Now, twisted, corrupted, and insane from her Mistress's lusts, she wanted Batman more than ever. She wanted him as a fellow pleasure slave. And now, with the collar allowing her to use her full powers in addition to her new ones, that would be trivial.

Zatanna glanced at a mirror, then paused. She was more beautiful than ever now. Her breasts--all four of them--were magnificent. Her clawed hands were astonishing, and her hooves the finest in all the land, accentuating her legs. And the goats' horns adorning her head... truly, the was the fairest in the land. Only her Mistress was more beautiful.

She shook her head. She had work to do. "Namtab em wohs," Zatanna whispered in her backward tongue (her wonderous, foot-long tongue), and instantly the mirror became a scrying screen, showing her Bruce, working at his computer in the Batcave. No one else was in sight. Her lips curled into a twisted smile. Time to have some fun.

"Obmib emoceb ecurb."

---

Batman looked up from his work. He thought he'd heard something and looked around. No one seemed to be there, but he didn't trust that. For safety's sake, he pulled his mask back on, careful not to tear it with his long nails, then slipped into the shadows. Silently he searched, but saw nothing unusual. He took a seat again and pulled off the mask, careful not to catch any of his long, blonde hair badly.

He kept squirming. Something was wrong with the chair. It was lower than it should be for him, so he raised it, squirming some more as his ass widened and waist shrunk. He fidgeted as his chest swelled, and finally just got up and pulled off his costume completely, leaving him in his boxers. He pulled those off, too, even as the remaining sign of his manhood pulled up into himself, leaving a sweet, tight pussy.

She giggled, sitting down, then cocked her head. She never giggled, did she? She giggled again, deciding it didn't matter, and looked back at the screen, trying to make sense of all the long words.