Batman Young Lady
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Batman: Young Miss free porn video
Batman: Young Miss
The intercom buzzed. Alfred. Bruce Wayne wiped the tears from his
eyes, suddenly aware that he'd been crying. He cleared his throat and
answered. "Yes?"
"I'm sorry to bother you, Master Wayne, but you have an urgent call
from Tyler Horatio."
"Buzz it through."
The phone next to his bed rang. Bruce answered, one arm still across
his small breasts. "Yes?"
"Bruce. You have to get down here right away. Carstairs has called an
emergency meeting of the board. He's looking to oust you."
"On my way," Bruce said, hanging up, mind racing. Shit. Carstairs was
a hedge fund parasite, the kind of investor who bought into healthy
companies, bled them dry and then cast off the husk. Bruce had seen
this coming months ago, but he'd been so preoccupied with his changes
he hadn't taken any action. Of course, he thought, this has to happen
right when I'm having my period.
He put it out of his mind, went into the bathroom, removed his tampon
and sat down to pee, squirming as the cold toilet seat met his behind.
He quickly showered, trying to ignore the feeling of the hot water
against his soft breasts, then quickly put his feminine protection in
place, wrapped an ace bandage around his chest to flatten his breasts
and dressed.
The meeting was terrible. Bruce was unprepared, and it quickly became
clear that Carstairs' strategy was to turn the board members against
him by showing them he was weak. Each time Bruce tried to defend the
companies' performance, Carstairs shouted him down. "That's a bunch of
bull. A bunch of bull. In this economy, our growth is pathetic,
anemic. We have to shed all those slow growth, manufacturing concerns
and make the stock jump."
"Well," Bruce started to answer, shaken, "people would lose their jobs
and I'm..."
"People lose their jobs. That's what happens. This board is charged
to defend the interests of the shareholders, not a bunch of overpaid,
union drones."
"We've done pretty good?"
'Pretty good!" Carstairs howled. "Are you a business man or a teen-
ager?"
The words stung. A cramp, and Bruce felt his menstrual flow. His head
ached, swimming in a confusion of female hormones and he'd forgotten to
take his Midol. Looking around at the stunned, curious faces, he felt
his face growing red, his eyes stung, and just for a moment he thought
he was going to cry, but then Tyler spoke up.
"Carstairs, you're nothing but a goddamn white collar criminal, and
everyone in the room knows it."
"Mr. Horatio, let me caution..." Carstairs lawyer started, smirking,
but Tyler turned on him. "Shut the hell up you two-bit legal slut.
You're no better."
"I move, right now, that we put Carstairs' proposal to a vote."
"Second," Wayland Grimsely said from his seat in the corner. Bruce
smiled. An old friend of his father's.
"Just wait a damn minute," Carstairs said, but more quietly. He could
feel the room turning against him.
"We have a motion and a second. By show of hands."
It was eight to three, with one abstention. Carstairs' two votes were
from reps loyal to him he'd forced onto the board. Bruce smiled.
"Thank you," he said, feeling himself choking up all over again.
Carstairs' lawyer shuffled papers. "This vote will not stand. We'll
see you in court, and the?"
"Shut up," Carstairs said, forcing a smile. "It's fine. A vote, fair
and square. I trust in the judgment of the board and would never
challenge it. That would be coarse."
Smart man, Bruce thought. He knows this is just one round and doesn't
want to alienate the rest of the board. Bruce stood and offered his
hand to Carstairs', but the bulky man pushed past him and shook hands
with Tyler instead. "You're a man to be reckoned with," he said. "A
man," and now he glanced at Bruce, "a man worthy of respect."
The meeting ended, and Bruce found himself lingering in the empty room
with Tyler.
"Thanks," he said awkwardly. "You really saved me."
"And I'll do it again when he comes back," Tyler said. "I'll always be
there for you, Bruce. You can count on me." As they left the room,
Tyler held the door and, placing his hand on the small of Bruce Wayne's
back, guided him through the door. "Your older than me but you look
younger," Tyler said. "What's your secret?"
Bruce lowered his eyes and smiled, his cheeks flushing. "I surround
myself with good people."
With that, Bruce hurried off, eager to change his tampon.
In the safety of his office, Bruce kicked off his shoes and dropped
into his big, leather desk chair with a sigh. He looked at the
ceiling, his whole body flush with a sense of warmth and?what??it was
almost like he was filled with bubbles. He put his hands to his cheeks
and giggled.
He'd dodged a bullet, but one thing was clear: he couldn't function as
Bruce Wayne, not for much longer. He would need to appoint someone to
stand in for him. But another thought was creeping through his brain.
What if Miss Sarah hadn't been hired by an enemy of Batman, but of
Bruce Wayne? Carstairs acted like he knew. What if it had been part
of his plan to take over Wayne Industries? It would explain why he'd
given in, why he was going to just bide his time. Because he knew that
Bruce Wayne was slowly disappearing, slowly becoming a young woman.
He had a month, he figured. And if he hadn't stopped his
transformation, he would have to step aside. In the meantime, he would
need to put things in motion. He called his secretary into the room.
She was wearing a plum skirt and a white blouse with a Peter Pan
collar. Pretty little earrings. "Those earrings are really cute,"
Bruce said without thinking.
Janice gave him a look, sitting down. "Well, thank you," she said.
Bruce decided to try and just pretend it hadn't happened, instead
starting to dictate. When he finished a few hours later, he felt
exhausted. The girl was strong, and his mind was on earrings and
skirts, blouses and shoes. He struggled with it half way home, then
turned around and headed back into the city, stopped outside Saks, and
sighed. He couldn't go in there and shop. He had more important
things to do, and besides, it would be embarrassing. No. He was a man,
and he would remain....
Oh. My. God. That little angora sweater in the window. With a giggle
and went into the store.
Bruce Wayne found himself in the jewelry department, excitedly looking
over bracelets and earrings, delicate little necklaces and anklets,
finally settling on a necklace, a bracelet and earrings, all pretty and
silver, with diamonds.
"She must be very special," the salesgirl said.
"We had a fight," Bruce said. "I'm making it up to her."
Outside, in his car, he couldn't wait to slip on the bracelet and the
necklace, to hold the earrings up to his ears and watch them sparkle as
he turned his head this way and that. And, much to his surprise, as he
looked at them, the girl seemed to fade and relax, and he found himself
sitting there, a man again, feeling silly.
I can calm her, he realized. If I indulge her and let he express her
feminine urges, she relaxes, and I am in control. It gave him an idea,
and he called his realtor on the way home. "Yes, a penthouse with a
skylight on a lesser traveled street. Any price. I need it fast.
And, this needs to be discreet."
Hours later, he sat, exhausted, in front of his computer. He'd finally
settled on just the perfect couch, and a set of peach curtains that
would be adorable in the little apartment he was setting up for... her.
It would be a place he could free her, let her roam and breath, so that
when he needed to be a man, when those times came, he would be able to
do what had to be done.
He cycled through all the pretty things he'd found for her, his hand on
his chin, and then a thought crossed his mind: Miss Sarah. Bruce.
You have to find her. Get her to stop what she's done to you.
He sighed. Too tired. He would rest now. Tomorrow would be a big
day. And then he would get on the case.
The cameras whirled. Flashes flashed. Bruce stood at the podium,
reading his statement. "And so, with my decision to take a temporary
leave of absence in order to focus on my charity work, I am naming
Tyler Horatio as CEO of Wayne Enterprises." He glanced over at Tyler,
whose mouth dropped open in stunned surprise. Bruce knew he should
have told him in advance, but he thought it would so fun to surprise
him.
The cameras all turned to Tyler, who quickly hid his surprise and
headed up to the podium. He took Bruce's hand into both of his for a
double-fisted hand shake, then turned to the mic and began to speak.
Bruce stood behind him, beaming. He was so confident and sure of
himself!
After, they gathered in Bruce's office. "Drink?" Bruce asked.
"Scotch," Tyler said. "I need something to calm my nerves after that
little surprise you pulled on me."
Bruce looked back and saw Tyler smiling. He felt relieved and smiled
back. "You should have seen your face."
He was relieved and poured a scotch for Tyler, almost some wine for
himself, but thought better of it. He needed to keep up his act, so he
poured a scotch for himself as well. Tyler took the glass and they
made a quick toast, some small talk. Finally, after an awkward pause,
Tyler looked Bruce in the eyes and said, "so what's the real reason for
your leave of absence?"
"I won't lie to you," Bruce said. "Which is why I will just say it is
a private matter, and I hope to have it resolved very soon. Speaking
of which, I really should be going."
"Of course," Tyler said. As Bruce stood, they shook hands, but as
Bruce started to turn away Tyler grabbed him by the forearm and pulled
him back. He was standing very close. Invading Bruce's space, and he
found himself getting all tingly. "Bruce. I want to thank you for the
trust you've put in me. And I want to assure you I will do whatever it
takes to protect you and your interests."
Bruce felt his face grow flush as a rush of strange emotions swept
through him. He could feel his nipples harden, and he pulled himself
from Tyler's grip, just a little more slowly than he should have.
Their eyes were locked, still. Bruce couldn't look away. "Thank," he
said, hoarsely, his voice cracking just a bit. "I really appreciate
you being there for me."
With that he forced himself to turn away, but just before he left the
office, standing halfway out the door, he turned, did a little waist
high wave and almost whispered, "bye."
In his private elevator, heading down to the parking garage, he
collapsed against the wall, knees together, flush with embarrassment.
His breasts were driving him crazy, and in fact his whole body was
aroused. He felt feverish, confused. An image of Tyler flashed
through his mind, himself opening his shirt to show Tyler his breasts,
the two of them in bed, entwined.... he pushed the thoughts from his
mind, tried to think about baseball, started thinking about shoes
instead....
The elevator reached the ground floor. Bruce held the door closed,
breathed deeply for a moment, felt himself growing calmer. Miss Sarah.
He put the back of his hand to his forehead, the other to his cheek.
He had to find Miss Sarah. Time was running out.
Back at the Bat Cave, he sat down, struggling to keep thoughts of Tyler
from his boy-crazy, teen-aged girl's mind. He started entering data.
Everything he could think of that might help him find Miss Sarah. It
couldn't have been more easy. The address where they'd trapped him
appeared, along with aliases, off-shore accounts, and, of course, the
new address where she operated, behind the guise of being a fortune
teller. Batman sighed. This was it. All he had to do now was go out
there and make her, one way or another, undue what she had done to him.
Make him a man.
But just then, a call came in from the Justice League. Bruce popped a
couple Midol, put some more into his utility belt, which also now
contained some spare feminine protection. He had always put the need
for others first, and now would be no exception. First, he would take
care of the emergency with the Justice League. And then, Miss Sarah.
Two weeks passed. Three. Every day, something else came up. Solomon
Grundy. Scarecrow. A missing child. Threats against the Mayor. Two
Face. On days when things were quiet, Bruce closed on his new condo,
and has the remodeling done. Of course, he wouldn't need it once he
took care of Miss Sarah, but he needed it, he told himself. He had to
have it, to charge up his masculinity as much as possible. And so he
found himself in his new home one night, the smell of new carpet and
paint in the air, wearing a padded bra and a pair of Juicy Couture boy
shorts, curled up on the couch painting his nails while watching
Twilight. The girl in him was thrilled. Delighted. He knew that he
would have his third period soon, and he figured a few days indulging
the girl, then he would have his period, and once that was clear, Bruce
Wayne would be ready to take back his manhood.
The man, for now, had been pushed into the background, and he was
disgusted. Twilight? Stupid. The bra he didn't even want to think
about, nor the bubble bath, and the shaving that had left his legs so
soft and smooth.
He and Tyler talked three or four times a week. They had been texting
every day. Bruce managed to control himself, not falling into some
kind of teen-age reverie again, but as soon as he hung up the phone he
would usually squeal with excitement and let the girl have free reign
with her thoughts and fantasies-- mostly just kissing and heavy
petting, humiliating for Bruce, but at least the persona they had
implanted into him was still... innocent. Worse was when he found
himself indulging girlish fantasies about cooking for Tyler, doing his
laundry. He even caved in several times and spent a few hours gushing
over bridal and wedding planning websites.
He ordered a lot of clothes and jewelry and spent hours just trying
them on, walking around his house in cocktail dresses and evening
gowns, putting on little fashion shows for his cats. It drove him
crazy that he couldn't go out and show off his clothes, but one look in
the mirror and even the girl would reject the idea, as he still looked
like a thick, muscular man. Sometimes, the sight of him would send him
out in a fit of feminine fury hunting down a few small-time hoods to
give them the beat downs they deserved, for all outward appearances the
same old Batman, but one now fueled by girlish rage at being trapped in
body that looked like a man. He would stand over their supine bodies
and think, "how does it feel to get beat up by a girl?"
He made appearances at the Bat Cave and Wayne Manor. Just counting the
days until he could finally take care of things. He avoided Robin as
much as possible. He'd felt... strange.... the last time he talked to
him, and he feared another embarrassing episode. It wasn't the same as
with Tyler, though. He never thought about being Robin's wife. He
just thought about kissing him.
Which was gross.
The changes came more rapidly than Batman had expected. With the onset
of PMS, he retreated to his girly hideout to let it pass in private.
It was harder than the first two times. The cramps were worse and more
frequent, as was his menstrual flow. The changes to his body were...
shocking. Muscle disappeared. Soft round curves replaced it. His
arms shrunk, though not as slender as a girl's, they were much smaller
and weaker than they had been. His waist grew trim, hips rounded....
his face softened, his eyes growing wider, his nose smaller, his lips
more full. And his breasts! They positively swelled, from the tiny
pre-teen little boobies to full, rounded B cups.
Standing in front of the mirror in a tank-top and a pair of daisy
dukes, he looked at his slender, curvy figure and his sweet, girlish
face and he realized he was out of time. Other than those who knew him
well, no one would believe this was Bruce Wayne. With the right
clothes, he could still pass as a man, or at least a boy, but not Bruce
Wayne. He stood there with a hand on his hip, biting his lower lip. I
have to tell Robin. It's time. He pivoted, looking at his profile.
The round rear, swell of breasts. But how? Should he just show up
like this and say, "hey, Robin, I'm a girl now?"
Or go there dressed as a man, and pull open my top?
And then the call came in. Joker was on the loose. All other thoughts
fled from Batman's mind. His suit, with the external armor, would hide
his body. He would just concentrate on making sure he spoke in a lower
register, and when it was over with the Joker, he would tell Robin
everything.
But things were to turn out very differently.
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Bang. A flash. Batman found himself tossed through the air, felt
himself slam against something very hard and very solid, and then crash
face first onto the ground, a jolt of pain coming from his soft
breasts. Should have seen that coming... he thought, struggling to his
feet, stunned, blinded by the flash.
"What's this," he heard the Joker say slyly from somewhere.
Batman's vision started to clear, and he could see the Joker sauntering
toward him, spinning a diamond tip cane, licking his lips and staring
with fascination at Batman's chest. Batman looked down at saw that the
explosion had shredded his uniform: his round, white right breasts
hung out and with a shriek he threw his arms across his chest and,
knees together, cowered. "Stay away," he shouted, his voice sliding
into a higher register.
The Joker started laughing, quietly at first, then louder and louder,
as he stepped closer and closer to Batman, his face twisted in a
leering grin.
Batman backed away, coming up against a wall. "No..." he said. "I'll
scream."
"I know," the Joker said, reaching forward and wrestling Batman's arms
to his sides, pushing his against the wall. The Joker stepped forward,
his own flat, hard chest now pressed against Batman's soft breasts, and
he pushed Batman to his knees. Batman felt tears pooling in his eyes,
a soft sob escaped from his lips. The Joker reached down and cupped
Batman's breast, giving it a squeeze. He took Batman's chin in his
other hand and titled his head back.
"My... my... but someone has out joked The Joker. What a lovely,
darling little thing they have made of my enemy." He let his gaze
fall further down Batman's body. "I wonder what else they have given
you?" He asked, letting his hand slide between Batman's breasts, and
down his stomach... down toward....
Batman screamed then, screamed as loud and as hard as he could,
spinning away from The Joker, blinding running. He felt something slam
into the back of his head, fell, and then The Joker was on top of him,
pinning him on his back, laughing while Batman kicked and slapped....
"You're so weak and vulnerable," Joker said. "So frail." He grabbed
Batman's slender wrists and pinned his arms over his head. He was
straddling Batman's body now, and paused for a moment to briefly kiss
him on the breast, right below his nipple.
Batman hissed. "Stop it!"
The Joke, keeping Batman's arm's pinned, felt the thrill of power go
through him as he held the woman who was his greatest enemy powerless.
"How does it feel to be so weak and vulnerable, girl?"
Batman thrashed, trying to throw the Joker off him, and then screamed
again, this time in feminine frustration and... fear. The Joker kept
Batman pinned with one arm, and let them other slide down along
Batman's taught stomach, stopped to caress it, and then sliding, just a
little, down the top of his pants.
"You wouldn't," Batman said, no longer struggling, terrified,
powerless in his enemy's arms.
"Are you joking?" The Joker said, letting his hand creep further down
toward Batman's sex, creeping just under the top of his panties.
And then Robin was there, his eyes hard and cold, delivering a smashing
blow that sent The Joker flying across the room, where Batgirl
delivered a crushing kick to his solar plexus that sent him crumpling
to the floor.
"Robin!" Batman said through his tears, still speaking in his woman's
voice, and he threw his arms around his sidekick and wept into his
shoulder.
"It's okay," Robin said, holding the woman in his arms. "It's okay
now." He glanced at Batgirl, whose own stunned features matched his
own. She came up and patted Bruce gently on the shoulder.
And then, not knowing what else to do, Robin lifted Batman's weeping
figure into his arms, and carried him to safety.
Jane
- 08.05.2020
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