Play along

Damian scowled in discomfort as her breasts and legs continued to push against the costume to the point, she was almost shocked the material had not burst yet. Some more time passed, and it was beginning to become unbearable, she couldn’t form an escape plan or even wait for her father to arrive like this.

“Hey! Computer!” she yelled, only to be met with silence other than the still playing music. She banged against the glass and yelled again, only to be reduced to a coughing fit as another round of gas was poured in.

“Miss Isley-Kyle, I must remind you again to remain quiet and compliant until Batman returns.”

“I…” she coughed again. “I just wanted to get an outfit that actually fits if I’m going to be stuck in here.”

“Negative. Why would your clothing not fit you?”

“Why don’t you scan me and find out?” she snarled, cursing herself for even faintly hoping that computer would make anything easy. To her surprise, this time it at last listened to her.

“Scanning. Scanning. Miss Isley-Kyle, have you put on weight?”

“What? No!”

Well technically yes, but she wasn’t about to agree with the needlessly rude AI if she could help it. She glared at the stupid computer, the act coming off as much less intimidating with her current facial features then she would’ve liked.

“Just… ugh… get me something which fits.”

“Affirmative. I apologize for delivering incorrect apparel. Performing scan for most accurately sized apparel in storage.”

Several items of clothing were shot into the holding cell. First a Gotham University hoodie, likely belonging to Barbara. Next was a black skirt and heeled boots, both of which could belong to any woman who happened to spend enough time around the Batcave or manor to leave their things lying around. There was also all the appropriate underwear, but Damian strove to think as least about that portion of the outfit as possible, if only to maintain what little dignity she had left.

“That feels… less restricted at least…” she muttered as she changed, although she wished she did not need to wear a skirt or heels. Suddenly, her body felt strange once more.

A hypothesis quickly formed in her mind. If her latest physical transformation was caused by some interaction between the gas, Poison Ivy’s DNA and the DNA strains of Catwoman left in her suit, then this new ensemble she wore meant she had just contaminated herself with DNA from possibly several distinct origins.

With her new theory in mind, she paid close attention to the latest changes. Her face was shifting even more dramatically, remaining tanned yet turning youthful and soft compared to its earlier more mature look, and rapidly became less and less recognizable to anyone Damian knew. A small but noticeable amount of fat drained from her legs and breasts, leaving her still well-endowed yet not as unrealistically so. Much of what remained of her muscles also began to dissolve, as if being pushed out to make room for the possibly dozens of new genetic traits being implanted onto her. It left her feeling much weaker and more petite, the physical prowess from both Catwoman and Poison Ivy melting away in an instant to leave a figure more akin to an untrained civilian. While her body shrunk slightly and gained less **** proportions, possibly settling into a compromise between competing genetic sources. Her maroon hair darken to raven black and grew curlier and longer before gaining a mixture of blonde and red streaks, which soon fused into orange highlights which covered the lower portion of her hair while the upper parts remained black. Her new clothing at least still fit perfectly though, being loose and flexible enough to fit multiple figures.

“Miss -IzzzZZZzzzT- -ERROR- are you alright? Do you require medical assistance?”

“I… Ugh…” her voice cracked and softened along with her outside figures, sounding less breathy or sultry. Her body’s changes slowed to a halt as her new form settled into place. She blinked as her vision blurred, with a frown she wondered if she was contaminated with the DNA of someone with sight impairment, or perhaps this was merely the unintentional side effect of too much biological modification in such a short period. She hoped she would not need corrective surgery along with all the other fixes she’ll have to go through once she is worked out.

“I can’t see.”

“Acknowledged. Scanning. Vision impairment level noted; issuing appropriate eyewear.”

Glasses popped out of the chute and Damian reluctantly put them on. Looking at herself again, she was almost taken aback by now unrecognizable she was. Her face, now looking no older than a woman of early twenties, was smooth and covered by a thin layer of freckles.

“Will that be all Miss -IzzZZzt-“

She glanced in the direction of the computer.

“Wait, do you not recognize me as anyone now?”

“Negative you are Miss -IZZzzzZt-. Error detected. It appears your face and voice do not match any profile on the security database to a degree of at least 50% accuracy. Please identify yourself and occupation immediately, as well as the reason for your intrusion.”

She scowled in annoyance. Oh, so now it wants to actually confirm her identity. She almost insisted she was Damian Wayne once again before catching herself. The computer was glitching, that was obvious, and trying to tell the truth was clearly a fool’s errand.

Hm, she may not look like Damian Wayne but she also did not look like any criminal or supervillain. In fact with her current outfit, she looked like a normal college student. A plan formed in her mind, one which would hopefully get her free or at least not cause Batman to immediately assume she’s a supervillain up to some trick.

“My name is… Amelia Kelesy-Ives…” She used an altered form of the name Pamelina Isley-Kyle, it being the freshest female name on her mind. As she thought of an answer for the second query, her gaze settled on the hoodie she wore.

“I am a student at Gotham University and was uh… taking a walk and took a wrong turn down this weird tunnel and then woke up in here.”

“Registering new profile: Amelia Kelesy-Ives. Miss Kelesy-Ives, please answer the following questions for the record.”

The Batcomputer fired off personal inquiries at a rapid pace, with Damian just barely keeping up due to having to make up things as she went. Date of birth, social security, place of residence, university dorm room number, her degree, her exact reasons for being out at this hour.

“Miss Kelesy-Ives, did you bring identification to confirm your identity?”

_“I did!” _she said quickly, before mentally scolding herself.

“It was uh… in my handbag. I must have dropped it..” She hoped it would buy that.

“Affirmative. Searching for confiscated items in storage. -izZZzZZt- items not found -error- searching. Correcting system manifest.”

It seemed the malfunctions were becoming more evident with the new influx of information she’d just given it, she hoped that was good for her. After several minutes of silence, a handbag was sent into the holding cell. She blinked in confusion as she looked inside to find a driver’s license and a Gotham University I.D. All belonging to her, or rather; Amelia Kelesy-Ives.

Was the Batcomputer so **** to correct its errors that it used the Batcave’s resources to forge these documents?

“Well,” she swallowed, unsure if this would actually work.

“Here’s my I.D.”

“-IzzZZzzzZzzZzzZt-“

The computer crackled and beeped for several moments before seemingly rebooting.

“Scanning. Scanning. Identity confirmed; Miss Amelia Kelesy-Ives, first year student at Gotham University, age twenty.”

“Yes, yes.” With the possibility of escape so close, she was getting impatient.

“Now, will you let me out?”

The computer was silent, and Damian waited to see how it would respond. Would it really be that easy?