Batman Multiverse TG 7
Your hands move to your utility belt of their own accord, fingers tracing over the transformed equipment. Where smoke pellets once resided, there are now glitter bombs in purple and green. The grappling gun has become a compact with a telescoping lipstick tube. Explosive batarangs are now press-on nails with tiny charges embedded in the tips.
A giggle bubbles up from your throat. You can't stop it. It's high and musical and utterly wrong, but it feels right somehow. "Oh my god, Puddin', look at this!" You hold up a tube of what was once a rebreather. "It's pepper spray disguised as mascara! That's actually pretty clever!"
The Joker's exhausted expression shifts to curiosity. He leans against a crystalline pillar, clearly still recovering from the transformation.
"You know what would be totally hilarious?" The words spill out before you can stop them, your voice bright with enthusiasm that makes your actual consciousness recoil. "That Batman over there—" you point to a cell containing a stocky, scarred version of yourself, "—you should turn him into a purse! Like, a designer handbag! Can you imagine? All that brooding intensity reduced to carrying lipstick and credit cards?"
The Joker's grin widens. "Go on."
"Or, or, or!" You bounce on your heels, the movement making your skirt flutter. "That one could be a diary! Forced to record all your brilliant plans! Or a stress ball that you squeeze when you're thinking!" Another giggle escapes. "A Batman stress ball!"
"Jokette, you're giving me IDEAS," he purrs, and the sound of approval sends an unwanted warmth through your chest.
You step closer, hips swaying in a way you've never moved before. Your heart pounds as you look up at him through long lashes. When did you start finding his chaos beautiful? When did that manic grin become something that makes your pulse race?
"You look tired, Puddin'," you hear yourself say, voice dropping to something sultry. "Let me help you relax."
Your hands move to the hem of your ridiculously short skirt. Some distant part of you screams in horror, but it's drowned out by the compulsion. You lift the fabric slowly, teasingly, turning to present your backside. The panties underneath are purple satin with a grinning green Joker face printed across the seat, surrounded by yellow 'HA HA HA's.
"You like?" you ask, glancing over your shoulder with a coy smile.