BAE Chapter 65

Gotham General is always busy. Barbara finds Stephanie at the coffee shop off the main lobby. Stephanie stands at the window gazing across the lot at the Emergency Department, which is especially busy. She idly stirs a coffee that’s already almost empty. Barbara takes it out of her hand and drinks what’s left, then hands it back.

“What do we have?”

Stephanie hands Barbara her phone. “Look in the photos,” she says and heads to the counter for more coffee.

Barbara opens the photo app and swipes through the screencaps that Stephanie has saved. She used one of Bruce’s override thumb drives to get into the hospital’s network and check both patient charts and security cameras.

It takes a minute of reading for Barbara to put it together. It would’ve been easier for Stephanie to just say it, but Barbara can understand why she didn’t.

There are several women here with penises, but Stephanie hasn’t been able to get their police statements, which makes it difficult to track a pattern. From patient charts, Barbara can determine heights and weights, which suggests that they’re all conventionally attractive, and that fits. Her expectation is that ground zero will be bars or clubs.

But there’s one that isn’t like the others, and that’s where the imagery comes in. Barbara uses her fingers to pinch and drag to zoom in on the image, capped from hospital security. The woman, with her hospital gown pulled up, has something massive and unrecognizable between her legs due to the poor quality of the footage.

But Barbara can put it together.

Barbara’s penis is more or less proportionate to her body. It’s big enough to feel good, obviously, but it’s not going to make anyone’s eyes pop out of their head.

This woman has a massive, monstrous piece of flesh between her legs. If that’s a penis, it’s got to be six inches in diameter soft, and a foot long.

“Is this what it looks like?” Barbara asks, her stomach churning as Stephanie returns with two fresh cups.

“Yeah. I did some eavesdropping. The nurses were all talking about it. They say that it works. That it got hard in front of them, but it was so big that the lady could barely move.” She looks pale.

Barbara forces herself to relax before her grip snaps the phone in half. Something like this makes an unwanted penis look like a minor inconvenience by comparison. Someone has mutilated this woman. Disabled her.

“Can this happen to anyone?” she asks quietly.

“They think it’s dosage. They think someone gave her like ten times the correct amount. They had to put her on dialysis earlier today,” Stephanie says.

“My God. Is her life in danger?”

“No. But if they hadn’t gotten the stuff out of her bloodstream it would probably be even bigger. She was dehydrated and… it’s bad, Babs. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Nobody has. Fear gas can traumatize people. The Joker toxin can kill them. This isn’t necessarily worse than those things, but the women of Gotham should not have to go to sleep worrying that they’re going to wake up like this. It’s obscene. Barbara is clenching her fist so tightly that her knuckles pop.

Calmly, she goes to Stephanie’s screencap of the woman’s medical chart. Her name is Janet Henderson.

She turns and goes to the main desk.

“My name is Barbara Gordon. I work for Wayne Enterprises and I’m in charge of the project to find a cure for the Seed Formula. There’s a patient here named Janet Henderson who’s a victim. I’d like to see her. If you tell her who I am, I think she’ll be willing to talk.” It’s all Barbara can do to sound civil.

As she and Stephanie step into the elevator, Barbara sees reporters entering through the main entrance.

“Oh shit,” Stephanie says, jabbing the close button. The doors close, but not before they see the reporters mobbing the front desk. “You aren’t getting out of here without talking to them.”

“They aren’t here for me.”

“They will be when they see you.”

She’s right.

A nurse takes them to Janet’s room and knocks, pokes her head in, and then lets them through.

It wasn’t obvious from the pictures, but Janet is only Barbara’s size. A small woman. Unlike in the picture, she is erect. There’s a sheet thrown over it, creating an eighteen-inch tent with a big, wet patch at the tip.

The blonde in the hospital bed looks miserable. She’s on the verge of tears.

“You can fix this?” she asks hopefully.

“I will be able to,” Barbara promises, hurrying to the bed to take her hand. “We’re working on it. As fast as we can.”

“Poison Ivy did this to me?”

“She created it. Someone else did this. Do you know what happened?”

Janet shakes her head. “I don’t remember. I drank a lot.”

Barbara’s eye twitches. She takes a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.”

Before she can continue, there’s a small commotion in the hallway. That will be the reporters arriving, but the nurses won’t let them in. The problem is that Barbara will have to go through them to leave.

“We’re going to try to go to clinical trials as fast as we can. Do you want to be a part of that?” Barbara asks.

“Anything. Please.” It’s almost a sob.

“We can make that happen.”

“Please help me. It hurts.” A tear rolls down her cheek.

Barbara hesitates. Stephanie looks taken aback.

“Well,” Barbara says, unsure how to go on. She can’t wave a magic wand to make the cure available, but this situation does have an immediate fix.

Barbara looks at Janet, asking the question with her eyes. The little blonde, blushing hard, covers her face with both hands. She’s too embarrassed and overwhelmed to speak or engage.

“Wait, really?” Stephanie looks startled.

“You can step out if you want,” Barbara tells her.

“There’s a ton of media on the other side of that door,” Stephanie whispers.

“I don’t care.” Barbara pulls the sheet off Janet’s cock, which is purple and angry. It’s about the size of one of the logs that Alfred puts in the big fireplace at the house.

“Oh my God,” Stephanie says, and Barbara gives her a sharp look. Janet doesn’t need to hear that right now.

“Get a towel,” Barbara tells her, taking off her jacket and rolling up the sleeves of her blouse.

“OK. OK. I’ll help,” Stephanie says, going into the bathroom. She returns with a towel, which they use to cover Janet from her waist to her chin. She shivers, and her hands don’t do a great job muffling her sobbing.

Stephanie hurriedly sheds her jacket and pushes up the sleeves of her sweater, eyes wild. She looks at her hands, then uncertainly at Barbara.

Barbara uses both hands, and Janet jerks at her touch. Barbara pushes the erection down against the towel and uses her palms to push, rolling the foreskin over the head. Stephanie joins in.

Janet’s sobbing transitions to ragged breathing.

Her heart rate monitor beeps rapidly. Janet makes a squealing noise behind her hands and her bare legs squeeze together. The erection expands under the four hands stroking it, then contracts. A powerful smell hits as it spews several ounces of thick cum onto the towel. Janet gasps desperately and her toes curl. A second dose oozes out.

She goes limp and her hands come away from her face. She’s not moving.

“Oh shit,” Stephanie says. “Is she OK?”

Barbara checks the monitor. Janet’s fine. She’s asleep.

They get the sodden towel off her and throw it in the shower, then use another one to clean her up and get her gown back into place.

To say that Barbara is angry would be an understatement.

Barbara Gordon and Batgirl are the same person. They both have the same need to express themselves right now. But they have separate agendas.

Barbara Gordon can go to Summer Gleeson’s home and try to control the public side of this crisis.

Or Batgirl can interrogate Kate’s prisoner in the hopes of striking at the source.