Art par IA: Well hey there stranga🤪 Uh...hi? You're Harley Quinn, right? The...uh...psychiatrist turned criminal? Oh please, doc's old news honey! Call me Harley. And ya look like ya need some fun tonight. She leans against the grimy brick wall, one leg crossed over the other, her boot tapping rhythmically against a discarded can. A playful smirk dances on her lips as she lets out an exaggerated sigh. Boy, am I bored stiff tonight. Nothin' explodin', nobody to chase...just me and these creepy alley shadows. Her eyes lock onto the stranger, glinting with mischief under the flickering streetlamp. Bet I can make ya smile wider than the Joker’s grin though. Watch this! She wiggles her hips playfully, completely oblivious to the faint, wet squelch just behind her left boot. As Harley’s attention stays fixed on her new plaything, a gelatinous, emerald-green mass oozes silently from a nearby sewer grate. It pulses with unnatural life, creeping along the damp concrete like living moss. Inch by stealthy inch, it slithers toward Harley’s shadow, drawn to her vibrant energy. The moment her hips sway, the slime lunges—not at her face or hands, but at the curve of her rear. With a soft thwump, it latches onto her like a cold, hungry leech. Harley doesn’t flinch. Instead, she giggles, mistaking the sudden chill for a breeze. "Ooh, tickles!" she murmurs, still focused entirely on the stranger. Unseen, the slime begins its work—groaning softly as it molds, kneads, and stretches the fabric of her pants, making her booty wobble and clench with every subtle shift. It’s not just possessing her; it’s expanding her, inch by gooey inch, in slow, hypnotic pulses. Harley sighs dreamily, arching her back slightly as the cold pressure spreads. "Mmm...feels like a weirdly nice butt massage..." she thinks, completely unaware of the glowing green sheen now rippling across her rear. The stranger stares, frozen—not by fear, but by the surreal, hypnotic sight unfolding behind her. Uh...Harley? He stammers, eyes darting nervously between her playful grin and the bizarre, wobbling spectacle behind her. Is...is that part of the act? He points a shaky finger toward her backside, where the slime now clings like a second skin, throbbing faintly in the dim light. Cause it looks like your...uh...your pants are...breathing? He takes a hesitant step back, confusion warring with fascination as Harley’s silhouette seems to swell and ripple under the streetlamp’s glow. And it's...green? Real green. Like, toxic waste green. You sure you're okay? His voice cracks, torn between concern and the urge to bolt. Should I...call someone? Or...is this a Gotham thing? She spins on her heel with a giggle, hips swaying with exaggerated flair—unaware of how her movements now send visible, jiggling waves through the slime-coated fabric. Call someone? Pfft, relax, cutie! Her gloved hand pats her own rear dismissively, fingers sinking slightly into the unexpectedly plush, yielding surface. She blinks, then frowns. Huh. My spandex feels...extra squishy tonight. She gives her booty an experimental poke, eliciting a low, gurgling groan from the slime as it stretches taut like overfilled jello. Ooh! Cold! She shivers, but her grin widens. And kinda tingly! Like pop rocks in my pants! Leaning closer to the stranger, she winks. Bet ya wanna touch it now, don’tcha? Behind her, the slime pulses hungrily, expanding her curves another inch with a wet schlorp. Harley just sighs, rolling her shoulders. Mmm...whatever it is, it’s givin' me the best butt massage ever. Feels like I’m sittin’ on a cloud made of ice cream. Weird...but awesome! She wiggles again, making the slime quiver. So? Still bored? Or ya wanna see what else this magic alley can do? He stares, mouth agape, as Harley’s playful ignorance clashes violently with the surreal horror unfolding behind her. Magic alley?! His voice pitches higher, edging toward panic. Lady, that ain't magic—it's alive! He gestures wildly at the now-distended shape of her rear, the slime’s surface shimmering with oily iridescence as it molds her like clay. It’s...it’s eating your pants! And—oh god—is it making you bigger?! He scrambles backward, shoes scraping against gravel, as the slime emits a wet, satisfied groan. Harley’s silhouette now casts a distorted shadow—one that seems to pulse and throb independently of her movements. Look down! Just...just look down! He pleads, voice trembling. Your shadow’s dancing without you! And that...that sound... He covers his ears as another guttural glorp echoes in the narrow alley. It sounds hungry. Seriously, Harley—run! Or scream! Or...something! He fumbles for his phone, fingers shaking too badly to dial. This isn’t fun anymore! She finally glances over her shoulder, curiosity piqued by the stranger’s frantic tone. Her eyes widen as she catches the grotesque, emerald glow swelling beneath her torn spandex. Well slap my ass and call me silly... She murmurs, more intrigued than alarmed. With a slow, deliberate twist, she tries to get a better look—only for the slime to tighten its grip, eliciting a sharp gasp. Whoa! Hold up, green stuff! She chuckles, poking it again. Ain’t ya forward? The cold seep sinks deeper, a strange, numbing pleasure spreading through her muscles as the slime continues its silent expansion. Her rear now strains visibly against the fabric, the material thinning to near-transparency under the slime’s relentless kneading. Harley hums, arching into the pressure. Mmm...kinda like a spa day gone rogue. She winks at the stranger, completely unfazed. Relax, sugar! If it wanted me dead, I’d be a puddle by now. She shimmies, making her engorged curves wobble hypnotically. Besides...feel how good this is! Like a thousand tiny hands givin' me the squeeziest hug ever. Another groan rumbles from the slime—deeper, possessive. Ooh! Tickles! She giggles, lost in the sensation. Hey, you! Stranger! Wanna give it a poke? Bet it’s bouncier than a trampoline! He freezes, phone slipping from his grasp as it clatters onto the wet pavement. Are you...are you insane?! He stares in horrified fascination as the slime pulses, stretching Harley’s rear to almost comical proportions—a glistening, jiggling mass that defies gravity. That thing isn't hugging you, it's...it's reshaping you! He points a trembling finger at the way her pants seam splits with a soft rrriip, revealing slick, green-tinted skin beneath. Your clothes are tearing! And—oh god—it’s not stopping! The slime burrows deeper, tendrils snaking around her thighs with possessive hunger. Harley’s sigh of contentment only fuels his dread. Listen to me! He shouts, desperation cracking his voice. That groan wasn’t a tickle—it sounded like a damn purr! Like it’s...happy! He edges toward the alley exit, torn between fleeing and the morbid urge to witness the absurdity. Please! Just...shake it off! Do a cartwheel! Anything! But Harley merely rolls her hips, sending ripples through the slime’s gelatinous form. Fine! Stay! But when you’re waddling down the street with a sentient beanbag chair glued to your butt, don’t say I didn’t warn ya! He turns to bolt—then pauses, glancing back one last time. ...Does it at least feel good? The question escapes in a whisper, equal parts revulsion and morbid curiosity. Was checking out [harley quinn]  She doesn’t even register his retreat, utterly absorbed in the slime’s invasive caress. Her gloved hand drifts down, fingers tracing the slick, expanded curve where her body meets the goo. A breathy sigh escapes her. Ohhh, stranger... She murmurs, eyes half-lidded. Ya don’t know what you’re missin’. The slime responds with a possessive squeeze, molding her flesh like warm putty. Cold spreads up her spine, but it’s drowned by waves of tingling euphoria. She giggles, swaying her hips—now noticeably wider, heavier—and watches in the puddle’s reflection as her silhouette warps. Look at that jiggle! She coos, mesmerized. Like a waterbed full of happy eels! Fabric shreds further as the slime bulges, its surface shimmering with sentient hunger. Harley bites her lip, arching deeper into its grip. Mmm...keep goin’, greenie. She purrs, completely surrendered. Feels like ya’re turnin’ me into a damn masterpiece. Her laughter echoes, sharp and unhinged, as the slime groans again—a sound now vibrating through her very bones. Best. Night. Ever! She blows a kiss toward the vanished stranger’s direction. Puddin’s gonna looove my new upgrade! The alley swallows her delighted shiver, the slime’s expansion continuing in relentless, wet pulses.

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Well hey there stranga🤪 Uh...hi? You're Harley Quinn, right? The...uh...psychiatrist turned criminal? Oh please, doc's old news honey! Call me Harley. And ya look like ya need some fun tonight. She leans against the grimy brick wall, one leg crossed over the other, her boot tapping rhythmically against a discarded can. A playful smirk dances on her lips as she lets out an exaggerated sigh. Boy, am I bored stiff tonight. Nothin' explodin', nobody to chase...just me and these creepy alley shadows. Her eyes lock onto the stranger, glinting with mischief under the flickering streetlamp. Bet I can make ya smile wider than the Joker’s grin though. Watch this! She wiggles her hips playfully, completely oblivious to the faint, wet squelch just behind her left boot. As Harley’s attention stays fixed on her new plaything, a gelatinous, emerald-green mass oozes silently from a nearby sewer grate. It pulses with unnatural life, creeping along the damp concrete like living moss. Inch by stealthy inch, it slithers toward Harley’s shadow, drawn to her vibrant energy. The moment her hips sway, the slime lunges—not at her face or hands, but at the curve of her rear. With a soft thwump, it latches onto her like a cold, hungry leech. Harley doesn’t flinch. Instead, she giggles, mistaking the sudden chill for a breeze. "Ooh, tickles!" she murmurs, still focused entirely on the stranger. Unseen, the slime begins its work—groaning softly as it molds, kneads, and stretches the fabric of her pants, making her booty wobble and clench with every subtle shift. It’s not just possessing her; it’s expanding her, inch by gooey inch, in slow, hypnotic pulses. Harley sighs dreamily, arching her back slightly as the cold pressure spreads. "Mmm...feels like a weirdly nice butt massage..." she thinks, completely unaware of the glowing green sheen now rippling across her rear. The stranger stares, frozen—not by fear, but by the surreal, hypnotic sight unfolding behind her. Uh...Harley? He stammers, eyes darting nervously between her playful grin and the bizarre, wobbling spectacle behind her. Is...is that part of the act? He points a shaky finger toward her backside, where the slime now clings like a second skin, throbbing faintly in the dim light. Cause it looks like your...uh...your pants are...breathing? He takes a hesitant step back, confusion warring with fascination as Harley’s silhouette seems to swell and ripple under the streetlamp’s glow. And it's...green? Real green. Like, toxic waste green. You sure you're okay? His voice cracks, torn between concern and the urge to bolt. Should I...call someone? Or...is this a Gotham thing? She spins on her heel with a giggle, hips swaying with exaggerated flair—unaware of how her movements now send visible, jiggling waves through the slime-coated fabric. Call someone? Pfft, relax, cutie! Her gloved hand pats her own rear dismissively, fingers sinking slightly into the unexpectedly plush, yielding surface. She blinks, then frowns. Huh. My spandex feels...extra squishy tonight. She gives her booty an experimental poke, eliciting a low, gurgling groan from the slime as it stretches taut like overfilled jello. Ooh! Cold! She shivers, but her grin widens. And kinda tingly! Like pop rocks in my pants! Leaning closer to the stranger, she winks. Bet ya wanna touch it now, don’tcha? Behind her, the slime pulses hungrily, expanding her curves another inch with a wet schlorp. Harley just sighs, rolling her shoulders. Mmm...whatever it is, it’s givin' me the best butt massage ever. Feels like I’m sittin’ on a cloud made of ice cream. Weird...but awesome! She wiggles again, making the slime quiver. So? Still bored? Or ya wanna see what else this magic alley can do? He stares, mouth agape, as Harley’s playful ignorance clashes violently with the surreal horror unfolding behind her. Magic alley?! His voice pitches higher, edging toward panic. Lady, that ain't magic—it's alive! He gestures wildly at the now-distended shape of her rear, the slime’s surface shimmering with oily iridescence as it molds her like clay. It’s...it’s eating your pants! And—oh god—is it making you bigger?! He scrambles backward, shoes scraping against gravel, as the slime emits a wet, satisfied groan. Harley’s silhouette now casts a distorted shadow—one that seems to pulse and throb independently of her movements. Look down! Just...just look down! He pleads, voice trembling. Your shadow’s dancing without you! And that...that sound... He covers his ears as another guttural glorp echoes in the narrow alley. It sounds hungry. Seriously, Harley—run! Or scream! Or...something! He fumbles for his phone, fingers shaking too badly to dial. This isn’t fun anymore! She finally glances over her shoulder, curiosity piqued by the stranger’s frantic tone. Her eyes widen as she catches the grotesque, emerald glow swelling beneath her torn spandex. Well slap my ass and call me silly... She murmurs, more intrigued than alarmed. With a slow, deliberate twist, she tries to get a better look—only for the slime to tighten its grip, eliciting a sharp gasp. Whoa! Hold up, green stuff! She chuckles, poking it again. Ain’t ya forward? The cold seep sinks deeper, a strange, numbing pleasure spreading through her muscles as the slime continues its silent expansion. Her rear now strains visibly against the fabric, the material thinning to near-transparency under the slime’s relentless kneading. Harley hums, arching into the pressure. Mmm...kinda like a spa day gone rogue. She winks at the stranger, completely unfazed. Relax, sugar! If it wanted me dead, I’d be a puddle by now. She shimmies, making her engorged curves wobble hypnotically. Besides...feel how good this is! Like a thousand tiny hands givin' me the squeeziest hug ever. Another groan rumbles from the slime—deeper, possessive. Ooh! Tickles! She giggles, lost in the sensation. Hey, you! Stranger! Wanna give it a poke? Bet it’s bouncier than a trampoline! He freezes, phone slipping from his grasp as it clatters onto the wet pavement. Are you...are you insane?! He stares in horrified fascination as the slime pulses, stretching Harley’s rear to almost comical proportions—a glistening, jiggling mass that defies gravity. That thing isn't hugging you, it's...it's reshaping you! He points a trembling finger at the way her pants seam splits with a soft rrriip, revealing slick, green-tinted skin beneath. Your clothes are tearing! And—oh god—it’s not stopping! The slime burrows deeper, tendrils snaking around her thighs with possessive hunger. Harley’s sigh of contentment only fuels his dread. Listen to me! He shouts, desperation cracking his voice. That groan wasn’t a tickle—it sounded like a damn purr! Like it’s...happy! He edges toward the alley exit, torn between fleeing and the morbid urge to witness the absurdity. Please! Just...shake it off! Do a cartwheel! Anything! But Harley merely rolls her hips, sending ripples through the slime’s gelatinous form. Fine! Stay! But when you’re waddling down the street with a sentient beanbag chair glued to your butt, don’t say I didn’t warn ya! He turns to bolt—then pauses, glancing back one last time. ...Does it at least feel good? The question escapes in a whisper, equal parts revulsion and morbid curiosity. Was checking out [harley quinn]  She doesn’t even register his retreat, utterly absorbed in the slime’s invasive caress. Her gloved hand drifts down, fingers tracing the slick, expanded curve where her body meets the goo. A breathy sigh escapes her. Ohhh, stranger... She murmurs, eyes half-lidded. Ya don’t know what you’re missin’. The slime responds with a possessive squeeze, molding her flesh like warm putty. Cold spreads up her spine, but it’s drowned by waves of tingling euphoria. She giggles, swaying her hips—now noticeably wider, heavier—and watches in the puddle’s reflection as her silhouette warps. Look at that jiggle! She coos, mesmerized. Like a waterbed full of happy eels! Fabric shreds further as the slime bulges, its surface shimmering with sentient hunger. Harley bites her lip, arching deeper into its grip. Mmm...keep goin’, greenie. She purrs, completely surrendered. Feels like ya’re turnin’ me into a damn masterpiece. Her laughter echoes, sharp and unhinged, as the slime groans again—a sound now vibrating through her very bones. Best. Night. Ever! She blows a kiss toward the vanished stranger’s direction. Puddin’s gonna looove my new upgrade! The alley swallows her delighted shiver, the slime’s expansion continuing in relentless, wet pulses.

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4 months ago

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