This is an idea that I had ever since I had a mood for crocodiles/alligators blowing up like balloons. And the only crocodile I know that I haven't written about was Killer Croc. It took a while and had to change some things around, but I'm happy wth the results. Hopefully you guys like it.

Killer Croc and Clayface belong to DC


Killer Croc finds himself Bane's venom and uses it for his own needs. But during his argument with Clayface, he should've listened to the warnings of the venom.
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Waylon Jones, AKA Killer Croc is one of the most dangerous criminals there is in Gotham city. From being born with a rare skin condition that gives him a crocodile-like appearance to being a man-eating criminal. The name Killer Croc does show him some confidence in himself as he wants to be intimidated and the dominant species. As a crocodile, he’s a natural predator and enjoys any kind of meat, human even. Though throughout his days during his illegal activities, the condition he thought was over didn’t stop. An elongated snout grew on his face with more teeth than before, and a long, scaly, and slithery tail that popped out of his torn-up pants. As most people would consider bad news, Croc considers it as new upgrades for his body. With a tail, he can move around and grab onto objects and a mouth to hold in more things, like a couple of people he can crunch and bite like the jaws of a shark. In the sewers below, Croc was starving. His belly rumbles underneath his six-pack, with Croc softly growing in annoyance. “Grrrrr, always hungry…always craving for meat!” He sits on a broken, molded, and clothed-made couch with the weight of his body making it creak every time. For Croc, humans rarely come into the sewers unless it was Batman. Ever since his announcement to Gotham city, people feared him enough to stay away from him. He would want to go up and find a human to eat up, but somehow the Dark Knight would stop him at any time. It annoys him so much and he isn’t willing to go back to the asylum. His stomach growls again and forces Croc to get up and find food for him. “Ugh, I can’t wait to get my hands on that bat. Once he’s gone, I’ll be able to gobble up every prey in this city.” He walks aside the sewer stream, flowing with him where he walks to.

He’s unsure what to expect in the sewers if no one wants to come down here, not even the workers who are supposed to fix some of the pipes that have been tampered with by the big crocodile himself, just so he can lure them into his trap. With huffs, grunts, and some belly grumbles, he stumbles himself onto a scent that he has never smelled before. It wasn’t meat, nor the presence of a human in his surroundings. It’s a strange smell, like chemically formed acid that burns his nose a little. Now he’s getting irritated into thinking that the Joker is polluting the water with acid. He needs the water next to him to swim to places more quicker. In full rage, he chases down the scent, cutting from corner to corner as the scent gets stronger through his nostrils. There, at the end of the hall with a giant elevator that goes up, he finds himself standing in what was a large wooden crate, one with some strange green liquid leaking from the bottom of the box. “What is this?” He asks himself as he walks up to the crate. The smell was coming from inside as it was burning his nose, but not to the point where Croc would avoid opening it. On the side of the crate, it reads [DO NOT OPEN] in all capital letters, meaning that someone is warning Killer Croc to keep the box closed. Then again, Killer Croc isn’t known for listening to warnings, he takes them on. Using his grip on the top of the box, with his sharp nails digging into the cracks, he rips the lid right off. “Urgh!” The smell hits him harder, going back a few feet with the lid dropped from his scaly hands. “It was definitely some sort of chemical that was messing with his nostrils.

He takes the courage to look at what's in the box, fighting against the stench. Looking inside, it surprises Croc. It was Bane’s suit, with the tubes, syringes, and the storage container full of the green liquid, known as the venom drug Bane uses. For why it’s here, Croc doesn’t know. Now intrigued, the only thing that pops into his head is using the machine. Without Bane in sight, he might as well get some of that venom in his system. He always wants to know what it feels like. “Heh, hope that meathead doesn’t mind if I use this.” He detaches the suit from the machine and takes the machine. The suit wouldn’t fit him anyways but the machine might. As for the syringes and the tubes, he might need to figure out where they’ll go. He knows that he’ll need some on his arms, neck, torso, and legs. As for the extra syringes, he could put some on his tail, ass, and right on the sides of his chest. For the first step, it’s easy to put the storage container on his back with those strange straps around it, like a backpack. Maybe it kept slipping off of Bane’s back and needed those straps. With the container done, he moves on to the syringes. The only thing that he finds an issue with the needles is the fact that his skin is hard as stone, making it a little difficult to penetrate the needles through. But he does have a backup plan, he could stick the needles through the scales and possibly between the cracks where they can reach the soft layer. It was worth a try for him. Croc sticks the first two needles on his upper arm, and just like he attended to, he stabs them through his soft skin between the scales. Most people would feel the pain of sharp needles going through their skin, but not Croc, he feels little or no pain. Sticking them in deep as they can go, Croc feels like he may succeed in this. For the next syringes, he sticks them into his other arm, then both legs, on the sides of his hip and the sides of his chest, between the ribs, the back of his neck, his tail, and for the final touches, his ass cheeks. He did have to stick those syringes down his pants just to get to them. He’s lucky that the tubes aren’t tied together and mixed up or he’ll have to spend the time untwisting them. And for the last part, there was a large wristband that connected the container and the tubes, as it had a knob and a button to turn it on.

Croc wraps it around his left wrist and keeps it on tight so it wouldn’t fall off. He wonders if he’ll be larger than Bane, or as he saw him before. As Croc spent more time with the machine, the smell of the venom didn’t bother the predator anymore. His senses must have gotten by it now. With everything done, he plays with the wristband, turning on the electronic remote and turning the knob halfway. Because of that, the container of venom hisses on his back as the chemical liquid flows through the tubes, getting closer to his body. The second it shoots into Croc, the big guy grunts aggressively. “GAH!” He lets out as the venom begins the changes to his body. He leans his hand to the brick way. Still grunting in pain, he watches his arm swell up with muscle, growing meatier, larger, and popping with green and glowing veins. “God! Why does it…hurt!?” With an enormous shout, his other arm and both legs swell up with the venom as well. Did Bane have to go through this the first time is the thought that Croc keeps thinking of. His pants tighten around his waist as the belt snaps right off easily, only due to the rust built on every time he goes underwater. His tail grows longer, more thicker like his butt cheeks as they bwomp out small. His pecs get larger, moving further forward his snout to half the length. More of those green and glowing veins appear all over his body with his irises turning from yellow to bright green in seconds. “Grrrrrr! I feel…..bigger!” He roars out, echoing in the chambers with his clawed hands in the air. He can’t understand the science of how this drug works, but he’s beginning to love it. The hissing stops as his swelling does too.

Croc grunts and hisses, now two more feet taller, meatier, and buffer. His tail sways side to side as he presses on his muscular arm with his hand, feeling the hardness and the warmth of the swollen muscle filled with venom. “God…….now I can see why Bane loves this drug.” He flexes his arms, showing off and squeezing his biceps to make them look bigger. “Yeah! That’s right!” Although he couldn’t get the sight of them, he encloses his chest to make his swole pecs squished together. He’s enjoying this by a mile, scrutinizing if he should grow more. Yet as he looks at the knob, it’s only halfway. Of course, he wants more but as he remembers, the drug can be very dangerous to a person’s mind. If he were to lose control of his body and his consciousness, he might end up dead or back in Arkham, and he doesn’t want both. So he leaves it as it is. Looking back in the box again, Croc had forgotten to look closely to find a small note, or most likely a small particle of paper to Croc due to how large he is compared to a human being. Using only his claws, he gently grabs the paper without poking a giant hole in it. He gets it as close to his eye as he can so he can read it. It was someone’s handwriting due to it being messy and used with lead, or ink to be exact with Croc not sure what was used to write this letter. But it reads, [New venom formula, do not mix with clay.] There wasn’t any signature to who wrote it or who it’s for, but Croc tears it up anyway as it was useless to him. Though when reading that letter, it reminds him of what he needs to do next, go see an old friend of his, Basil Karlo, AKA Clayface. He and Clayface weren’t best friends, though enough that they wouldn’t hate each other that much. Croc is a gloater when it comes to dominance and Clayface has an issue with that, as he’s one who wants to stay on top. Every time Croc shows off his muscular arms, Clayface can morph into anything he wants, which are larger muscles than Croc's. It keeps pissing off the crocodile and with his new equipment, he’ll show Clayface that he can be much bigger than him.

“Heh, I bet he’s still at that theater.” Croc says with a smirk on his face. The theater isn’t that far from him, in fact there’s an exit that leads toward the basement of the theater. He leaves the box and walks down the path, making a few corners before reaching the stairs that lead up to the basement door. Croc hopes that Clayface is still there. But if not, he could wait for him. Then again, where else could Clayface go? He’s a criminal just like Croc, unless he’s out in the streets disguised as a random person. In the basement, with no lights and objects surrounding the buff crocodile, Killer Croc passes and knocks over the stuff as he sees more stairs leading up. Making it through, Croc walks up the stairs that connect to the backstage. As he gets closer, he can hear what sounds like someone roleplaying on the stage, with a familiar voice. “Good, you’re here.” Croc whispers to himself, smirking before peeking behind the curtains to see Clayface, acting. Clayface was just as large as Killer Croc, though with his new venom, Clayface might need to upgrade himself once Croc shows himself to him. He doesn’t have any clothes as he can just morph into any clothing he wants. His face doesn’t have any facial appearances besides those black eyes, some clay-like teeth, no nose nor hair, and glob of clay as his skin. Unlike Croc, his body structure isn’t muscular or fit. He can be at any time but his true form is just rolls of clay and what looked like a belly with a bit of fat, or that’s what the clay made him look like from the start.

“Here I stand in my position!” Clayface says, to absolutely no one on stage. He doesn’t get an audience due to who he is and his past crimes. Croc would sometimes watch him play, other times he’ll sleep through it. Maybe that’s why Clayface tries to upstage him in those muscle contests. “Don’t test me, Batman! I’m not going to back down!” Croc had to duck his head and look around to make sure that Clayface wasn’t actually talking to Batman. Seems like his common reflexes spoke up even if he got bigger in size.

Having enough of standing there, Croc makes his arrival behind Basil. “Why not say that to him, yourself?” Croc says, crossing his arms. “I bet you can make him laugh with that speech.” He jokes after.

Clayface jumps in surprise, unexpecting his mutual friend to be here. “Waylon, my show doesn’t come on until tomorrow, you know that!” He said, a tiny bit angry and more puzzled by the size of the crocodile. He noticed that Croc has gained more muscle on his arms, legs, tail, and torso, like he’s been working out. “What the hell happened to you? You look…….” He couldn’t find the word to describe Croc.

“Swole? Yes, indeed I am.” He flexes his muscular arms in front of him, just to show him off like always. “Bane left his stuff and I’m just borrowing it for good uses. Like this.”

Clayface is silent, more likely due to the fact that Croc would do something so dangerous. He’s never touched the venom but knowing Bane well, he’s well aware that side effects are a terrible thing for a drug like that. “I see…….Waylon, why?” That’s what he wants to know.

“Oh you know why!” The croc snaps at him. “Always being on top, always bigger, always buffer than I try to be!” He takes steps closer to Clayface, with both realizing that Croc is now much taller than Basil, before they were the same height as usual. “Now with this, I can be bigger than you!” He’s tempted to turn the knob to max and overflow his body with all the venom he wants. “I can demonstrate it for you…..”

Croc places his hand on the knob before Clayface panickily puts his own hand on top, stopping him. “No, you idiot! You’ll die!” He pulls Croc's hand away from the knob, carefully making sure that nothing moves it. “You already look in pain!”

Croc raises his eyebrow at him, doubting the blob of clay. “Do I? I think it feels great. You’re just stopping me because you’re jealous.” That’s what he assumes of Clayface.

In shock and antagonism, he puts both his slimy hands on his head in outrage. “Jealous of what!?” He couldn’t understand why the crocodile was so small-minded to the situation.

“The fact that I started with muscles and you don’t.” Now he’s attacking Clayface’s body weight, believing that his rare skin disease was the chance of a lifetime. “I mean, you either put on a few pounds from something or that clay keeps giving you too many calories.” He forgot the story of what happened to Basil before he became Clayface but he doesn’t want to focus on that. Arrogant for his head-harded ego, he pokes Clayface’s gut, sinking his finger in and getting it right out. “Shame you don’t have a six pack in that form. Mine is already better than it was before.” He smears some of that clay onto his abdomen, slapping it after to show that there wasn’t any jiggling to it. “See, no fat. Unlike yours, you lard of clay.”

Clayface’s temper rises. He didn’t start his night to be interrupted and insulted by Killer Croc, just so he can listen to the amphibian gloat about how perfect his venom-powered body is. “You better leave now, Waylon! I’m not going to let you talk about this in front of me!” He warns Croc with his teeth gritting and his clay-like hands curled up into balls.

Croc just laughs in his face, mocking the fallen actor. “Or what? What’s a blob of dough going to do when I have venom to survive?” It’s his assumption that he can take Clayface in a fight. “Have you ever given up on acting and do something better like an art piece at a museum? You’ll be a good replacement for those stolen clay vases.”

The clay monster is fuming with rage, seconds away from destroying this narcissistic croc. WIthout any control, he lashes at Croc, pushing him down onto the floor with his appenages pinning Croc’s all four limbs, and tail. “Shut up!” As a shape-shifting blob of clay, he’s able to create and use as many limbs he needs to keep Croc down.

“Hey! Let go of me!” Croc hisses loudly at him, struggling to get out. He can’t reach the control on his wrist and is in deep trouble with the angry clay monster holding him down. “I can’t…..get to the knob!” Strange how Clayface is still stronger than Killer Croc who’s filled up on venom. “I’ll eat you!” He threatens though clay may not taste good.

If he had eyebrows, Clayface would raise one as he’s inspired by that threat. Looking at Waylon’s six pack, his mouth forms into a nice smile like the Joker’s. “You know what, I think you’re missing one thing that you need for your body.”

“Huh…..” Croc lets out as he felt like he messed up by the fact that Clayface was smiling instead of being livid. “W-what is it?”

“Let’s see….you got large muscles, a nice thick tail…..all that’s left is a nice round belly….” He stares directly at Croc’s flat and packed gut, understanding what he must do now. “Hope you’re hungry because I’m about to stuff that belly like filling up a water balloon!” Two extra arms form out of his chest and push the crocodile’s jaws wide open. In a surprise, Clayface shoves his head inside of Croc’s mouth, pushing deeper and forcing Croc to swallow him.

“Gulp, gulp, gulp…” It’s the only noise he can make for now, except for some whimpers. His neck bulges and expands while the movement of Clayface goes downward to his abdomen. In just seconds, Croc’s six pack turns into a swelling balloon. Croc can’t do anything about it with Clayface holding him down steadily. The more Croc can feel his belly growing, the more miserable he gets. Although he didn’t work hard to get that six pack, he loved it. With his belly getting bigger, Clayface shrinks from the outside. He gets shorter in height and thins himself inward. Soon, it becomes clear that Clayface isn’t stopping until his entire body fits inside Waylon’s belly. From a small pot belly to a large beach ball, Waylon felt as if he ate three whole buffets. Minutes go by and Clayface manages to fit his entire body inside, leaving Croc free and a belly larger than a yoga ball. “Ugh…..BRAAP!” He’s sick to his stomach and belches aggressively. “Disgusting…BURP!” Looking down at his giant, sloshy belly, he whines as he pokes it. It wasn’t tight but he’s saddened at the fact that he actually has to workout to get back his six pack. “Y-you are…..BUUURP….sickening….God I feel full…..” At least he ate something finally. He sluggishly gets up on his legs again and keeps groaning.

Clayface happily sloshes around inside, moving around to annoy Croc. “Have you learned your lesson yet, Croc?” He said, talking from inside with Croc hearing him loud and clear.

“Grrrrr…..the only lesson I learned is to never let you overpower me.” He slaps his belly hard enough for it to shake violently, just to hit back at him. “Now….I think I’m gonna go back and digest you.” As if he could spit him out, he knows that Clayface wouldn’t go anywhere. As he begins to take a few steps, his belly aggressively grumbles like indigestion. “G-gah…..Clayface…..stop moving around in there!” He shouts in anger, blaming his meal for the stomach troubles.

Basil doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s not moving around or agitating the croc in any way. He also hears the loud rumbling inside, along with some bubbling. It vibrates the walls of Croc’s stomach like a washing machine. “It’s not me!” Clayface defends himself. “But uhh…..” He notices something strange inside Croc’s gut. “I think it’s getting more spacious in here, I can move around more freely.”

“Freely? What are you-” He looks down at his round belly, in shock to watch as it expands like a balloon. His eyes widened up and his lower jaw dropped down in shock. He can’t believe what's going on with his inflating belly. He uses his sharp finger to poke at it gently, watching it sink in as he can feel nothing but air inside. “Oh god! What did you do, Clayface!?” It wasn’t stopping and Croc can’t make it shrink. He presses on his gut in hopes that he can belch it out, but nothing comes out of his throat. It was as large as a yoga ball with his hips spilling over his pants. “I’m expanding!” He can’t see past his feet, nor his legs as his belly covers his ground view. His back swells outwards as well, transforming his entire torso into a round, inflated ball. He had to put his arms in a t-pose and his legs spread apart as his thighs were getting thicker inside his pant legs. “Grrrrr….do something, Clayface!”


“What do you want me to do!? I didn’t expect clay to do this sort of stuff!” As someone who had been forced to chug a specialized jar of clay before his criminal days, he never knew this could be the result. In a sudden surprise for Croc, he yips when he felt his butt cheeks bwomping behind him and his tail puffing up.

With his abdomen rounding out larger, he remembers that labeled warning from that box he stole Bane’s equipment at. The one that said not to mix the specialized venom with clay. Now everything was coming together for him. “Oh no! I’m building gas from the venom and you!” He said as he needs to find a way to get the venom out of his system. His only hope he knows so far is to turn off the machine and hope it can stop producing the venom in his muscles. As he tries to reach for the remote on his wrist, Croc comes to find out that it’s much more difficult than it seems. First, his arms cannot reach each other with his ballooning belly and chest being in the way. Second, the gas was spreading to the other parts of his body, including his arms which he needs very badly. As they puff up like balloon animals, each of his clawed fingers pop into sausages, unable for Croc to wiggle or move them around, the same with his elbows as they connect with his entire swollen arms. His feet did the same thing as well, with each of his toes popping into bloated, mini balloons with his nails sinking inside. Helpless and unable to do anything, he screams for help to Clayface and whimpers loudly like a dog. “I can’t……move!” He once waddled but now he tips to one side and to another. Because of how his body stretches out, the syringes pop out of his skin and the straps from his container full of venom rips off due to his expanding arms, even the control on his wrist peels off from his over-inflated wrist. The entire equipment drops to the ground but yet Croc still swells up. His feet couldn’t touch the ground anymore with his body getting more spherical and forcing his extremities to sink into his orb-shaped body. His cheeks blew up, but yet he can still speak with that long snout he has. Rocking side to side, Croc can’t feel any bursting, probably due to the fact that he skin is unbreakable.

Inside, Clayface has formed himself back into his giant two-legged shape now with Killer Croc the size of a blimped whale. “Ummmm…..are you doing well, Croc?” He asks, now worried about his friend. He was pissed about the situation the two had, but now it’s gotten to the point where he feels terrible about Waylon. “Are you going to pop?” He didn’t hear any creaking whatsoever which got him curious as he pokes the inside of Croc’s hollowed out stomach.

“Stop that! G-gahhh!” Croc growls, wishing that he could find a way to kill him. Seconds later, the swelling finally stops as it leaves Croc purely immobile and taking up the whole stage. “Dang it, Basil! I’m….huge!” At least his pants were stretchy for him, it would've been embarrassing for him to be in his underwear during all of this. He breathes heavily, wheezes and can't move anything on his body, not even his tail that was so swollen that it can’t be swayed side to side as he would want it.

Basil didn’t know how to help besides rubbing Croc’s interior stomach walls. “Well, you were right about something. You’re truly bigger than me.” He said as a joke with a chuckle at the end. Croc leaves grumbles and snarls out of his mouth, rolling his eyes. Without any idea how to deflate, he might need to wait for someone, maybe Batman or some cops, to help him out and get Clayface out. “You know, I honestly think you’re much better when a blimp, you could be great for the upcoming freak show.”

Croc wishes that won’t happen, he hates being humiliated like that. “Ugh……just shut up….” He sighs annoyedly, learning his lessons to never steal Bane’s venom and to never irritate Clayface or else he’ll become a crocodile blimp.