' nature became warped. Somewhere around the time Hugo Strange took her, she lost sight of what had made Bat-man a hero, and later when Clue Master had her bent over, heaving and gasping as he fucked her...she felt genuine hate for the very idea of law and order...durring this period, her 'mother', the overweight, aging whore Selina Kyle, and her new 'girl friend' Harley Quinn, began teaching her how to steal. A week later, and the shameless little klepto was shoplifting as a matter of course, not doing so for any real reason...just doing so because she liked to steal.

   The list of Bat-man villains who wanted to have their crack at her was growing short, but in a way...that was good. The influence of the hordes of criminals who'd fucked her and left their taint was long, and the effect had been to create a bitter, sullen little tramp with the solid physique of a brawler to go with her huge fake tits and hookers nature. She sauntered down the street, blareing her shrill cries ("Hey, fucka...youse wanna date? Baby fuck yuh awl nigh' long!"), not a thought in her head (thanks to the number of brain-damaged morons like Blockbuster a Grundy who'd had a go at her) or a moral in her heart. She was a ruined person. She was damaged goods. She was a whore and nothing else...

   They'd come to her at last...and they'd done so out of an almost tender respect. They didn't understand how the Joker had done what he'd done, but they had differing opinions...and they came last because they hated to see their finr foe so throughly destroyed. To die in combat, yes - they'd all wanted to kill the the man - but this...was just wrong.

   And so, Poison Ivy came to her...and left the little baggage with more brains than she'd had, as well as a sense of self esteem she'd never known in her new life. Deadshot left her with a coldly mercenary view of the world that somehow stripped away the need to slavishly do whatever 'Mista J' wanted, as well...something else. The Riddler added to her mind, leaving her with a cleverness that told her 'theft is fine, but you must be cunning about it', while the Penguin left her with the dignity and pride of a preening peacock...as well as a solid belly, big ass and a soft, plump coating that jiggled over her brawny body. Finally, Two-Face took the now somewhat proud, fat little criminal...and gave her...

   She was...stunned as Harvey Dent left the room. She looked nothing at all like Bruce Wayne anymore, as the army of villains who had screwed her over the klast month had each left some trace of themselves. Her jaw held shades of the Joker, while her nose suggested the Penguin, and her lop-sided smile showed traces of the Riddler. Her hair was still mostly black, but it was now naturally tinted with auburn highlites that Poison Ivy would have recognized. She was still short (only hitting 5-foot six due to her habit of wearing spiked heels) but her shoulders were broad, as was her plush rump and full, round belly bellow her massive fake tits. She wrestled with the strange mix of new emotions and ideas that the latest crop of coustomers had implanted in her...and she smiled. It was the Jokers smile (he thick lips naturally crimson) with the Penguins arrogance and the gleam of the Riddler in her eyes. She inspected herself...and liked everything. She no longer had much interest in her old life, though there were traces that she held dear, but mostly...

   Alfred Pennyworth was somewhat taken aback at the appearance of Baby Cakes at his door, Selina Kyle in tow. "Why...Barbara...I mean, Baby Cakes...it's not our usual day for sexplay..."

   The fat, little whore waddle-strutted past him, Selina taking up the rear. "It's okay, Alfie...I unnerstan' what'cha did, an' I admires yah fer it. Yah sure is a smart cookie, Alfie...an' Baby likes dat. Does yah like whut Baby grow'd up as? Does yah likes dis lil' whore, shakin' dis big ass an' fuckin' awl nigh' long?"

   Alfred gasped as Baby Cakes (in the back of his mind, he screamed "I'm sorry, Master Bruce!") cupped his own huge member. His cock had been the huge, long shaft of a porn star since he'd first woken as master of Pennyworth Manor, and everytime he felt the urge to beg his former employer for forgivness, he instead fucked her. He was a sex addict to the core, and he genuinly loved to fuck Baby Cakes.

   "I...love you, you little tramp. You're a dirty, filthy whore...and I love it." Alfred gasped, as Baby Cakes squeezed and squeezed, sending him into the sky with need. He wanted to scream in shame, his old mind being so close to the serface, but he also felt comfort that Baby Cakes was so...happy? She seemed not the simple, filthy whore from before, and her face...and when did she get so fat?

   Still...he wanted to fuck her. Fuck them both, actually. 

   Baby Cakes tossed down a bag and said "I'm movin' in, Alfie. An' my mom's movin' in too. We're gonna have fun, you an' me...an' we're gonna talk about how I'm gonna be da new crime boss of Gotham."

   "But...the Joker...?"

   "He's jus' gonna hav' tah be (giggle) taken care of...once we figure how he did dis tah me, an' how tah steal it away fum him."