Girls Night Out II

by Nomdreserv and the Dark Oni

Part 5

Closer to the Gotham Hotel, another car passenger rode in unhappy silence. Montoya
drove, while Supergirl rode in the back, still wide eyed and sucking her thumb, and still
holding onto her special “dolly” with her other hand. The dolly was not happy.

Of course, they were lucky to have gotten this far. Batgirl had been determined to avoid
letting Bullock see her like this, and her pleading had finally convinced Montoya to
bypass official procedures. The police officer had gathered up the uniforms and
discarded staff, then made to leave the room.

“Hey, Montoya,” Bullock had growled. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Figured I’d get the girl back to her mother,” Montoya answered smoothly. “Says she got
lost while playing on the elevator, but they’re staying here at the hotel. I’ll check it out
downstairs.”

“Why are you taking those things with you?”

“Oh, um, I had a hunch about something. Thought I’d check it out at the same time.”

“A hunch, huh?” He immediately became suspicious. “OK, Montoya. What are you
holding out on me? Let me see that staff.”

Montoya had noticed Supergirl was becoming extremely restless the last few minutes, and
was now squirming in her hands. She also thought she recognized the intense, distracted
expression on the baby Supergirl’s face. It was a rotten trick, but …

“Sure, Harvey. Here, hold the kid a second, will you?” She indicated that she needed
two hands to free the staff.

He reluctantly took the fidgeting child, not noticing her doll’s horrified expression. Also
unnoticed was Montoya’s rubbing the girl’s tummy as she handed her over, making the
baby’s expression screw up in distress.

“See,” Montoya held up the staff and clothes. “This looks just like the suspect’s staff,
and the girl says the woman showed special interest in these costumes.”

“Superheroes!” Bullock snorted in disgust. “Figures a nutcase like this witchie poo
would go for them. They’re all a bunch of psycho glory hounds.”

The girl in his arms stopped squirming long enough to glare at him angrily, then another,
panicky expression took over. She stopped squirming with an involuntary sigh.

“Anyway,” Montoya continued, stifling a grin as her plan’s success became obvious. “I
thought I’d run a … fashion analysis on the costumes, and … um …”

Luckily, before she had to confabulate further, Bullock noticed the growing wet spot on
his raincoat, and the soggy behind in his arms.

“Aw, for Chr…” he sputtered, holding the girl out at unhappy arm’s length. “Geez,
Montoya! The brat’s wet! What are you tryin’ to do, drown me? Here! Take her!”

Montoya did with an open smile, quickly bundling the rest of the items back with the
giggling girl.

“Now get out of here!” he ordered. “Fashion analysis! Of all the stupid …” He saw the
other officers, even the shrunken ones, smiling as well. “And what the hell are you
looking at?” he demanded.

“Don’t worry, Bullock,” one of them called. “With all the stains on your coat, no one
will notice.”

“Yeah, fashion analysis is one thing you’ll never know,” another offered.

Bullock launched his tirade as Montoya disappeared.

Now they had reached the relative safety of the squad car, but Montoya wasn’t sure what
they were supposed to be doing. She had removed Supergirl’s wet panties and dressed
her in her oversized shirt, though it would barely stay on the young toddler. Montoya
would have guessed she was about 18 months old from her size and limited vocabulary,
and was acting every bit the near infant she had become. The police woman decided their
first stop would be a convenience store for some diapers, and she had set the child into
the car wishing she had some towels to protect the seat from another accident. She also
felt professional guilt about not having a car seat, even if her passenger was a less
vulnerable “super” baby, a fact reinforced when she tried to put Batgirl in the front
passenger seat. The child’s grip was easily a match to her own, and they had been forced
to leave her in Supergirl’s hands after the tot had begun screaming when they went to
secure the diminutive crimefighter separately. Unwilling to risk a scene or Batgirl’s
health, they had relented, with Supergirl immediately settling in happily for the ride.
Fortunately for Barbara, Kara held her quite gently otherwise, and now began brushing
her hair attentively.

“So, now what?” Montoya asked, addressing her question to the eight inch woman being
cradled so closely.

“Good question,” Batgirl admitted, shouting to be heard. She looked at her young
companion reprovingly as she felt her hair being twisted into pigtails. “Neither of us is
exactly in position to go on the offensive.”

“We could run some tests on that staff at headquarters.”

“No offense,” Batgirl returned. “But not only would we be on every newscast by
evening, but it would take a week to get results. I know who I’d like to have look at it.”

“Speaking of,” Montoya put in. “Can we expect HIS help?”

“No,” Batgirl admitted. “Batman’s out of town. Special case. We could still use his
equipment...” She trailed off. “But I can’t exactly give you directions to drive there.”

There was an awkward pause, punctuated only by the baby Supergirl’s enthusiastic thumb
sucking. Batgirl was exasperated by her friend’s apparently untroubled and thorough
acceptance of her reduced condition. She dropped her voice so Montoya wouldn’t hear.

“Kara, would you PLEASE stop sucking your thumb?”

Supergirl pulled out the offending digit and regarded it and her friend thoughtfully.
Somehow, the sucking really made her feel better, but if Barbara didn’t want her to suck
her thumb...

Batgirl realized the meaning of Kara’s expression an instant before the baby lifted her
towards an open mouth.

“NO, Supergirl, wait. I umghpfj....”

Montoya waited for Batgirl to offer an alternative destination, finally breaking the long
silence. “So, headquarters after all? I know a couple of lab people who owe me favors.”

There was no answer. Montoya looked in the mirror and at first saw no sign of the
shrunken crimefighter. The blond haired baby continued to stare happily out the window
as she sucked something contentedly in her mouth. But a few more seconds brought the
realization that whatever she was sucking was attached to a pair of wildly kicking legs
clad in purple tights.

Montoya stopped the car with a screech.

“Supergirl! Take that doll ... uh, woman ... oh ... whatever! Get her out of your mouth
immediately!”

The startled baby did just that. Batgirl emerged into the open air soaked from the waist
up, gasping for breath, her upper costume askew, and her cowl almost off. Montoya
leaned over anxiously.

“Batgirl, are you all right?”

Batgirl pushed her slick, wet hair out of her face and recentered her cowl. Her sodden
costume stuck to her uncomfortably as she tried to pull it back down, but she appeared
unhurt, at least physically

“At least she doesn’t bite,” she managed, trying to pretend her usual calm.

Seeing she wasn’t hurt, Montoya could barely restrain a smile at the bedraggled
crimefighter’s appearance. She looked sternly into Supergirl’s eyes.

“Supergirl, you are never to put people in your mouth. Understand? You could have hurt
Batgirl.”

Supergirl nodded slowly. “Sowwy.” The thumb shot back in and drew several reassuring
sucks.

“I’m sowwy, er, sorry too, Batgirl,” Montoya apologized. “I didn’t realize ...”

“Never mind,” Batgirl waved it off. “The day just keeps getting better and better.” She
kept one wary eye on Kara.

Montoya restarted the car. “We still don’t have a destination.”

Batgirl still resisted. “Damn. There must be someone who knows about this magic stuff!
I wonder where Zatanna is these days?”

Montoya hesitated a few seconds. “Magic, huh? Look, not like I’m a true believer or
anything, and I’d never admit this ordinarily, but I did once find myself in this curio
shop...”


.........................................................................................................


Patricia heaved a sigh of relief as they pulled the minivan into the garage. She had a
splitting headache from the stress of almost losing Jenny at the hotel, and the
recriminations and arguments that followed. She just needed some quiet time to recover.

“Kids,” she announced while fumbling at the back door. She swiped emptily several
times while looking at the children emerging from the van, then finally turned long
enough to see that her hand was well below the knob level. Odd, turning it was usually
second nature. She reached up to open the door. “I’m going to go lie down, and I don’t
want any disturbances, OK?”

Jenny nodded vigorously. Courtney simply shrugged acceptingly. Amber still hung back
in the van as though worried about something, but also nodded.

“Good.” Patricia stumbled briefly on the step, then paused inside to check the answering
machine as the kids walked by. Courtney must have had another growth spurt Patricia
realized with surprise, noticing that her daughter was probably a bit taller than her now.
Something about Amber hurrying by also made her look twice - she didn’t look quite
right. Must be those baggy clothes she was wearing. She’d have to talk to Jim about
buying such oversized things. Leaving room to grow was fine, but this was ridiculous.
Her things were almost falling off.

She climbed the stairs, thinking she must be tired since they seemed taller and longer than
usual, entered her room, and slipped off her shoes (yes, all too easily). Her reflection in
the mirror caught her eye. She did look tired, like she was slumping in her clothes. And
speaking of too large sizes, her own things hung a little loosely. Watching those calories
at dinner must finally be paying off. At least a couple of inches, maybe more, she
decided, pulling at her loose waistband (and she was quite right, though in an unexpected
sense). More satisfied, she lay down on her bed and closed her eyes.

Jenny had run straight to her room and pulled out her collection of Barbies. She held
each up in turn now, sternly asking if it could talk, then shaking it a little when it didn’t
answer, and finally smacking it to see if it would move like Supergirl’s doll. As each was
discarded, still smiling in plastic serenity, she began to lose hope.

A timid Amber poked her head into the room.

“Um, Jenny, can I come in?”

Jenny nodded, and Amber walked in tugging at her dropping pants.

“So, everything you said back there was true, huh?”

“Told ya,” Jenny said triumphantly.

“Can you make me bigger again now?” Amber asked hopefully.

Jenny was taken aback.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, then shook her head decisively. “Don’t wanna anyway.”

“Please?” Amber begged, then considered a different tack. “I bet Mom will be mad
when she finds out.”

Jenny almost fell for it, then stiffened.

“Only if you tell her, and if you do I’ll make you this small.” She held up her finger and
thumb about an inch apart. Amber paled.

“No, please, I won’t tell,” she promised, neither realizing how silly the promise was now
given her near toddler size.

“OK,” Jenny accepted. “Wanna play?”

Eager to appease her new “big” sister, Amber sat down.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Trying to get my dolls to talk,” Jenny answered matter of factly. “Supergirl had a really
neat Barbie that walked and talked like a real girl.” She whacked another doll’s head on
the floor. “But mine won’t do nothing.”

Amber started changing the clothes of one of the discarded Barbies. “We can still play,
like, regular,” she offered.

“Yeah,” Jenny admitted. “But it’s more fun when they wiggle.” An idea came to her,
and she reached up to finger her medallion. “Hey, maybe we could make you like a
Barbie.” She held out a doll jacket appraisingly towards her sister.

Amber yiped and scrambled back while thinking desperately.

“N ... no, Jenny, please. I, um, I don’t look like Barbie.” She waved a hand at her
undeveloped, little-girl figure.

Jenny frowned, allowing the objection’s truth, then both girls looked up with the same
idea.

“Courtney!”


.........................................................................................................


Across town, a well-dressed, respectable looking gentleman looked up from the counter
of his small store as the door opened.

“Officer Montoya,” he called in greeting. “Good to see you again. I trust that potion you
purchased was satisfactory.”

Batgirl saw Montoya blush before murmuring, “It worked out fine, thank you.”

“I’m so glad. Would you care to introduce me to your young companions? Unlike my
competition, I don’t read everyone that steps through the door, but offhand,” his eyes
seemed to focus on Batgirl as though he knew she wasn’t really a doll in Supergirl’s
hands, “I’d say someone’s been having medallion problems.”

“What?” Batgirl squeaked, dropping her inanimate pretense. “How did he ...?”

Apparently unsurprised, the man continued. “It’s always medallions. They’ve become
stock in trade. Convenient but unimaginative. My name’s Rook, by the way. Are you
really Batgirl, or were those the only clothes available at doll size? And dare I assume
that means this young lady with the somewhat ill-fitting shirt is the famous Supergirl, an
apparent victim of the more esoteric age magic? I see you’ve put her diapers, implying
psychological as well as physical regression. Fascinating stuff, size and age
manipulations. The attempt to mix the magics is rather unusual, despite Gregor’s claims
to the contrary. Forgive my prattling, but I don’t often get superheroes in my
establishment, not with Dr. Fate and those other high profile practitioners. Quite a
pleasure. How may I help you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Montoya asked, setting Supergirl on the floor. Once again, the baby
insisted on holding onto her special doll, to Batgirl’s continued embarrassment. Her hair
was still wet and slicked down from her time as a human pacifier.

“In a way, yes,” he replied, unperturbed. “But I can’t help you there. Unless I have the
specific agent of change to study, trying to reverse the spell is far too dangerous. I don’t
suppose you can give me details as to who, how and why?”

Batgirl, between interruptions by the still playful Supergirl, related their story again.

“Lilandra, hmm?” he considered. “Don’t know her. The flashes and energy spheres are
unusual, and you say they had to actually hit you? Strange. Unsophisticated, even. Could
be other dimensional as you surmised. Most likely a low end practitioner.”

“Low end?” Batgirl piped incredulously, indicating the state of the two superheroines.
Whether it was from Supergirl’s sucking or her own indignation as she squared her
shoulders at his comment, she was suddenly aware of how tight her doll costume felt.

“Relatively speaking,” Rook allowed. “May I?” He indicated the staff, and Montoya
handed it over. “Hmm. Interesting. I believe this is a variation on ... yes, it’s a
Mnemonic Staff.”

“A what?” the two women chorused. Even Supergirl seemed interested and looked up
with wide, blue eyes. Batgirl tugged unconsciously at her shirt to close a gap that had
opened above her pants.

“A Mnemonic Staff, or something very like it. A beginner’s tool - like a magic wand
with training wheels. It can hold a large number of spells in memory, and is very easy to
use, but severely limits the power of each spell, not to mention the caster’s ... creativity.
And they’re exceedingly fragile. No experienced sorceress would use one.”

Batgirl had become distracted. Her clothes felt extremely tight, and her sleeves seemed
much shorter than before. Her cowl was binding her painfully, and her toes felt crushed
inside the boots.

“Yes, a novice,” Rook decided. “Needs props and spell foci, like the ring or medallion.
Obviously capable of dramatic effects, but limited in scope and almost certainly unstable
if used on more than one or two subjects.”

“Unstable?” Montoya asked. “What does that mean?”

A ripping sound interrupted them.

“I think I can answer that,” Batgirl offered, bare skin showing through a torn sleeve, and
as her costume appeared to be shrinking around her, threatening to show much more.


End Part 5

I know, a short chapter (told ya, real life is taking its toll), and now we’ve got shrinking,
growing and age changes to muddy things. Is it worth continuing, or should we go back
to other works in progress? Let us know.


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