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Author's Chapter Notes:
All characters are copyright of DC Comics. I derive no monetary gain from their use.

Calling on all his acrobatic training, Nightwing leaped from side to side, barely evading the panicked giantesses. The ladies were in a state of abject terror from the gas-induced visions before them and the presence of the miniature hero had quite slipped their addled minds. Feeling herself falling through space in an imagined plane crash, Lady Blackhawk collapsed to the floor with a deafening rumble, almost crushing the little man beneath her mountainous body. Nightwing sprinted away from this staggering collapse but soon found himself in danger’s path again.

 

Black Canary backed fearfully away from her own hallucination, unaware of the tiny man underfoot. Nightwing was cast in shadow by the gray tread pattern above and quickly jumped to the side. The gigantic boot-clad foot came down with a crash and he was cast forward by the sudden displacement of air.

 

His minute body was tossed like a leaf on the wind, bringing him into a sudden collision with the dark purple boot of the Huntress. Before this terrible instrument could shift position, the little hero jumped atop it. Fighting to keep his balance, Nightwing fired a grapple line high into the sky, catching the edge of her collar and pulling him upwards. He clung tightly to this black leather wall, trying to get the woman’s attention.

 

“Huntress! Helena! Snap out of it! You have to get rid of that skull-gadget! The gas will—”

 

The normally fearless Huntress could not see the agitated little man just below her neck. In her eyes, he had become one of the countless spiders and insects that were crawling over every inch of her. With a shriek, she slapped her hands against her body in a futile attempt to drive back the swarm.

 

Nightwing ducked and weaved from his dangling position as enormous feminine hands crashed against her towering form like meteors falling from space. With no desire to end up a smear on her costume, he hastily sought refuge beneath the folds of fabric. The constant onslaught of her front was too dangerous so the tiny figure quickly slipped under the back of the Huntress’ collar. He tried to maintain a handhold but a sudden movement from his hostess sent him sliding down the smooth skin of her back and into a world darkened by a canopy of black leather.

 

Nearby, the Black Canary continued to stagger away from the object of her visions. The skeletal shape of her lover, Green Arrow, reached out to her with a beckoning gesture. Bits of rotting flesh clung to his bones and his tattered green Robin Hood costume was in rags.

 

“Dinah,” the Arrow said to her with a guttural croak. “Join meeeee…..”

 

Shaking violently, Black Canary could stand no more. With all the force she could muster, she let loose a shrill, ear-piercing scream. The chamber trembled and the windows of the helicopter shattered as the Canary’s metahuman sonic cry burst forth from her altered lungs. The destructive sound waves swept forward, blasting a hole in the side of the aircraft. At once, the pall of gas that hung over the group began to disperse through this opening. Within moments, the fearful hallucinations ceased.

 

Oracle uncurled from her defensive position in her chair. The terrible grin of the Joker disappeared and the murderous villain himself vanished into thin air. Regaining control of her senses, Barbara Gordon turned to her team.

 

“Everyone all right?”

 

Lady Blackhawk groaned and painfully propped herself up on her hands. “Urrgh…fine and dandy, Skipper,” she said, unconvincingly.

 

Pulling herself together, the Black Canary picked up the skull device and tossed it out the opening after the gas. “I guess it’s a fair assumption that the Scarecrow is involved in this case,” she declared. “This was a lucky break, guys. I could have killed someone with that blast.”

 

Oracle’s eyes shot open in alarm. “Oh God! Nightwing!” She looked at her shoulder and found it empty. Nervously, she felt about her person and scanned the immediate area. “We have to find him! He could have been…we might have…oh no…”

 

The Huntress’ heart was still pounding and she sat down in a nearby chair, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. At once, she bolted to her feet again in shock.

 

The others stared at her. “Helena?” the Canary said.

 

With a look of embarrassment, Huntress covered her posterior with both hands. “I, ah, think I found him.”

 

“Where is—”

 

“Give me a minute, okay?!” Stepping backwards, the Huntress slipped into the cockpit of the helicopter while slowly unzipping the back of her costume. She shortly returned, having removed Nightwing from his precarious location.

 

The miniature figure seemed a bit bruised and definitely shaken but was otherwise intact. “I have no idea how he got in my clothes, Barbara,” Huntress said, handing him back to Oracle. “I was not trying to steal your man, I swear to God.”

 

“I’m just glad he’s okay,” said Oracle, stroking the frightened little hero with her finger.

 

“Bad news, girls,” Lady Blackhawk called, after peering up through their new “skylight.” “This old bird’s grounded. Canary’s scream took out the rotors. Looks like we’re stayin’ in Ivytown a bit longer.”

 

As if sensing this rotten turn of luck, the com-link on Oracle’s laptop began to flicker. When the woman opened the connection, she was greeted by the masked visage of Batgirl. Robin sat upon her shoulder.

 

“Barbara, it’s bad,” Batgirl said. “Need help. Harley and Ivy have Batman.”

 

Oracle closed her eyes and rubbed them with sudden weariness. “Dammit. We had a little run-in with Scarecrow, Cass. We’re stuck here for the moment.”

 

“Unless,” she continued, “you can get us to Gotham another way…”

 

* * * *

 

“Left! No, your other left! Pull up, pull up!”

 

White-knuckled and terrified, Batgirl clutched the controls of the Batplane. With her mask pulled back, the tiny Robin sat halfway wedged in her ear, trying to guide the novice pilot through the motions. The dark, black jet careened wildly through the skies.

 

“You’re doing great, Cass, you’re—” The aircraft suddenly lurched to the side, sending Robin hurtling out of the young woman’s ear. He reached out and grabbed hold of her earlobe, dangling in the wind like a fashion accessory. With a bit of effort, he scrambled back up into the small alcove.

 

“Sorry,” said Batgirl.

 

“No problem,” Robin answered amiably, ignoring the chill that ran up his spine. “It’s hard to see the control board from here but I think we’re almost to Ivytown. Babs will know what to do. She always does.”

 

Batgirl certainly hoped so. They had no leads, no idea of where the villainesses had taken Batman. Oracle’s resources and contacts might be their best hope of locating their captured leader. Batgirl could only imagine what horrors he might be enduring at that very moment.

 

* * * *

 

            “More tea, Miss Battingsly?” Harley Quinn giggled as she loomed over the tiny doll tea set. In her shadow below, the shrunken Batman (now little more than half an inch high) glared up at her in rage. His dark costume was obscured by a red and white polka dot dress several sizes too big.

 

            “When I’m back to normal, Quinn,” he growled, “I’ll break every bone in your body.”

 

            Harley gave a mock gasp and clucked her tongue at him. “Such manners! That’s the last time I invite you over to the hideout! And here I was going to serve cucumber sandwiches later. Well,” she said with an impish grin. A giant hand reached down and plucked Batman from his seat, bringing him closer to Harley’s painted black lips. “I suppose there could always be a change on the menu…” The maniacal clown opened wide, guiding the tiny man into the warm, wet cavern. Batman steeled himself as he stared down the yawning abyss of her throat.

 

            Poison Ivy strolled over to where her partner was playing. “Now look who’s trying to eat him,” she laughed.

 

            Harley quickly removed the little man from her mouth. “I was just trying to scare him!”

 

            “Give him here, Harl,” Ivy said, holding out her hand. “I’ll show you how to really scare someone…”

 

            “By all means, do, dear lady,” a man’s voice said behind them. The two curvy criminals spun around to see the bearded face of Prof. Hugo Strange.

 

            “Hey, who’s the egghead?” said Harley.

 

            “What the hell are you doing here?” Ivy spat. “Professor…Weird, is it?”

           

“Strange,” the psychologist answered. “Hugo Strange, at your service. You look upon the man who has made this unique opportunity possible.”

 

“You did this to Batman?” Ivy asked. “So, what, you want a thank you or something? How about I not douse you in deadly nightshade for invading our home? Sound fair, little man?”

 

“I want nothing, Miss Isely,” Strange claimed. “I am guided by curiosity alone. Your escapades were all over the police bands and I determined that my escaped quarry was certain to be in your vicinity. And lo, there he is. I’m afraid red is simply not your color, Batman.”

 

“When I finish with Quinn,” Batman said through gritted teeth, “you’re next, Strange.”

 

The professor laughed. “My, listen to the little bat chitter. Was that a threat? I couldn’t hear him.”

 

“How’d you know we wouldn’t just kill him when we found him, Strange?” Ivy inquired.

 

“Please,” the scientist said. “I know the way your twisted mind works, Ivy. A woman with your penchant for extremist feminism and sadistic domination could never resist flaunting her superiority over an agent of the patriarchal order.”

 

“What’d he say?” Harley asked, bewildered.

 

“He said I like putting men in their place,” said Ivy. “I thought you were a psychiatrist before you went kooky, Harl.”

 

“Pfft,” Harley scoffed. “Like I ever had to study with a body like this. Teacher’s pet, baby!”

 

“Charming,” Prof. Strange deadpanned. “I must confess my disappointment, ladies. An arch-foe captured by two infamous criminals such as yourselves and the best you can come up with is a tea party?”

 

“That was Harley’s idea,” Ivy said, snatching Batman from her partner and taking off his ridiculous doll dress. “I had…other uses in mind.”

 

“Do tell,” said Strange. “Then please proceed. I’ve been anxious to learn the physical and psychological effects of miniaturization. This will make an excellent case study.”

 

Poison Ivy slowly sidled up to Strange and thrust out her chest seductively. “So…you like to watch, Professor?”

 

Hugo Strange tugged at his collar nervously. “Er…in so many words.”

 

Ivy licked her lips and smiled. “First, however, I’d say it’s time we find out who the Dark Knight really is,” she said.

 

“Child’s play,” said Prof. Strange. “I’ve known for years.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Harley challenged. “Then who is he, smarty-pants?”

 

“Such knowledge must be earned, Miss Quinn.”

 

“Well,” Ivy added, removing the minuscule man’s cowl, “we’re about to earn it. The Batman is really…”

 

A reverent silence passed as the two women peered at the struggling figure in Ivy’s fingers. Then they leaned closer. And squinted.

 

“…really tiny,” Ivy concluded. “Damn it, he’s too small! I can’t make out his face!”

 

Strange chuckled. “And thus, I remain among the elite. Only a select few foes are privy to the Batman’s identity. Ra’s al Ghul knows,” he said mockingly. “Bane knows. Hell, I think the Riddler found out once before he lost his memory…”

 

“Shut up, you!” Ivy shouted at the smug professor. “You want to watch me torture this pointy-eared freak? Take a seat, baldy! Harley, go find a magnifying glass for later!”

 

With fire in her eyes, Poison Ivy stuffed the half-inch Batman into her cleavage until he was buried up to his shoulders. She placed a hand on either side of her generous bosom and squeezed.

 

Colossal walls of soft, flagrant flesh closed in around the Caped Crusader, almost crushing him. Ivy squeezed tighter and the little man vanished entirely into this deep crevasse. The enormous breasts continued their assault and Batman was entombed in the depths of her décolletage. The air was forced from his lungs and he felt something snap within him. Just as he feared he would be mashed to pulp, the fleshy mountains receded slightly. Before the tiny prisoner could climb to freedom, Ivy began to shake her chest from side to side, jiggling her considerable assets freely. Batman was tossed to and fro off the soft barriers to either side. This unending motion threatened to give him whiplash. It was then that Ivy began to bounce.

 

“Fascinating,” came the muffled voice of Hugo Strange from above. “Overpowering him with the very symbols of your femininity. Your psychoses are simply delicious, Miss Isely. I could study you all night.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll bet you could,” Ivy agreed, sarcastically. Her voice reverberated throughout her chest, causing Batman’s prison to tremble.

 

As she paused to consider her next torment, Batman wasted no time. He pushed off the cushiony walls, sliding downward through Ivy’s leaf-covered bodice like an athlete competing in the luge.

 

Down the smooth surface of her belly he slid, bouncing slightly as he crossed her navel. At last, he came to rest at the bottom of her leotard. Ignoring for the moment that Poison Ivy was apparently not in the habit of wearing undergarments, he wriggled his way into her green tights and began to slide down her thigh.

 

Outside, Ivy began to squirm. “Ahh, it tickles, it—wait. Where’s he going?”

 

Drawing a batarang from his belt, Batman used the sharp edge of the weapon to slice through the lining of the stocking during his descent. He leaped out into the open air, freefell into a crouch onto Ivy’s boot, and sprung from atop her foot. Firing his grappling hook at a battered, discarded sofa serving as furniture in the villains’ lair, he was pulled away faster than the giantess could react. Enraged, Ivy watched him scurry underneath the couch like a cockroach.

 

“Why, you little worm!” Ivy shrieked. “That’s it! Screw the magnifying glass! When I find you, Batman, I’m going to squish you like a bug and spread what’s left on toast!”

 

Batman lurked in the shadows below the sofa and affixed an electronic tracer to one of its legs. He hoped the signal given off by this gadget would be strong enough. Much as he hated to admit it, he needed help.

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