Pillow 18 - Batman: Arkham Heart

(Batman into woman-TG)*

Arkham.

An ancient gothic labyrinth transformed into an asylum for the criminally insane.

Deranged villains, victims of their own fears, monsters corrupted by their own power, a superstitious, cowardly lot… but sometimes just misunderstood victims of their own egos and shortcomings.

Some, if not the majority, shared one trait: They feared bats

That dungeon of danger had become the final destination for many of Gotham city’s criminals thanks to Gotham’s Dark Knight.

The Batman.

Detective, ninja, vigilante, the pinnacle of crime fighting that existed on the line that separated myth from folklore, through which he would often break by descending like a winged shadow over those that planned to do harm.

Yet, living on the edge of a mythos has costs even for the smartest man alive.

On a small island on the coast by the asylum’s coast the lighthouse stands tall alongside an antique Victorian palace.

Arkham’s mansion.

A ruinous building claimed by the rot of time and bindweed. The mansion was technically outside the asylum’s boundaries, it remained behind a fence still silently  beyond the passage of the ages, filled to the brim with tempting mysteries.

Unsolved mysteries that might have never received satisfying answers.

Batman tried to solve it once and had been paying the toll since.

Too proud to ask for help, but more than capable of keeping it a secret, the Dark Knight had been trying for several years to understand the nature of his burden and cleanse himself of it.

Nothing had worked.

He hadn’t even been able to pinpoint when it happened.

At first he thought it had to be connected with the moon, but over and over again any hypothesis he theorised was proven wrong. It didn’t matter if the moon was full or there was no moon at all, it didn't matter the phase of the moon, or the month, week, day or hour.

Once in every while, when the whims of the mansion called for it, Batman would be called to the building and whether he wanted to or not, he would answer the call.

Such as on that cold October night.

A caped shadow arrived at the lighthouse island, silent as a mute ghost in a graveyard. With determination the dark crusader climbed the rusted fence surrounding Arkham’s mansion, ignoring the many signs hanging from the mesh warning about the mundane dangers of a ruinous building.

He climbed the stairs and before reaching the top the large double doors screeched and opened, welcoming the man as if the mansion was waiting for him.

As if the mansion was his home.

Batman stopped at the doorway, clenching his fists. The lower part of his face wasn’t covered by his pointed ear cowl in the guise of a bat and his mouth showed nothing but anger, but the shadows of the mansion called him, reclaimed his presence and subservience, and there was nothing he could do to fight against that call.

The vigilante took a step into the darkness and was engulfed by it.

His boots resounded down the empty cavernous hallway.

There were large bay windows down both sides of the hall from which the asylum’s silhouette could be seen beyond the tree line of the mansion's wild garden, ragged curtains that danced in the moonlight, a thin layer of dust covering the floor.

When Batman reached the center of the hall, in front of the imposing staircase that led to the upper levels of the mansion, the doors slammed behind him loudly.

The Dark Knight stood silently in the penumbra cast by the moon.

The lighthouse’s light shone in the distance every few minutes, highlighting the tall imposing figure of the sinister hero, a figure feared everywhere in Gotham, and in many other parts of the world… but not in the mansion…

Laughter echoed around the walls, a laugh that could only belong to the most posh, annoying and lush of countesses.

A spine chilling laugh that made Batman grit his teeth.

“Welcome back!” the countess’ voice echoed with smug dominance. “Dear Batmaid, we have missed you so, so much!”

Batman embraced himself, getting ready for what was to come, but despite having suffered it so many times already, despite his decades of experience, knowledge and training, he was never ready.

The dust vibrated around his boots, swirled and rose to surround him.

Every single piece of tech on his suit was completely, impotently, useless against the curse that reigned in his existence.

“It must be sooooooo tiresome,” continued the countess. “Going around, pretending to be some sort of edgy spooky vigilante…!” her chuckle was poisonous.

“At least you could have the decency to shut up…!” Batman groaned.

The dusty whirlwind around him rose rapidly as it gained height around the hero. It began to tear apart whole pieces of his gear... the cape, his belt, one of the boots… they floated in the dust, spinning around him…

The faster it got the more naked he became.

His pectorals were revealed when the bat-symbol on his chest was ripped away, his arms fully visible when he lost his gauntlets… his penis sprang free when all that remained of his suit was the cowl…

Batman’s cock was erect.

“Tell me, Batmaid, are you even able to pleasure that cat-lady friend of yours anymore? After all these years are you even able to get hard as a man outside of your metamorphosis? Maybe we should train you in the art of licking, that way you could give that cat’s pussy some pleasure…!”

“SHUT UP!”

The cowl was destroyed.

The man behind the mask was nude and helpless against his fate. Many in Gotham would kill and in fact had killed to know who the Batman was, but neither the countess, nor the mansion, had much, if any, interest in that regard.

Whether he was Bruce Wayne or Bruno Diaz mattered little, because inside that building he was just Batmaid.

Faster and faster the dust span, in that magical tornado his gear began to be reformed and reshaped. The wind reached its peak, Batman held his breath and he felt, once again, just like every other time, his feet losing contact with the floor as he was lifted by the curse.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarg!”

The magical pressure made it hard to breathe, his toes curled.

In a similar way to how her gear was being changed, his flesh also began to shift.

He curled his toes as his muscles fluctuated under the skin, bones began to snap, his temperature increased. His hair began to lengthen, stretched into a silky brunette mane that flowed down his shoulders.

Nails grew longer on the hands, nipples stiffened on his chest as the meat around them began to swell. A breathless gasp when hips cracked and butt plumped and rounded.

Batman was becoming shorter, softer, losing both body hair and muscular definition.

Batman was becoming feminine.

The countess laughed.

“Perhaps the best solution would be for you to start dating one of your boy wonders, I’m sure any of them would love to have such a petite and dedicated lady as their girlfriend!”

HIs scrotum tingled and the Batman’s penis began to gradually shrink at a torturous pace.

“I’m not petite…!” the hero whined in the midst of the dust hurricane. “Shut up! Shut up…! Shut up…!” his voice was almost a crying sob, losing authority or menace for a more tender ring.

Smaller, younger looking, womanly.

The changes rached his face, the hard manly look was remodeled and repurposed. Whilst a few minor details remain, such as a slightly similar chin or the blue eyes, the rest was warped to match the woman that hid in his heart.

Juicer lips, tinier nose, thinner eyebrows…

Once again, just as every other cursed night when he was claimed by the mansion, the threshold was crossed.

The line at which the man in Batman became questionable and not because he was more of a bat, but because he was less of a man. After having crossed that line so many times throughout the years, having kept this secret to preserve a semblance of dignity, the hero had realized that it was becoming easier to reach that threshold.

A frightening thought, one that the Batman caused himself.

Scary… but so sweetly alluring...

As if her body wanted to distill the purest form of truth.

There was a woman in the middle of the magical dust now, a short young woman with perky breasts, fair skin and long hair, blushing with guilt and pleasure, moaning softly.

At her crotch the remains of a dwindling penis trembled.

The countess teasingly gave one last twist to the humiliation.

“It must be hard, isn’t it?” she said, pretending to be gentle. “Having to hang out with all those actual superheroes, beings with actual power… Having to put on such a mock show as the friend of the Man of Steel, the strongest man in the world, as if you two were equal… You know what will happen if one day you ignore the call, you will change all the same, but without a way back… and everybody would know that you are no knight, but just a pansy sissy girly maid…!”

Batman’s body sucked her ballsack up to form her ovaries, she groaned and moaned, so near to the sweet conclusion of the metamorphosis.

“I am not a disgrace…!” she babbled. “I am… I am vengeance! I am... the night! I am…!” she came as her tiny penis melted as her orgasms and her tender vaginal lips formed.”Batmaid!”

Fully female, she shook in pleasure mid air. The dust made her reformed gear fly towards her body… Bra, panties, fishnet stockings… the dark coloured maids uniform with it’s wide skirt, long black boots… a tiara made from the cowl that still had a pair of pointy ears… her long hair tied up, dark makeup on her face and nails...

With a loud orgasmic shout the dust blew away and the Batmaid fell, landing on the floor.

A superhero landing that showed off her panties.

She remained in that pose with her eyes closed, still enjoying the wetness of her pussy and the pleasurable chill down her spine. Her knowledge and expertise reconfigured to be the perfect servant.

A clapping made her eyelids open.

“Come on dear, you have already been lazy enough, we have a hell of a party tonight and you need to get the dining room ready! There will be some demons, maybe I should sell you to one of them if you are going to be a slob!”

Batmaid stood up, nodded.

“Yes, mistress...” she answered with feeble servitude.

One of the hall’s side doors opened and the diligent maid moved in that direction, ready to do her best, because at least while she worked she didn’t have to worry about that shard of Arkham stuck in her heart...