Harley Quinn trembled as she entered the warehouse. Not from the cold (though it was freezing, and her thin spandex bodysuit was doing little to keep her warm), nor from fear (though the thought of what Mister J would do to her as punishment for what she was about to do shook her to her core in the brief moments she could still entertain rational thoughts). A want, a desire, a NEED had taken hold over her being. Her body was shaking, her heart racing, and her stomach aching. All of these feelings grew more and more intense as she approached a fleet of shipping containers, each marked with cartoonish paintings of Mister J and her... and the name of what she so desperately craved:
PUDDIN'
The center of Mister J's most recent scheme (and inspired by Harley's favorite pet name for her lover), "Puddin'" looked as innocuous as any other brand of pre-packaged pudding cups. However, mixed in with the milk and sugar was a highly addictive chemical compound that would leave the subject violently craving more. For most, this would be an easy path to strong and steady sales, but money was the last thing on Mister J's mind. Instead, his plan was to push this product out to market, let a sufficient amount of Gotham's population develop a deep dependency to the sweet treat, pull it from the market suddenly, and then watch and laugh at the resulting riots.
Unfortunately, Harley didn't know any of this when she first sampled the pudding, leaving her in her current state of crippling dependence. Mister J wouldn't let her have any more of the concoction, nor did he have any real antidote, so Harley was left in a state of unbearable agony. The only way for her to stop it was to somehow, someway get more.
To that end, she arrived where she is now, having snuck into the warehouse to pry open one of the dozens of shipping containers of pudding. Yes, Mister J would be mighty angry at her for cutting into the product, but surely her having just one more cup wouldn't hurt it too much...
As Harley opened the container and looked upon the countless packages inside, "one more cup" became a much harder thought to fathom. How could she... how could ANYONE resist just diving into all that delicious goodness? Still, she tried to restrain herself as she tore open one of the packages in front of her, and pulled out a cup. Her hands shook hard from withdrawal and anticipation as she ripped off the foil lid, and scooped out the contents with her fingers, nearly dropping it all.
As she sucked up the dollop from her hands, all her violent tremors seemed to subside. Pain, fear, anxiety, everything that held sway over her being these past few hours disappeared in an instant. In its place were warmth, comfort and pleasure. Feelings she wanted... no, needed more of.
Harley scooped out another bite. And another. And another. And another.
Harley tore through cup after cup after cup, scooping out every last drop she could and licking out whatever was left. The sweet taste and smooth texture excited every fiber in her body, enrapturing her so intensely that she couldn't think of anything else but shovelling more and more pudding into her mouth. Not a thought was afforded to Mister J or his plan, and neither was one afforded to the much more immediate consequences of her binge.
A thin layer of blubber on her abdomen quickly expanded into a doughy dome, growing bigger and fuller with each mouthful. Her already broad hips widened even further as her once tight bottom grew soft and sizeable. Perky breasts hung lower and lower as they gained more and more mass. Slim, supple legs thickened into bloated tree trunks, light, slender arms became heavy and clumsy, and even her sharp visage quickly rounded out as her cheeks and chin (or rather, chins) filled with pound upon pound of facial fat.
"One more cup" quickly became "one more package," then "one more pallet." If given enough time, it would have surely evolved into "one more shipping container." However, before it could reach that point, the sound of footsteps broke Harley out of her pudding fuelled haze. For this brief moment, Harley regained the clarity that she'd lost with her first taste so many hours ago... and with it, could finally feel the weight of her transgressions.
Said weight was far from figurative, though, as Harley's first thoughts turned to how heavy her body had become, so burdensome that she questioned how she even stood. Peering over her blubbery cheeks, she quickly saw why she felt so ponderous, as her lithe, acrobatic body had been buried under an unreal amount of fatty tissue. Her belly had become a bloated boulder hanging a scant inch or two from the ground, divided into two rolls horizontally across the navel, with a deep indent from said navel running down the lower roll. Atop her titanic tummy were a pair of massive mammaries, flattening somewhat as their own incredible weight pressed against the dome of Harley's belly. Her legs were now hulking stacks of fat rolls, billowing over the ankles of her pudgy feet. Each roll of leg flab was bigger than the one below, leading up to her elephantine ass, featuring innumerable dimples and a deep shelf for her cascading back fat rolls to rest on. Her hips had become so vast that they threatened to lodge her in the shipping container if she turned the wrong way. The heavy flab of Harley's arms restricted their movement, the upper arm bags resting along the sides of her breasts. Even her hands and fingers had gained enough mass to become soft and clumsy. The only consolation that Harley had at this point is that her costume had somehow remained intact... though with how tightly it clung to every curve, roll, and fold of her body, it was clear it wasn't going to hold much longer.
Harley had little time to react to all of this, though, as the footsteps drew ever closer, the silhouette of whoever was approaching visible from the opening of the container. While she could only barely make out the shape ahead, Harley automatically assumed the worst.
"M-Mhisstah Jeh?" she asked fearfully, her heavy Brooklyn accent and even heavier cheeks and chins slurring her words to near incomprehensibility.
No response.
Harley stammered as a nervous smile crossed her chocolate-stained face. "Mhisstah Jeh, A-Ah knoh Ah w-wwassn'tt sh'posse tah..." She paused for breath, the incredible weight on her chest making that a difficult task. "...tah di-dihpp ihntah dah suh-suhpply... buh... buh..."
The figure's approach continued, unmoved, undaunted...
"...Buh Ah cuudn'tt 'ehlpp mahselff!!!" Harley's screechy cries was muffled by her mounds of face-fat. "...Wha'ehvah yhoo puhtt.. .ihn dahtt puhddin' whass juss... whass juss too powahfuhll, Puhddin'!!! Ah cuudn'tt... Ah cuudn'tt..."
As the shape reached the threshold of the container, Harley fell silent, realizing that she had been mistaken. Whoever this was, it wasn't Mister J. Mister J didn't usually wear a cape, and he sure as hell didn't have two little pointed ears at the top of his head...
Tags: weight gain, comics
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Story by J. Faraday |
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Artwork by Rosita Amici |
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