Stephanie Brown sighed in contentment as she floated
down a river of bliss. There was only
her and Tim. Everything else—images of
Luthor, Cassandra, her transformed body, the thugs at her feet and the total of
Gotham had all fallen away. At that
moment they were little more than forgotten dreams.
Tim moved behind her. He wrapped two powerful arms around her waist
just under her breasts. He pulled her
tight into him. Stephanie could feel
every contour of Tim’s body, even thru the fabric of their uniforms. His rippling muscles; the way his chest
expanded and contracted as he breathed. His
cock……Stephanie felt Tim’s member pressed against her rear; it was rock hard
and straining to be free.
Stephanie giggled.
God she was horny.
Stephanie’s blood burned and raced thru her body. Her nipples were hard and straining against
the fabric of her costume. Her pussy was
gushing and hungry to be filled. She was
a dam ready to break. ‘Take me!’ She
wanted to scream to Tim. ‘Peel this fucking Bat suit off me and take me! Fuck
me right fucking now!’
Tim started whispering into her ear, she barely
heard his words which were hot honey that he poured onto her brain. He let a hand drop down her front and began
methodically massaging the front of her crotch.
Stephanie sucked in a lungful of oxygen and closed her eyes allowing
herself to enjoy the sensation.
Then
it was gone.
Tim
was gone. His wonderful body, his
capable hands and his steel hard cock:
all gone. They vanished
completely and only she was left behind.
Stephanie suddenly felt very alone; too scared to open her eyes.
“Stephanie?”
It was a man’s voice, but not Tim’s. Mustering as much courage as she could, Stephanie
slowly opened her eyes.
Dick Grayson was standing before her, dressed as
Nightwing. “Are you ok?” he asked, the
concern heavy in his voice, “We were worried about you.”
Staring into his caring eyes, Stephanie’s fear
dissipated. She smiled in relief. ‘Dick is so great.’ She thought. Her eyes drifted from his face down the
length of his body. His fit, athletic
body incased in the skin tight black and blue Nightwing uniform. Stephanie was suddenly struck by how sexy
Dick looked as Nightwing. ‘I bet Dick has
a great dick!’
Stephanie giggled at the idea and her horni-ness
returned.
“Damn it Brown!
Get a hold of yourself!”
A new voice.
Female. It was Batwoman. Kate Kane.
She stepped from behind Dick, in full costume. Wait—not full costume, Kate didn’t have her
cowl or the red wig on. Her hair was
buzzed and her lips were painted black.
Her skin was pale like porcelain and seemed to glow in contrast to her
black and red outfit. Stephanie wasn’t a
lesbian, but she did approvingly notice the way Kate’s red bat symbol hugged
her bosom.
Stephanie began imagining Kate’s breast’s—her
tits—seeing them with the same pale perfect, glowing skin as her face. Two perfect scoops of vanilla ice cream, with
Kate’s nipples and surrounding areola’s as the cherry treat on top. Stephanie licked her lips. She wasn’t a lesbian, but she wondered what
it be like to peal that crimson bat right off and bury her face in them.
Stephanie felt her vagina moisten with desire. Her eyes glazed over. They drifted back to Dick and her fantasy
grew. Maybe Dick could join in she
mused, take Kate or me from behind with his dick….his Cock. ‘His
fucking super hard Cock.’
None of this was real. And if Stephanie Brown was of clear mind and
could step out of her body for a moment she would quickly see that it was the
work of the chair. The conversion chair,
which while given the task to weed out her knowledge of the Oracle, was still
designed for the express purpose of converting women into wanton nympho Bimbo
whores. Whereas the chair had exploded a
bomb in Cassandra’s Cain, it’s machinations on Stephanie were like drops of
water, one after the other.
Drip, drip, drip…..
“Leave her alone G.I. Jane”
Jason Todd was there, away from everyone else,
sitting at a table. His Red Hood helmet
placed next to him on the table, his right arm resting on top. “You know she got it worse than all of us.”
“Whatever Robin 2.0” said Kate, waiving a hand
dismissively at Jason.
‘Jason
is a bad boy.’
Stephanie mused; she bet Jason knew some bad things he could do to
her. Lay here out and just use
her---pound her fucking twat—
“All of you quiet.”
The command came from behind her. Four simple words, spoken with absolute
authority—Stephanie shivered in pleasure at their power. She turned to face the speaker, her knees
growing weak in submission. She wanted
to get on her knees….
A woman’s place was on her knees….
It was Bruce Wayne approaching her. A shirtless Bruce Wayne; naked to the bottom
half of his Bat suit, a white towel draped over his shoulders. The man was built like an Adonis, everything
about him perfectly put together.
Stephanie vaguely recognized that Tim had returned,
standing far off behind Bruce looking over his shoulder. But Tim was a boy, Bruce was---
‘The God Damn Batman!’
Bruce came right up to her; Stephanie felt herself
wither under his dark gaze and began slipping to the floor before him. ‘On her knees.’ Bruce reached out and took her arm in his
powerful hand, keeping her steady and standing.
“Where are you Stephanie?” He half asked and
commanded her, “It’s important that you know where you are.”
“I’m, I’m, I’m…” she stammered.
Like a light turning on, it dawned on Stephanie that
she was standing in the middle of the Batcave.
Dick and Kate were down in front of the main computer, Jason was at a
work bench and Bruce and Tim were coming down the catwalk that led up to Wayne
Manor. She could see the Batplane, the Batmobile, a giant penny and that
Dinosaur. ‘Why is there a Dinosaur in here?’ She didn’t remember coming
here--she had been on a roof in Gotham.
There were bad guys at her feet and Tim—
Stephanie broke away from Bruce’s hand, turning away
from the caped crusader. Her and Tim,
the way she had imagined everyone, her horniness. “Jeesus” she muttered to
herself. ‘What the hell was that, I’m not like that.’
She looked out and saw her reflection in the polished
chrome side of a vault where Bruce stored his extra costumes. The person staring back wasn’t some oversexed
whore; it was just plain old Stephanie Brown.
She was wearing her purple Batgirl outfit, sans the cape and cowl. Her yellow utility belt sat comfortably on
her hips and her blond hair hung loose around her shoulders. Bruce placed his hand on her shoulder and
turned her back to him.
“I know you feel ‘excited’” Bruce began, “a little
overwhelmed. But you need to
listen. Mad Hatter, the Scarecrow and
Doctor Strange all joined forces. They
were planning to take over Gotham with mind control gas. You found it and stopped them. But you got blasted with their gas. Tim managed to get you out before it
completely overwhelmed you. But we don’t
know how bad it is yet. So I need to ask
you and I know this may sound strange:
but who is the Oracle? Where can
we find her base of operations?”
Bruce laid both hands on Stephanie’s shoulders and
stared straight at her.
“You can trust me.”
Stephanie brought her hands up to Bruce’s, feeling
their comforting strength. Despite everything
that had happened (the rooftop, appearing in the Batcave, her growing lust),
whatever confusions and other feelings they caused in her slipped away. Banished under Bruce’s moral authority; the
man was a rock.
She did trust him; without hesitation.
“The Oracle,” Stephanie began “Is Barbara
Gordon. The Commissioner’s daughter and
the first Batgirl.” Bruce smiled and encouraged
Stephanie to continue, to not leave out a single detail. Stephanie told Bruce everything: the secret Clock tower base, her command of
the Birds of Prey and connection to other heroines like Misfit and Black
Alice. How much of a big help she was to
all the superheroes, including Superman and Wonder Woman.”
When she finished Bruce congratulated her and
Stephanie beamed under his approval.
Then he smiled at her, a sly Cheshire cat grin, like he had a dirty joke
to tell. Bruce brought his face within
inches of Stephanie’s and said:
“There’s just one more thing.”
He gripped her shoulders and turned her around. Stephanie gasped at what she saw: There was a mirror, a mirror that hadn’t been
there before, and the person staring back from it wasn’t Stephanie Brown. The person in the mirror looked like a sex
doll brought to life! She had a hourglass
shaped body, two gravity defying soccer ball sized boobs, a round plump
backside and two long shapely legs. The
entire package was barely contained by a straining pink bikini top and a
spandex blue mini-skirt that barely reached pass her pussy. The Bimbo—and that’s plainly what the girl
was— wore pink fish net stockings that reached to the mid of her thigh and a
pair of blue fuck me pumps. The Bimbo’s
hair was full and platinum blond, tied off with pink ribbons into two loose pig
tails. Her face, dominated by bright
eyes and fat pillow like lips, was heavily made up; the lips especially were
thickly coated in fire truck red lipstick.
Stephanie gasped a second time and the Bimbo in the
mirror gasped as well. Before she could
say or do anything, Bruce brought his lips right to her ear and declared:
“Stephanie Brown is a slutty cock loving BIMBOSLUT!!”