Batgirl's surprised expression was the last thing to collapse as her shell crumpled to the ground like a discarded food wrapper. Standing in her place was a tall, thickly built female form. She flexed her muscles, making them bulge like pythons, clenching her hands, her leather suit groaning in protest.

She wore all black leather: black thigh-high boots with hard heels and steel toes, black opera gloves, a black halter top with reinforced armour plates, and a mask attached with evil red goggles. What was most apparent was the spikes: sharp metal studs that ran down her arms, her legs, over her knuckles, at the tips of her boots, around her neck and down between her breasts. All that remained to indicate this was once Barbara Gordon, Batgirl, was the sharp points of her bat-mask and the utility belt hanging on her broad hips. Now, she looked like she could take on Bane and win, bare-handed!

"Free," she said fiercely, gladly, her voice rumbling. She sensuously ran her hands down her muscular frame, enjoying her own touch. A grin split her red-painted lips as she beheld the two women before her, seeing their expressions warring between triumph and worry. Had they gone too far with her?

They were right to be concerned. Before they could react, Barbara had snatched Huntress's pitchfork out of her hands and flipped her on her back with a sweep of her foot. Like lightning, she had a powerful hand around Catwoman's neck, holding her against the alley wall.

"I like your surprise, Selina," the former Batgirl purred. "How do you like mine?"

Catwoman gasped as the redhead ground her crotch against hers. Something fleshy swelled under Barbara's leather thong, something hard and hot and aching for release. She'd turned Batgirl into a she-male!