DC : Crisis of infinite hunger : Chapter 17 (Patreon)

Arc 2 : Chapter 3: The Weight of the Bat

Gotham doesn’t sleep. Not really. It shifts, breathes, groans. It swells with crime, pulses with chaos. But lately… something else is happening. Something slower. Quieter.

The shadows are still here, but they’re softer. Sluggish. The chase has dulled. The predators have grown round.

And I—

Batman paused, the cold wind brushing against the stretched fabric of his cowl.

I’m adapting. Adjusting to new variables. Staying ahead of the curve.

A heavier breath followed.

Even if the curve has widened.

From above, Gotham still looked familiar—steel towers, restless lights, steam coiling from alley grates like the city exhaling. But closer to the streets, the change was impossible to ignore.

Gotham was bigger.

Wrappers crowded gutters. Delivery drones stitched the skyline, nearly all bearing the same red-and-yellow logo. Big Belly Burger wasn’t just popular—it was structural. Entire corners were fenced off beneath bright COMING SOON banners. Billboards promised comfort in excess. Transit ads whispered more, bigger, satisfying.

The city had developed an appetite.

And so had its guardian.

Batman stood on the rooftop, occupying space rather than looming. His spandex Batsuit was stretched thin over a massive body—fabric pulled taut across a drooping chest, the bat emblem warped over soft mass. His belly hung low and wide, folding over his belt in thick rolls that nearly brushed his enormous thighs. Every subtle shift tugged the suit tighter.

Temporary, he told himself.

City-wide variables.

Operational.

He reached into the greasy paper bag. The smell hit hard—salt, heat, fat. He took a bite—

“Well… isn’t this a surprise.”

He froze.

Catwoman stepped into the moonlight, posture easy, balance perfect. Her goggles reflected the city lights as her eyes traced him slowly, head to toe, lingering.

Not mocking.

Appreciating.

“Ivy said you’d changed,” Selina said lightly. “I figured she meant your schedule.”

Her gaze dipped—unapologetic.

“Guess she meant the whole package.”

“Leave,” Bruce said, flat and controlled, though his jaw tightened.

She smiled, slow and knowing. “You didn’t say I was wrong.”

She circled him, heels clicking softly. “So how does this happen?” she mused. “Did you decide to let yourself go… or was it on accident?”

A beat. Her eyes flicked to his chest as it rose and fell.

“Mmm. You’re breathing heavier too. Don't tell me it's you’re pleased to see me, big boy?”

“Air quality’s worse,” Bruce retorted, stubborn. “Urban density.”

“And the suit?” she asked, amused. “That a zoning issue too?”

He tried to straighten. The movement sent a visible ripple through his body—belly wobbling, thighs grinding together. He widened his stance, spandex stretching audibly.

Selina stepped closer and placed one gloved hand on his chest.

The contact was brief.

Immediate.

Warmth surged through her palm, up her arm, and settled low in her abdomen—heavy, spreading. Her breath hitched. She shifted her weight unconsciously, hips rolling forward slightly as her suit tightened across her thighs.

She blinked.

“…Huh.”

Then she gave him a small shove.

Flump.

Batman dropped onto the ledge, belly spilling outward, thighs spreading, fabric pulling tight as his weight settled. The rooftop trembled faintly.

Before he could respond, Selina leaned in and plucked a burger straight from the bag, already unwrapping it as she straightened.

“Mmm,” she murmured. “You really have been busy.”

Bruce scowled and forced himself upright again—slow, obvious, breathing heavy. He stood just as she took a bite.

“Put that down.”

She didn’t.

Bruce swore under his breath and stepped forward, catching her by the shoulder.

“Don’t.”

She turned back toward him, amused.

“Oh?” she said. “You’re territorial now?”

Before he could answer, she lifted her free hand and squeezed his cheeks, pressing them together, stretching the cowl. His face puffed.

“There it is,” she murmured. “That scowl. Cute.”

Bruce’s grip loosened. He looked away for half a second—flustered, irritated.

“Enough, Selina.”

She took another bite, eyes half-lidding. “Mmm. Wow.”

As she chewed, her stomach pushed forward another fraction. Her thighs brushed together. The zipper of her suit sat tighter now—unmistakably so.

She leaned in again, her fuller hip pressing against his hanging belly.

“Relax,” she said softly. “You’ve had plenty.”

Her free hand slid beneath the overhang of his gut and pulled the entire bag free, wrappers rustling.

She chewed thoughtfully, then stepped back.

Only then did Bruce look down.

The bag was gone.

All of it.

His stomach growled—deep, hollow.

Selina noticed his expression and laughed, already backing toward the edge.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she said. “You’ll get more.”

She held up the bag and winked.

“Don’t follow,” she added. “Wouldn’t want you to tire yourself out.”

Then she vanished into the night.

Batman stood alone, breathing hard, spandex stretched to its limits.

He opened the comm. “Alfred.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Send the Batmobile. Rooftop pickup. And order Big Belly Burger—extra. I want it ready when I get back to the Cave.”

“Of course. I’ll need to place a rather large order. Master Dick has already exhausted most of the pantry.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Define ‘exhausted.’”

“I’ve restocked baking supplies thrice this week,” Alfred replied dryly. “And I must confess, sir, I wasn’t previously aware a young man’s rear could grow quite so… expansively.”

“Alfred.”

“Yes?”

“Just make sure the food’s ready. Send the Batmobile.”

“…As you wish, sir.”

The channel closed.

Far below, an engine roared.

Batman adjusted his stance and waited.

The city pulsed.

The hunger lingered.

The night pressed in.

And things were only just beginning to unravel...