Back at the university, the amulets' effects wear off.

“What an ordeal.” Angela flopped into a seat and rubbed her temples. “I think I would rather live through another explosion than deal with the police interview process afterward.”

“Tell me about it.” Michelle rested one calf on the table, propping her legs apart and rubbing her pussy in full view of her co-workers. “Whatever happened to just letting Batwoman handle it? I could swear the cops think they’re actually investigating a crime, what with how long they grilled us.”

“They are investigating a crime.” Rebecca panted quietly as her bare breasts rubbed against the cold metal table. Her toes curled and her knees trembled on her chair, the only outward signs of the orgasm her fingers were channeling through her clit. “They need all the information they can get.”

“What’s to investigate? Bad guys blow hole in wall, bad guys take valuable artifacts, bad guys show up a few hours later dangling from a streetlight or something. Maybe they have a little bat-shaped note on them. Here are your criminals. Put them in jail. Signed, the Batwoman, XOXO. Like the cops are actually going to follow evidence for a real jury trial? That’s not how Gotham works.”

Angela’s fingers had stopped circling her temples, and now they circled her nipples with equal fervor. “Normally I would support the rule of law, but something about those officers rubbed me the wrong way.”

“I know, right? Like they were undressing us with their eyes.” Michelle snuck a finger deeper and stroked her insides, releasing a long moan before she continued. “I’m sure I have a rack as great as the next collegiate researcher, but I’d appreciate it if the police, of all people, could look me in the face.”

Angela nodded and wriggled her chest. “Agreed. You’d think we were naked or—oh my God!” She curled into a ball, hiding herself behind the table from the neck down. “What did—oh my God, Michelle! Your clothes!”

“Is that it? I swear, if I had a whole conversation with Gotham’s alleged finest and I had ketchup all—shit!” She clapped her legs shut so fast she tumbled from her chair. “My clothes! Your clothes! Why are we naked?!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know! How are—there!” Angela clambered to her shirt and held it tight against her, covering about a single square foot of skin. “Did this happen in the explosion?”

“How?! What, some nude bomb tore the place apart, and we just now noticed?” Michelle skipped her panties entirely, going straight to her skirt to provide maximum modesty. “Shit, maybe it’s a hypnotist? Check your hair for the Mad Hatter’s card thingies!”

“Um…” Rebecca whimpered from under the table, where only the metal slab and her own hands protected her. “D-do you think the police saw?”

Angela looked at Michelle (with only a quick, unintentional glance below the chin) and vice versa. “Were they naked too? I didn’t even notice. The last time I remember wearing clothes is when we put on our gloves, before the amulets came in…”

“Maybe the amulets did it!” Rebecca gasped, reaching for her underwear with her toes and failing wildly. “And those amulets are out there now! What’s going to happen?”

“It’ll be fine.” Michelle stood, wearing only a disheveled skirt and blouse and still by a wide margin the least naked woman in the room. “Whatever’s happening, Gotham’s actual finest will figure it out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely,” she beamed. “Batwoman and her team wouldn’t fall for any weird magic tricks. I’ll bet you money they already have it wrapped up—and they’re fully-clothed, at that.”