Batgirl’s Dented Personality
Story suggested by AnimeLover1808
When Barbara Gordon woke up that morning, she was surprised with how clear her mind felt. She didn’t have a headache and she must have gotten all the hours of sleep she needed. After years of crime fighting and pursuing criminals, Batgirl was used to waking up to aching joints, jittery knees and a massive headache- all of which she ignored in order to get through the day. This day, she did have the aching joints and some body pain, but it felt more like she had a one night stand instead of a night of crime fighting. Still, she knew she had been out protecting Gotham again- she did so every night, especially with Batman out of town. Memories of the previous night, however, were nothing but a faded black mystery, a hidden blur.
Barbara yawned before flipping over the covers and sitting over the left edge of her bed. She looked around her room. There was a READ poster dedicated to the Gotham Library on her wall, a poster of the british singer duo Chad and Jeremy, and a poster dedicated to a New York songstress named Leslie Gore. Sometimes Batgirl would look at the Leslie picture and muse about how similar the young woman looked to an employee Catwoman had for a while, but then she’d just shake her head, laugh, and continue with her day. There were more things to worry about other than if pop stars could be villains.
After slipping off her pajamas and heading for her small bathroom, Barbara went to the faucet and started to run the water. She lifted her head in the thoughts of opening her medicine cabinet but she stopped when she looked in the mirror. Her hair, which had always been a full collection of red tresses, was suddenly a pile of green hair. Bright green. Barbara looked at it with shock and curiosity. How could this have happened? The first sight of it was like an unexpected dream, and after a few seconds of shock settling, the hair remained as a realistic nightmare.
“Gross.” Barbara scowled, repelled by the hairstyle. “It looks as ugly as the freaking Joker.”
Barbara felt a bit of anger. She would have never done this to her hair. The entire last night was a blur. Had she decided to drink a little? She didn’t drink often, and she never did so after a crime fighting session. No. This was too weird, too strange and out of character. With the last night an enigma, Barbara was worried about what may have happened, but what could she do about it? She couldn’t cry or waste her time getting upset unnecessarily.
Barbara stepped out of the bathroom to look at her clock. It was 9:00. She didn’t have to be at her Gotham Library job until noon. That gave her enough time to leave her apartment, go to the neighboring hair store and find some red dye. That could work. Before then, she could see how temporary this green dye was (or wasn’t) and try to wash it out. Set with a good plan, Barbara went back into the bathroom and prepared her shower water. Slipping out of her undergarments, she proceeded to get soaked. She let the water run directly over her head first as it proceeded down to her shoulders, her breasts and back, moving down the contours of her hips and legs. Almost immediately, after getting some hair and water away from her eyes, she could see green rivulets of dye joining the water. A sense of relief moved through her. Oh, thank God, some of it can be washed out. Even so, she was a bit nervous with how much would actually come out.
Barbara grabbed a big bottle of shampoo and lathered up her hair. As her hands and fingers ran through it, she scrubbed against her scalp and head harder than usual. Her hands were already stained with green and the dye was running against her arms. It was no problem- the water was constantly washing off the newly released dyes, letting them run down the drain. Still, dyes ran all over her skin, staining her breasts and torso with green before it poured down her legs. The floor of the tub and even the wall were becoming a green mess. At least it was getting out, the possibility of avoiding a hair shop visit more probable.
Who did this to me? Barbara questioned herself as she thought carefully. She must have avoided trouble to have woken up in her bedroom. Her apartment was still in tact. Still, she couldn’t help but think of all her green friends- The Riddler, The Joker, Poison Ivy. She couldn’t help but think The Riddler may have done something to her, since her entire night seemed to avoid her like a bad riddle. He had a horrific way of playing with people’s minds. She couldn’t help but feel she was being paranoid, however. If she had come back to her place, safe and sound, it would be no doubt that she may have had some fun before bed. She probably played with her hair and was basically knocked out after another long, busy night. No big deal.
Yeah, she thought. That was it. The words “no big deal” ran in her head like a repetitive affirmation from a television salesman as the dyes from the shampoo and water were dying down, hardly any green running now. She held some of her hair up to her eyes and nodded with a smile. All she saw was wet matted red tresses. From what she could tell now, she had gotten her hair back. Barbara decided that now as the time to fully wash. She got her washcloth and lathered it up with soap before first washing her face, especially the disgusting sleep crust around her eyes, and then paying attention to the rest of her body. Barbara took extra care to clean under her underarms after her neck and arms were washed, then proceeded to wash her breasts and underneath them. She noticed there was still some dye on her stomach and hips, which she cleaned perfectly before washing her back. After paying some close attention to her legs, she targeted her feet, getting the lingering dye off her soles and toes. After that, she could clean her crotch area and between her inner thighs before washing her backside, which she always saved for last. She assumed she must have been in the bathroom for no less than a half an hour before feeling fully clean.
After turning the shower faucet off and stepping out on the bathroom rug, Barbara grabbed a towel and started to dry up. The steam of the shower was still hot and spread through the area like a cloud, so she had to get out of there. After drying up a significant bit, she wrapped a towel around her torso and then her hair before stepping back into her bedroom. The first place her eyes looked was her clock. The clock said 9:28. Yes- she was nearly correct in assuming that she had been in the shower for nearly half an hour. This gave her a good deal of time to knock out any other responsibilities before going to work.
Barbara’s hair continued to tug at the towel on her head, cleaning up any excess water before looking looking into her bedroom mirror. She pulled the towel down. Wet red hair fell down to her shoulders, thick and moist. Thank God, she thought again. Barbara was so glad she didn’t have to dye her hair with a fake tint of red to disguise a fake tint of green. All the time, she was feeling her paranoias and fears subsiding. No major villain, or even a minor villain, would waste their time dying her hair, she thought. It was just some fun activity she had done before bedtime, some weird misunderstanding, and she would forget about it right then and there. Barbara Gordon was, once again, Barbara Gordon.
After getting her hair dried with the blowdryer and putting it up in a bun, Barbara reached into her closet. She always planned her clothes well in advance before her work week, and she had the perfect ensemble for now. She wore a nice checkered skirt she got at Gotham’s famous boutique, Lucy’s, and a cute black top that went with it perfectly. Her clear stockings were very respectable with her checkered shoes she had bought to match the skirt.
Barbara sighed happily. “Phew. Time to live a normal life again.” Normal. At least she had the day time to feel like a normal human being. Night time was different.
For breakfast, Barbara made some toast, had some eggs, fruit, and poured a glass of orange juice. The light meal always made her day start off well, so she stuck with it. After reading the newspaper, she looked at the clock. It was already 11:00. Time always flew when she read the paper. After checking the mirror a final time and making sure she was properly dressed, Barbara was out the door, ready to see her beloved library.
After getting through the Gotham city traffic, Barbara got to the library at 11:45. Perfect timing, she thought. Even Temple Fulgate couldn’t compete with her impeccable punctuality. She greeted some fellow librarians before heading into the back and clocking in. With her work day starting, Barbara excused the morning checkout desk worker and took over the desk for the evening.
Many patrons came to check out books or inquire where to find items. As always, Barbara was helpful, and she got into many conversations. Many laughs and jokes were exchanged that day. Many of the patrons couldn’t help but comment to Barbara about how much she seemed to be different that day. When Barbara would ask why, they would comment on how friendly she had always been, but today she was more jovial, cheery and... hilarious. After three or four hours, Barbara did think about how she had been making more jokes than usual. Although she fancied herself to be a witty and humourous person when time aloud, she had usually been a bit more reserved. Barbara wasn’t as serious as Batman in her day to day operations, but she surely never saw herself as an extremely jovial person either. Hm, she thought. She must have been in a good mood.
That would have explained a lot. For one, the work day was going extremely fast- faster than usual. Before Barbara knew it, it was six o’clock. This was one of her least busy days, since some days she would come in at 8 a.m. and then leave at 6, but she never remembered any of her noon to six days seeming nearly as quick as this one. All in all, she felt like she had only been in the library for half that time, and as much as she loved her job, she had to go. Part of her felt a little pained that she would resume her secret life that night, crime fighting and keeping Gotham safe. She usually looked forward to it with some exhilaration, but this evening she felt annoyed and even disgusted by it. Was she starting to get tired of the Batgirl lifestyle?
Still, someone had to do it. If Batman wasn’t here, she’d protect Gotham with all her heart.
Barbara must have been on autopilot. She remembered getting into her car, leaving work, and driving where she would have assumed with home, but her mind seemed to take her to another place. For some reason, she was finding herself in a costume shop and was looking directly at a jester costume. Weird, she thought to herself as she looked around and saw the many costumes that surrounded her. Why would she end up here? It was strange, but she felt like coming to the shop was part of her to do list, as if she had been planning to go here all day.
Barbara tried to backtrack her mind to a few seconds before. She remembered crossing through the row of aisles and specifically seeing the section titled “Clown and Jester accessories”. After that, she could remember browsing through the different items they had on the shelves- red noses, white gloves, clown horns, hats and shoes. As Barbara trailed back in the short term memory of her mind, she looked back at the shoes she browsed earlier. They sure were huge, many of them, and shiny, with an assortment of colors from red to black and yellow. The shoes, however, were not what she had come here for. Neither were the funnier, more outrageous and grotesque clown costumes. Something was nagging at her mind to get something sleeker, more chic. Her clothes would have the hilarity of any clown garb with a mix of sex appeal.
Barbara looked a small row of jester costumes and accessories. There was such a variety! There were many cap and bells in different colors, along with royal looking ruffles and even jester scepters. As beautiful as the caps were, she doubted that she would need to wear any of them. Hell, she thought, she could do something nice with her hair to go with the costumes. One of the jester tops stood out to Barbara as her hands gripped the sleeves. It was beautiful, she had to admit. One of the sleeves was a bright green, the other a striped black and red. There were playing cards sticking out on the left side of it’s torso with a big purple lilac of a flower. It even had a cute little skirt with black and white checker board print, much like what Barbara already had on. There must have been a Gotham party or masquerade she had remembered to prepare for, because the desire and necessity she felt for buying the costume was strong.
There was something else that attracted Barbara Gordon’s attention- hanging right under the jester top she had picked out was a beautiful pair of purple tights with clown faces where the knees would be. The clown faces were smiling with open mouths that appeared to be laughing. Barbara found it cute. She couldn’t help but think how good she would look in those tights, that silly top and maybe a ruffled collar with some greasepaint on her face. She bet she would even look better in that fancy getup than her Batgirl costume. For some reason, her crime fighting suit seemed very bland and boring compared to all this stuff. It was so bright, colorful and fun. No wonder Joker and Harley wore the duds they did, Barbara thought.
Buy, a strong voice inside her head kept saying, buy, buy. She could swear a laughter was circulating through her mind as well, an unending laugh. The laughter wouldn’t stop, but Barbara didn’t want it to end. Instead, she giggled along with it before suppressing her laughter. There were some nice purple gloves that she grabbed before taking a look at some high heels. One pair stood out to her- they were like regular high heels, except they were purple with green heels. No way, she thought. She had to look in her arms at her accessories- there were a lot of items here that reminded her of Joker and Harley’s colors. The only thing that made Barbara uneasy about the whole shopping ordeal was with how at ease she felt about holding these items. Before today, she would have gotten suspicious and uneasy with the aisle, but it felt like no big deal to her now.
Barbara looked in her arms. What a big pile! She hadn’t expected to grab so many costume accessories.
“It looks like you need a hand,” a voice said beside her.
Barbara turned to look the person beside her. It was a woman with dark long hair, a black tight fitting top with a matching skirt and fishnet stockings. She was some beautiful goth girl that looked like she had literally stepped out of the 80s. Her accent was strange, as if she had just got off a bus from California.
“Oh, er, I do,” Barbara said as she watched the goth girl take some of the accessories off her hands. “I guess I’m getting myself in trouble.”
“No problem. Well, it looks like you’ve got a lot of great stuff here. Cute shoes, nice tights... we’re usually dead around here when there’s no holiday session. Are you an actress or are you getting dressed for a boyfriend or something?”
Barbara laughed nervously. “Honestly, I couldn’t tell you why I’m dressing up like this. I mean, I’m use to dressing up but clown motifs? Clowns are so... out of my nature.”
The woman nodded. “I can relate. Sometimes you just need a change. Shall I ring you up, then?”
“I would be delighted if you did,” Barbara said.
The women carried the costume parts down the aisles as they headed towards the register.
“You know what you need with this?” the goth girl started to comment. “You should use some makeup and greasepaint. A clown just isn’t a clown without some greasepaint. Don’t you think?”
Barbara nodded. “I think you’re right. Where can I get some?”
“Oh, why, I keep all of that up here.” The woman reached under her desk and pulled out a number of different greasepaint and makeup containers. “Cash or credit?”
Barbara’s eyes widened as she looked at the containers. Wow, she thought, that’s a lot of greasepaint! Still, no part of her could protest against buying them. “I, um, er, well... I guess... cash?”
The goth girl stared at Barbara with a blank expression before smiling warming. “You know what? I can tell you’re a costume enthusiast. How about this? Everything’s on the house.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes. It would be our honor for you to take these items. Just make sure you’ll have fun with them.”
“Yes. Yes! I promise I will. Thank you!”
After the clothes and accessories were put into shopping bags, Barbara headed out of the door. Then, she got back into her car. With the excitement Barbara felt, there was also a strong sense of embarrassment and confusion. She could have swore that most of the last hour went by in a blur. She remembered driving but she didn’t even remember going into the store, or even initially saying that she was going to buy a costume. There definitely wasn’t any memory in what she was going to use the costume for, and then she had to think about how much she hated anything clown related in the past. Clowns had always reminded her of the Joker, Gotham’s number one villain, and completely turned her off from anything dealing with costumed merrymakers, made up circus freaks, and buffoons. Clown always had equated to evil psychopaths in Barbara Gordon’s mind but, suddenly, looking at this costume and its silly motif didn’t make her feel any emotion related to rage or disgust. Instead, Barbara felt euphoria, glee, even intoxicated. The sight of the clothing inspired some hidden mischievous spirit inside of her. As the Joker started to plug into the memories of her mind, Barbara didn’t feel any of the regular ill will or hatred towards him. Suddenly, her mind was flooded with images of the Joker, which only brought up thoughts of laughter, joy, amusement, even loyalty.
Barbara had to stop herself. How long had she been thinking about The Joker? Ten, twenty minutes? Her heart was throbbing, the pulse of her veins hot and heavy. Was she... in love?
“No way,” Barbara thought as she slapped herself repeatedly in the face. This was a dream.
Yet, it wasn’t. Thoughts of the Joker wouldn’t leave her alone.
Barbara laughed.
Barbara’s new identity was slowly returning that night. Events were unraveling just as he had intended them to.
When Barbara came back to her apartment, she took her shopping bags and placed them on the bed. Her hands went into the bags and pulled out the articles of clothing. She looked through it all, sorting everything out on the bed- top, tights, shoes, skirt, gloves, hat, and the many makeup containers. An idea came to her as she looked at the skirt- a nice set of fishnet stockings would go so well with the costume. She wondered if she had been inspired by the strange goth cashier from the costume shop. Whatever the source, the idea has to be exercised. Barbara went to her dresser drawer and pulled out the stockings.
The woman rubbed her hands together in excitement as she looked at the ensemble. She couldn’t wait to try it on. She thought that she might as well get out of the clothes she had on now. She kicked off her matching checkered skirt and shoes before pulling off her black top. Her clear stockings were the next to go. It was then that Barbara realized that, for the whole day, she hadn’t been wearing any underwear. She was a bit shocked- it wasn’t like her usual self to go out without any undergarments on. Shrugging, she could only assume that she forgot. Still, she liked the thought of being in her new clown clothes without any lingerie underneath. Besides, why would she need pantiehose or a bra?
Barbara still didn’t understand the compulsive need to wear these clothes, and then again, she didn’t care. She was going to wear them, and she was sure that she would look quite good in them. Before she started to put anything on, she took a good long look in the bedroom mirror. She tried to envision herself wearing the clothes over her long legs, her curved hips and supply breasts. Her hands moved up to her hair, undoing her boring librarian bun- she loved that red texture but the hairstyle seemed so dated in professionalism, archaic and bland. No, she thought- for the new her, she needed something with spunk, maybe even a bit more... ‘emo-ish’. Barbara thought about the funny kids and the weird Gotham music scene, her head flooding with ideas.
Reaching back into her dresser, Barbara grabbed a pair of scissors. She went back to the mirror and started clipping her hair. With each snip, she wanted to make her hair more stylish. Around her neck, she cut her hair nowhere past the length of her shoulders. From there, she put some attention to her bangs, giving the ends more sharpness. It took no more than 15 minutes before she could put the scissors down, look at her naturally perfect red hair, and nod in approval at what she saw.
Barbara looked to the bed. There were all of the clothes, waiting for her. She walked over to the bed and pulled on the tights first. They outlined the shape of her strong legs nicely, accentuating her calves and hamstrings. So cute, she thought with a laugh before slipping on her top. She had to tighten the top from behind with some string hanging from the loops. After Barbara had fully put on her top, she licked her lips and playfully pumped up her breasts in her hands. The top gave her a good lift, and it only looked better when Barbara pulled on her new checkered skirt. She couldn’t help but notice how the skirt from the costume shop fit better and looked better than the skirt she had gotten at Lucy’s boutique. How could the costume shop have given away their merchandise so nonchalantly to a stranger?
The redhead reached over to her fishnet stockings and pulled them on before slipping on her new silly highheels. She made sure the fishnet stockings were pulled over her tights. The purple and green really looked good on her and made her think of Joker. Joker... an image that used to make her want to throw up suddenly made her heart throb and her skin warm. It was all so weird, and sort of embarrassing. With each article of clothing, she felt disconnected from her life and identity as Barbara Gordon. Batgirl was a distant and dull memory. No- right now, she was moving towards another ego, another self.
The woman laughed.
After grabbing a container of white greasepaint and heading to the mirror, the woman prepared herself with a deep breath. Now, she was going to apply her makeup. As soon as the first cool rub of greasepaint met her forehead, a memory came to her. Things were happening just as they were set to, all at the right time. She had been instructed to buy these costume accessories, to gather these paints, and now she was executing another demand- to become her new self. Barbara wasn’t going to be her name anymore- no. Even though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly who she was now, she was sure all of that would come to her. It wasn’t long before her entire face was painted white that she thought it could use more color. Yes, she thought- some purple over the top eyelids, a pinkish blush at the cheeks, red lips. She could be more creative than this.
As the woman reached for a violet container of greasepaint, she felt an array of confusion. Who was she? Barbara did not feel like herself anymore.
The woman started to paint over her eyelids. They came out to a beautiful cerulean blue, which really did wonders to bring out her eyes. After she finished painting her eyelids, she went to grab the red greasepaint and was back at the mirror. It didn’t take long for her to make the white on her cheeks mix in to create a pink blush on her cheeks, and after she cleaned her lips of white greasepaint, she easily applied red over the lips. Immediately, the red wetness of the lips stood out to Barbara as nice and sexy. She rubbed the lips together before puckering up in front of the mirror, making sure they were completely covered. Finally, she got some eyelash extensions in her drawer and put them on. They were long, dark,and curly. After her eyelashes were on, she drew thin black eyebrows over her violet eyelids. With her face perfect and complete, she could pull her purple gloves on without staining them.
“This isn’t me,” Barbara thought as she looked into the mirror. “This is someone different.”
Barbara walked to her bed and looked up at the ceiling. She ran her hands through her hair in confusion. Who was she? The question ran through her mind over and over again. It was too much for her to fathom. She had a pleasure from being dressed this way, and it suddenly made her feel guilty. It was as if she was suddenly forgetting who she was, letting go of all that made her. She didn’t look like an upholder of the law, or a guardian of justice. She looked like a clown, a buffoon, or a...
Joker. The clown prince bursted through the door of Barbara’s bedroom, laughing maniacally as Harley followed him inside. Harley’s hands were behind her back, a musing smile of mischief on her face.
Barbara looked from the mirror in utter fear and shock. Chaos kicked into her mind as she realized who was in her home. “Joker!” Barbara shouted.
The Joker turned to look at his new Duela Dent. Excitement flooded through him as he noted how successful his brainwashing had been. “How did you like my costume shop, Duela?”
Barbara’s eyes widened in shock. The costume shop. She would have never guessed in a million years that Joker owned the place. “D... Duela?”
“You forgot some extra luggage,” Harley said with a smile as she pulled her hands from behind her back and threw something in Barbara’s face. Barbara grabbed the item and looked at it. She recognized it instantly- it was the dark hair of the goth girl, merely a wig from the costume shop. The cashier had been Harley in disguise all along.
“The costume does suit her nicely, don’t you think, Harley?” Joker asked.
“You’re right, boss.”
“How... how did you two find me?” Barbara was afraid to move, cemented to the bed. Suddenly, even in the midst of shock, things were becoming clear. The sudden want to dress in clown clothes, the weird changes to her personality- the Joker had to be involved in this. If he was, somehow he was either aware of Barbara’s role as Batgirl or using her as a pawn against Commissioner Gordon. Either way, she had to keep silent about her alternative ego. “What did you do to me?”
“Well, Duela. I hope you understand that I let you live another day as your old self to teach you a lesson.”
“A lesson?” Barbara gathered the strength to stand up. “Whatever could it be?”
“Simple. Your life as Barbara Gordon or Batgirl could never be as fun as the life that we have in store for you.”
Barbara shook her head. There was no question about it now- Joker knew that Barbara Gordon was Batgirl. How could he have figured it out? Did he kidnap and brainwash her somehow, letting her go back to her normal life as some sort of joke before coming to claim her back? The whole scenario seemed like an asinine waste yet the cruelty of it was so much like Joker.
Harley walked toward the bed and sat beside Barbara. “We sure did have a lot of fun last night. Didn’t we, Duela?”
“Last night?” Barbara asked?
“Yes. When we brainwashed you and then played with you.”
Barbara felt anger rising. “So you’re playing some game with me? Like a toy doll?”
“Better than a toy doll, Barbie!” Joker laughed. “More like a living, breathing, easily manipulated and submissive toy doll.”
“You did something to my mind! What was it? Why am I behaving like this?”
“You won’t be needing to worry your pretty little head about all that stuff, Duela,” Harley said.
“No?” Barbara balled her fists. “Why not?”
“Because soon, you’ll be ready for round two and a night about the town.”
Barbara could feel her fists sweating as her teeth gritted. She was ready to fight if she had to.
“It’s all as simple as one phrase,” Joker said with a grin.
“Ha ha!” Harley turned to Joker. “What was that phrase, honey?”
“Well... I believe it was... oh yes! Let’s have some laughs!”
That was exactly it. Instantly, as the trigger phrase was announced, Barbara’s mind snapped into another mode. Suddenly, Barbara Gordon and Batgirl were no more. There was only Duela Dent, the Joker’s Daughter, standing before Harley and the Joker. Her lips grinned wide as her eyes shined with a flare of mischief.
“Let’s,” Duela said affirmatively.
“Well,” Joker said as he walked closer to Duela. He pressed a hand on Duela’s shoulder and looked her deeply in the eyes. “I have to be honest with you, Duela. Although we always have a lot of fun, and there will be a lot of laughs, there’s work to be done to.”
Duela lifted her left brow curiously. “Work?”
“Yes,” Joker said.
“Crime work,” Harley said.
“Crime... work?”
“Exactly.” Joker chuckled. “And we have quite a busy night planned for you. Well, shall we be off?”
Duela nodded. “Of course, daddy.”
Joker grabbed Duela’s arm and led her out of the door. Harley followed. The apartment was left behind, the shopping bags left on the floor. As the team headed out, Duela found it hard to try to predict exactly what could be in store for her that night.
To Be Continued