I hope you all had a Happy New Year!
Ours was simple– ZoomBoy went to a friends and Squish stayed with Mate and I, watched comforting television, drank sparkling cider, and watched the ball drop. Happy New Year!
But sometimes, having an uneventful holiday is the best thing in the world–and in this case, I had enough time to look at Pinterest, and saw a fan-art picture for this stunning plot bunny.
The picture was Superman, holding a female Batman. What if Bruce Wayne was female?
Well, I could either do this AU–but I sort of like my Batman with a penis–or I could do it IU, and figure out what he’d do if he were, temporarily, without one.
Warning– this is gonna be hella sexual and there’s girl parts. Hide your eyes now if that’s a problem, cause I’m goin’ in!
Batman’s Hot Cousin
The change was in the DNA– they figured that out–and it was degrading, which was a relief. This mishegas, no matter how upsetting, really was only temporary. A couple of weeks, a month at the most, and a night of sweating, fever, some complications, and then everything would be normal.
Oh how Clark prayed for normal.
He hadn’t even been there when it happened–he’d been handling a Luthor-corp reactor meltdown when he got the call from Diana.
“Clark? What’s your status?”
“70% contained. I can’t leave yet.”
“Roger that. Let us know if you need help, and let us know when things are 100%.”
Superman didn’t stop this heat-gaze arc-welding, but he did detect a slight uncertainty in Diana’s voice. “Diana? Is there something I should know?”
A slight hesitation. “Yes, but it is nothing–believe me–nothing that won’t wait until you’re done.”
Uh-oh. “Bruce? Bruce, are you on com?” Arc-weld, arc-weld, arc-weld–oh! Hey! There was Metallo, Luthor’s poor deluded machine, jumping in to help. Apparently nuclear detonation was bad for everybody, right?
“He’s fine, Master Clark,” Alfred said, and only years of discipline kept Clark from widening his eyes and searing a hole through a melting down nuclear reactor.
“Alfred, where are you?”
“Back at the mansion, with Master Bruce. Please don’t concern yourself. It just needs a bit of explaining, that’s–“
“I’m fine.” It was a woman’s voice.
Superman took two deep breaths and didn’t stop arc-welding. “Who the fuck are–“
“Everybody off coms,” said the woman, and there was a decided chorus of moans as the buzzing in his ear shut down.
“Who are you–“
“Clark are you going to die if we surprise you?”
Clark took a look at the reactor. 80% done. “No, but I’m still needed on site.” Whoever this is, she knew her priorities.
“Then we will solve the mystery as soon as you’re done. Fly to the mansion, ignore Diana, and you and Bruce can talk.”
“Yes ma’am–how should I address–“
“Over and out.”
Who in the fuck was on the com?
* * *
Bruce grunted and activated everybody else on his com. “You had to do that while he was working?” he demanded, and for once Diana sounded sheepish.
“Bruce, you have to admit, it’s imp–“
“Am I dead?”
And now she sounded ashamed. “No.”
“Am I mortally wounded, with only moments to live?”
“No.”
“Am I in any sort of situation in which seeing me right now can fix anything?”
“No, Bruce. You’re right. We’re sorry.”
“I know this is hysterical–” In the background he heard Hal and Barry snicker. “Yes, guys. It’s hilarious and fuck off. But it’s not… life threatening. Please remember that when you want to dick with him, okay?”
“Yes, Bruce,” she said, unusually humble. “It… it felt like an emergency.”
Bruce looked down at himself as he sat on the exam table, a bath towel pulled tightly around his chest. “It’s not an emergency. It’s not a bomb. It’s not the end of the world. Jesus, Diana–they’re tits. You’ve got a pair and we’re all fine with that.” He accidentally brushed a nipple and a major sexual shockwave coursed through his body. “It’s just going to take some getting used to,” he muttered. “How long did you say I have again?”
“Probably a month. Can you handle things at Wayne Industries?”
Bruce pulled out his palm unit and scanned his fingerprints, palm prints, and eyeball, just to make sure. “Yes. I’ve got breasts and a vagina, but my identity is intact. I’m just…” He studied his profile in the mirror in the infirmary, noting the thinner chin, the slender neck, the gamine features underneath his standard short haircut. “Darned fetching,” he said grimly. Female Bruce looked to be in her late thirties–elegant, and probably stunning in evening wear, not that she’d ever be out in public.
Male Bruce was not particularly attracted to her–but then, he didn’t like his masculine features either. Clark’s wide-eyed farm boy looks were more his style.
Diana’s laughter on the other end of the com was actually a relief. “If you don’t send me a picture I’m doing to die of curiosity,” she confessed, and Bruce was not immune to humor.
He sent her a selfie. “If I see that anywhere but your com, I’m sabotaging your jet,” he promised direly, but it was too late.
“Hello, pretty lady!” Hal whistled. “What do you think, Bar?”
“She’s a little old for me, but very nice.”
“You think you can outrun me but you can’t,” Bruce threatened, and Diana laughed.
“And he definitely can’t outrun me. Be respectful, youngster.”
“Fine, fine. I’m going to go look at my girlfriend who is my age.” The other voices faded and it was just Diana again.
“He’s almost done with his assignment,” she said quietly. “Look– I get what you said. Not life threatening. But your relationship has had tremendous ripples to the Justice League in the past. Many of them good, but not all. This–this isn’t going to be easy on you two.”
“He’s a big boy,” Bruce said, not wanting her to worry. “I mean… a month. I’ll have my own body in a month, right?”
Her hesitation was not promising. “This thing the Joker did–it looks like you inhaled a virus that altered your chromosomal DNA. Bruce, if you recover from this–when you recover from this–it’s going to work like you’re withdrawing from a drug that’s been keeping you alive. You might die in recovery, do you understand that?”
Bruce grunted. “I have better than even chances of not,” he told her. “And we’ll cross that bridge when–“
“I can replicate the virus,” she told him bluntly. “I’m not so sure about a cure.”
“So… you can keep me a woman–and healthy–for the rest of my life but you can’t change me back?”
She let out a breath. “That might be the shape of things.”
Unbidden, Bruce raised a hand to cup his breast, rubbing his thumb experimentally across the nipple again. Wowza. “Well, not that it’s not a nice shape,” he said, “but I’m pretty sure I want my old one back.”
“I’ll look into it. We’ve got some time before the virus degrades so much that you have no choice. In the meantime–“
“Shit!” They both said together.
“He’s on his way!” she told him frantically.
“He’s here,” Bruce said, grimacing under Clark’s exasperated glare. “Batman out.”
“What in the actual hell?” Clark was jus staring at him as he hovered, his farm-boy blue eyes bigger than should be legal.
“I’m sorry she panicked you.” Bruce clenched the towel around his breasts tighter. “I… I went running through a chemical plant–there was a blue cloud, I made the mistake and breathed in. When I came to…” Well, Nightwing and Batgirl had been standing over him, breathers in place, asking him what the hell he’d been thinking.
And he’d been down with cramps and nausea for the rest of the morning, which was a good thing, because listening to Dick’s bitching in peak condition might have prompted him to fratricide.
Finally, after a final bout of vomiting, he’d awakened with only Barbara in attendance, and she was drawing blood and having a freaked out conversation with Diana and Bruce was in one of her old nightgowns from back in the day when they’d shared a bed.
God.
He’d come down to the control center for more tests and then Diana had tried that ill-advised contact. Looking at Clark now, he was guiltily glad that the poor man had gotten some warning.
“This… this… what are we supposed to do with this?” His arms were flailing and Bruce smiled a little.
“I… I mean, you like women, right?”
“But you’re not one!”
“Well I’m still me!” Bruce felt absurdly hurt. “What–you’re suddenly going to move out now and move back in when I’ve got my own dick?”
“Were you fucking me with someone else’s?”
Augh! “No! I was just… you don’t have to look at me like I have the plague! It’s just… breasts! Tits! Vagina! It’s not a bomb!”
Clark’s lips quirked, and Bruce glared at him. “I don’t know. I, uh, haven’t been there yet. Maybe it will make me explode?”
Bruce buried his face in his hands and laughed and cried at the same time. What in the hell– what in the actual hell were they supposed to do with this? Jesus, he wasn’t even him–
Clark’s hands on his pulled him from the brink of hysteria. “Bruce?”
“What?”
“You’re a very pretty girl.”
“Fuck off.”
“Well, maybe we should get to know each other first.”
“We do know each other! We’ve been living together for two years and flirting for ten years and–“
Clark’s mouth on his took his breath away–and pulled his brain out of the death spiral of gender and confusion and all of the freaking out he’d been trying not to do because–as he firmly believed–having tits was not the end of the fucking world!
Clark pulled away and Bruce realized that his…. his nether-regions ached. The ache was familiar–the location was… not.
“What?” Clark asked.
“My… uh…” Bruce wiggled his bottom. “I’m wet,” he said baldly. “That’s… that’s unusual and now I’m confused. And horny. And you’re wearing your uniform and… I mean, not that I haven’t noticed it before, but… you look really good in your uniform and–“
“And you’d like to know how I look out of it?” Clark said, a gentle smile on his face.
“This is not the time!” Bruce wailed, and then covered his face again.
“Why–what else do we do at the end of the day?”
“Well, usually I top,” Bruce said bitterly.
Clark’s smile went wicked. “Maybe not this time.”
Bruce let out a sigh. “Diana,” he said, tapping his ear. “I do believe we need to go off-coms.”
“Try not to let your vagina blow up the Justice League,” Diana said dryly.
“I make no promises.” Because his unfamiliar nether-regions were… were hot and achy and needy, and Clark Kent was stripping off his uniform while still in mid-air, and…
And just like when he had a penis, his mouth was dry and his brain was toast and the world was screaming madly to a halt.
“Good boy,” Diana said softly, and the com in his ear went dead.
Clark glided over to where he was sitting, six-feet-plus of naked floating alien, looking at Bruce with such compassion, Bruce’s exploding lady parts turned to melted wax.
“This,” he said, his breath and heartbeat unsteady, “is going to be very interesting.”
“God, I hope so,” Clark said. “For however long it lasts.”
* * *
Okay– full on sexy times tomorrow. I hope you enjoy!
