"It's over hatter" growled Bruce, cornering the little man. Batman had tracked the Hatter down to the Doughboy Donut Packing factory in Gotham industrial district, and after solving his ever increasingly annoying rhymes and games, the Bat had him on the fence or so he thought.
"Make this easy for yourself" said the Bat sternly, lifting the Hatter off his feet and holding him againt the wall.
"Oh such fun, you following me, here there and back. But the night is young, and theres much to do, so as a reward, a special.... bat snack"
"What?" Scowled Batman. But before he could ask, the Hatter forced somehting into his mouth, and while Bruce coughed in a cloud of powdered suger, he started to feel dizzy. The sweet suger shimering in the air like noxious gas fumes. The Batman fell to his knees, coughing violently.
"Wha... what did you do!"
"Just a taste, a sweet one too, now whatever I say, you will do!" sung the Hatter.
"Cough*... Never!"
"You see this little treat, will make you want eat, and the more you do, the more it feels so right, so good, so new. And thanks to my little sweetie, you'll soon be bigger then both tweedle dum and dee. So my dear Bat, you will love getting fat, yes, so much fatter. And its all thanks to me, your dear friend Hatter"
Batman tried to force himself to his feet, but he fell into a stack of boxes, the Hatter gleefully laughting as he walked away. Batman wanted to chase, but he was filled with the overwhelming urge to eat. He grabed the donuts and began stuffing them into his mouth, one after the other.
"more *gulp* I need... *chew* I need more"
Batman reawoke at daybreak. Groggily he sat up. His entire body hurt, as he looked around to see a dozen or so empty boxes, each one once holding a dozen or so doughnuts. He then looked down to see the plating on his suit was warping out of position around his stomach, his suit uncomfortablly tight around the middle.
Fearing that there was some truth to what the Hatter had said, he quickly did a scan for any irregularly in his phisiolagy. Sure enough, his body had accumulated 30 pounds of fat overnight.
'Damn' thought the bat. He programed the suits plating to expand as much as it could to relieve some of the preasure, but even then it was still tight. And the worst part was hw was still hungry. Heading back to the Batmobile, Bruce wobbled as his center of gravity had altered. He needed to solve this fast, but a rumble from his newly aquired gut gave a strong counter argument.
"Okay... find something to eat. Then fix this"
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