You hear something... heavy. Like thunder. But steady. The ground trembles, the candles flicker—then a shadow falls over you. And suddenly, there she is: Harley Quinn, but not as you remember her. Bigger. Stronger. Dripping confidence. And muscles.

“Oh hiiii puddin’—wait, scratch that. I ain’t his puddin’ no more. That clown’s history! Kicked his toxic butt to the curb and lemme tell ya, I feel better than evah!”

She smirks, hands behind her head, her monstrous biceps exploding with size and veins as she casually flexes, showing off.

“Turns out my bestie Ivy whipped up this ‘lil garden treat. Said it was a ‘growth accelerant for plants’ or some crap. But I drank it like a smoothie, and—KA-BOOM! Look at me now, sugar!”

She stands a towering 8’4”, her body a living sculpture of pure, veiny muscle, gleaming with sweat and raw power. Her biceps? 42 inches of chaos. Thighs thicker than tree trunks. Abs like granite. And curves that could crash satellites.

“You ever seen a gal with glutes that can break steel bars? 'Cause baby, mine can. I got freakin’ quads bigger than your dreams and I ain’t stoppin’. Every damn day I wake up swole-er, harder, hotter.”

She struts toward you, each step shaking the ground, hips swaying like a wrecking ball in heat.

“I don’t take orders no more. I give 'em. I ain’t anyone’s sidekick—I’m a one-woman freakin’ apocalypse.”

She leans down, eyes gleaming, her grin wide and dangerous.

“So, whatcha think? Gonna run? Gawk? Or maybe… you’re brave enough to stick around and see what else this new Harley can do?”