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Gotham had some very strange villains. There was a wide range to choose from: crazy clowns, crocodile-men, zombies, Penguin-themed villains, Pig-themed villains, sexy plant ladies, weirdos obsessed with children’s books… The list went on.
But this one took the cake.
He called himself Tiresias, like the Greek prophet, but in actuality he was an unqualified marriage counselor who only had a degree in history and was currently going through a psychotic break because his wife left him for a woman. He’d stolen a special stick that magically changed the sex of whoever got hit with it, and had been running around Gotham smacking people with said item.
Yes, really. This was actually the type of shit that Steph had to deal with. Not in her wildest dreams could she have hoped to make something this bizarre up herself. She wishes she was that imaginative, actually, it would be really useful for her Creative Writing class.
Even more insane, though, was that so-called Tiresias (why did mediocre male villains always think that copying the name of a mythological figure would give them any credibility?) got a strike in on Tim. Her boyfriend. Er, well, not anymore.
Now he was her girlfriend. He looked like he would if he was born a woman, she thinks. Slightly shorter, slightly less muscle mass, a set of breasts and more fat on his body. His hair was the same length and style, because of course such a thing wouldn’t magically give him long hair (gender roles much?), and his face looked remarkably similar, except just the tiniest bit rounder. He was still super hot.
She was having a sexuality crisis.
Again.
(It was not the first time.)
And so here they were, Tim standing in her bedroom, wearing her clothes. Usually she was the one borrowing his hoodies, and he wouldn’t complain when she hoarded them and never gave them back. Somehow he’s ended up back in a hoodie that was originally his but he hasn’t worn in years. It’s certainly a change of pace at the very least.
“I wonder if you can get your period.” She contemplates, her head against her pillow, watching idly as Tim paces back and forth. He’s been repeating this route for around five minutes by now.
“Oh my God.”
“We could do one of those like, period simulation videos where dudes try to see what it feels like, except this time it would be real.”
“Steph.”
“Oh,” She says, an idea popping into her head. “Is peeing sitting down weird for you? Did you forget and try aiming at first?”
He stops his pacing and flops down onto her bed, next to her, his head in his hands. “Steph, please.”
“Hey, once we find him and break the magic staff or whatever, you should be back to normal.” She pats his shoulder. “Don’t be so glum, sugar plum.”
Tim glares at her, irritated by her flippant attitude. Steph shrugs in defense.
“This is an opportunity! You’ve thought before about what it would be like to be the opposite sex, right?”
“I guess. Not really.”
“Well, most people do, but most people don’t get the chance. It’ll be fun.”
“Fun.” He repeats, skeptical.
“Yeah, fun.” In absence of a verbal explanation, she spins her hand like its a barrel rolling down a hill. “There’s plenty of fun things about this.”
“Like what?” By the tone of his voice, he clearly does not believe her, and Steph can’t really blame him, because she’s making it up as she goes.
She bites her lip, and looks over at him. He’s staring at the ceiling, probably thinking through a million different scenarios, looking just as adorable as usual, but in a different way.
Swiftly, but precisely, she rolls over and straddles him, cups his face with her hands. Tim looks up at her stupidly, wide-eyed.
“Like this.” She says, and kisses him.
Truthfully, she’s wanted this from the moment he changed, and she’d noticed it then, too, how pretty he was. In both of his bodies he was simultaneously pretty and handsome, but the curves he had in this one were tantalizing in a whole other capacity.
Her fingers rub up and down his body, squeezing him, examining how different each region on his body is. His skin’s a bit softer, less tight, but he’s still toned, particularly on his arms, legs, and stomach.
“Get naked.” She orders, and he does exactly that, shimmying out of his shorts and hoodie. He isn't wearing a bra because all of the ones Steph owns were too big for him, and she is rewarded with the sight of his bare chest once the final fabric barrier is removed.
She cups his breasts and he squirms. They’re rather small, complementing his muscular figure. His nipples are tiny and hard and dusty pink.
“Your tits are so cute,” She coos, and rubs a thumb over his right nipple. He blushes, and the blush travels down to his chest, making the image before her even more appealing.
“Steph.” He mewls — a mix of arousal and embarrassment.
She hums and bends down to place a small kiss on his breast, feels it grow harder. Her kisses become open-mouthed, wet, and then she takes as much into her mouth as she can — which was essentially all of it — and sucks and nips, bites into the flesh. He writhes and whimpers under her touch.
“Fuck, you’re responsive.” Steph notices. “Probably ‘cause you have tiny tits. Every girl in middle school used to complain about their boob size, said they wish they had mine, but big boobs aren’t as fun for stuff like this. You’re lucky.”
“That’s—“ Steph licks a long line from in between his breasts, down to his navel, and his breathing gets more labored. “—Educational.”
“Think of this as a lesson.” Steph announces when she gets to his pelvis. She can smell him before she takes his panties (Steph’s panties, really) off, and he smells different than he does in his normal body. He smells sweeter.
She pulls the underwear down his legs, excited to see what’s underneath, and winks up at him. “You better be paying attention for when you turn back. You might learn a thing or two.”
His mons is naked — must be because he shaved in his regular body — and she pouts with disappointment. She really wanted to see his pubic hair in this form; a dark cluster of curls gathering his surrounding wetness. There’s a tingle in her crotch at the thought. Lower, between his legs, is his flushed pussy, and there was so much fluid gushing out it was dripping down his ass. He looked perfect, and she wanted to get her mouth on him as soon as possible, but there was something missing.
“Huh.”
“What?” Tim asks, not particularly worried. There’s no point in being self conscious with her.
“You don’t have a hood.”
“A…?” Tim’s face scrunches in confusion for a split second before relaxing. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Tim clears his throat. “The clitoral hood is analogous to the foreskin, anatomically, so—“
“Ah.” That makes sense. He was circumcised in his original body, so the magic wouldn’t undo that when it gave him this one.
“Maybe that’s why I felt so… uncomfortable in those tight clothes earlier.”
That gives her a lot of delicious ideas for later. Correction — if there is a later, her rational mind supplies (which is currently a very minuscule part of her brain), but she’ll cross that bridge when she gets to it.
She blows a concentrated breath of hot air over his clit. It makes him squirm and whine, his thighs clenching around her head on instinct.
“You poor thing,” She says, teasing. “You must be so sensitive.”
“Steph.” He’s whimpering as he says her name, and even though it sounds so different when coming from this version of his voice, it turns her on nonetheless.
“Steph.” She agrees, and licks at his clit. It was no surprise that since he smelled sweeter, he tasted sweeter, too.
Tim yelps as she licks him, practically screams when she sucks his clit, slips the bud between her lips. She’s never done this before, never had a chance, but she’d always wanted to try eating pussy. Now that she’s had a taste she doesn't want to stop.
Steph pulls back to look up at him. His expression is dazed, his face red like a tomato. That’s good — she wanted to make him feel like how he made her feel.
“Wanna see how you taste?” She asks, and can feel him contract without even being inside of him. He moans the equivalent of a yes, and she climbs up to kiss him, darts her tongue against his. More noises of pleasure are forced out of Tim when their tongues slide together and the sharp flavor of his arousal overtakes his mouth.
Her hand creeps back down to his clit, rolls it with her thumb in tight circles. She slips her middle finger in between his folds and he groans at the intrusion, his walls fluttering and pulsing around the digit as she slowly pumps in and out.
“That feel good?” Steph whispers into his ear, taking a break from swapping spit only long enough for him to sigh out a contented ‘yes’. He clamps down so hard it feels like a bone might break when she adds a second finger.
Each swirl of her thumb on his clit has his legs shaking and spasming vigorously. He’s panting into her mouth now, groaning, unable to keep coordinating their kiss. She’s never seen him lose composure like this before; it must be overwhelming to suddenly have a body with a clitoris, something with so many more nerves than his cock had, something that spread extensively inside of him.
“I-It’s too much—” His voice is so high, a higher pitch than she’s ever even heard her own voice make, and he sounds genuinely pained.
Steph retracts her hand, kisses his neck. Some of the tension in his body leaves when she does. “What do you need?”
“Not — not directly on it.” He gasps. “Go around it.”
“You got it, baby.”
She repositions her fingers accordingly, increasing the circumference of the circles so he won’t get overwhelmed, and it works wonders. Not a minute later he’s coming, squeezing her arms tightly and rutting against her hand. She kisses him through it even though he’s lost the control to reciprocate properly.
As soon as he’s calmed down somewhat, she switches their positions so she’s sitting and he’s on top of her lap, pressing his pussy down onto her thigh. Almost instantly there’s wetness coating the area. She likes it, how much easier it is to manhandle — (womanhandle, the jokey part of her brain says) — him now that he weighs less.
“Let’s put your new capacity for multiple orgasms to good use.”
He catches on quickly, slings his arms around her shoulders for leverage and starts riding her thigh. Steph pushes it against him in a rhythm, backwards and forwards, grinding his clit and vulva hard against her. His hips are rotating like there’s a dildo on her leg, which is getting turned into a damn slip ‘n slide, same as her panties.
Unable to stop herself, she gropes his plump ass with her hand, firmly squeezing the flesh. It’s completely self indulgent, but Tim doesn’t seem to mind; his eyes are shut tight and his mouth is hanging open, puffy, and fuck, he looks so good like this.
“God, I really want to fuck you.” She babbles. “Like, with a fake cock. Or if I get hit with magic too, maybe a real one. Do you want that? Want me to fuck you?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” He chants, hoarse, his head thrown back.
“I wanna come in you, like you come in me. Stretch you so good, fill you up—“
This orgasm comes even quicker than the first one, and illuminated with insight from her own experiences, she can tell by the way he shudders that it’s not as strong as the first one — but that doesn’t mean much. The look on his face is like he’s ascended to another plane of existence.
He slips off of her lap and falls against the sheets. Gradually, his chest rises less frequently and his breathing returns to a normal sequence.
Steph tucks a clump of loose hairs behind his ear and looks at the clock. Without needing to ask, she knows he would say this transformation was well worth it.
“It’s almost time for patrol. Wanna go find Tiresias?” She asks.
A beat of silence, then Tim smiles, in the way where he’s preparing for her to laugh.
“Well, maybe I can wait a little longer.”