Something was different – Batman could tell immediately. He had only had his nannite induced female body a short while and yet he already knew it well enough to know something had changed. But what was it? He studied his slender arms and then slowly raised his hands to his face. No that wasn't it, yet he felt...something – in the shrug of his shoulders, in the way his arms passed his chest... An idea formed and he swiftly grabbed the hem of his dress and pulled it up over his head in a single movement. His hands immediately grasped his breasts. They were different...larger...fuller... They were the change he had sensed, but was what had changed physical? Neurological? Chemical? Perhaps all three? He continued to massage his bust and alarm sparked deep in the back of his mind. Retrieving the nannite inducer from his discarded dress, a small pipette-like device with a tiny screen, he pressed it into his forearm. 'TRANSFORMATION BLOCKED – GENETIC TEMPLATE COMPROMISED.' Crap...
“Impressive, aren't they?” Batman's head whipped up to greet the figure that had just entered the room. Hugo Strange himself stood in the doorway, a grin plastered across his face. The nannite inducer fell to the floor and the display instantly reset so only the date showed. Batman was astonished to see that two months had apparently passed since he had infiltrated the Inflatable Factory. But how was that possible? It had been just a few days... “Well?” Hugo Strange prompted. “Do you like them?”
“What have you done to me?” Batman demanded calmly, allowing his arms to fall to his sides so that his new breasts were fully exposed to the villain before him. “And can it be reversed?”
“Reversed?” Hugo Strange chuckled. “My dear, there is nothing to reverse. I haven't done anything to you...not to your breasts anyway. You did that. I merely gave your brain a problem it desperately needed to solve. That's the fascinating part of this new project of mine. The transformation isn't imposed on the victim...sorry, subject – the subject's own neurological architecture demands the changes to accommodate the suggestions it has been receiving. That part was me admittedly...” Strange held up his hands in mock guilt. “But I assure you, my Dear, it was you who scheduled and went through with the addition of those splendid implants. The body is surprisingly cooperative. Give the mind a sufficiently convincing reality and the body eventually stops asking questions.” He paused and studied Batman thoughtfully, who was watching him like a hawk about to strike its prey. “May I make an observation? You're remarkably composed for a young woman who has just found out she is being mind-controlled into a life as a bimbo.” He looked Batman up and down from his stockinged legs to his long glossy hair and back again. “You've no doubt noticed the tattoos too and yet you say nothing. You are calculating. Fascinating! Most of my mannequins have begged for mercy by this stage..you just look like you want to destroy me. Well, you should know...” Hugo turned to leave the room. “The question is not 'can you stop me?' It is can you stop yourself transforming yourself before there is nothing of what you began with that remains. 'Mara Black', wasn't it? I think I am going to enjoy watching your journey!”
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