Ivy retained Nygma's services for a few weeks, finding nothing unusual with the Joker or Harley. He hadn't hurt Harley, but she was certain that that was only a matter of time. Still, she thanked Nygma, paid him, and he left.

But while Harley and The Joker had been the same, Ivy was certainly not.

The boxes of sweets she consumed regularly, combined with her general laziness, had bloated the villain up. She wasn't fat, just kind of chubby.

A rounded middle, a chunkier rear end, and a slightly rounder face made up Ivy's chubby form.

She was aware of it but didn't mind. It made her feel more human, something she had feared losing owing to her plant-like nature. Before, she had needed Harley around to reaffirm her humanity, but now it revealed itself in every extra part of her.

Along with the weight, another odd feature made itself known.

Her body was producing a miasma, one that soon permeated every part of her hideout. It didn't appear on any scans of the area or to the ordinary citizen walking miles away, but it was effecting the local populace.

Ivy first noticed the effect as she spied from her bedroom.

A jogger, a mile or so away, huffed and puffed, her clothes straining to contain her fat frame, a frame that had been skinny when she had started her run.

The sight made Ivy ponder.

What if she could lure some of her fellow rogues or enemies to her base and ruin their trim, athletic figures?