Montoya's Apartment

“Mind the step Batgirl,” Renee Montoya said as she led the superheroine down her apartment’s basement’s steps. It had been relatively easy to transport Batgirl from the crime scene, having her hide in the back of her car as she drove her to help with the uniform Condiment King had made a mess of. And of course as bits of Batgirl’s butt bounced from her laying down to hide, the hint of a white waistband visible from the tear in her suit, Renee had to remember to think clean thoughts.

“Gotcha,” Batgirl mumbled as she hated hearing the creaking of the wooden stairs. She had been trained to notice every little noise and to figure what it meant. After her accident Barbara continued to hone that skill. But here, with her costume still soggy from attacks of ketchup and mustard, tried ignoring her training as they ended in the unfinished basement of Montoya’s apartment. A series of washers and dryers against the wall. “These aren’t coin operated, right?”

“A superhero? Worrying about cash?” Montoya asked. “Don’t worry, with the rent I pay it’s an included utility.”

“That’s good I guess,” Batgirl said as she looked at the machines trying to remember what setting you washed spandex in. “Listen, I apologize for this. Normally I’d just…”

“Let the boy toy in blue and black take care of you,” Montoya said as she opened one of the washers. “Listen, it’s your first night back and you don’t want to look like a fool. If it makes you feel better I’m glad that you’re back. Unlike the other Batgirls you at least talk the right amount and don’t scare the shit out of beat cops.”

“Thanks, it’s nice that some people remember m-” Batgirl began before Montoya began removing her black turtleneck, revealing a navy blue sports bra. “What are you doing detective?!”

“I’ve worked a eighteen hour shift dealing with condiment boy and spent the rest of it in the sewers on a wild goose chase for Croc,” Montoya said as she unbuttoned her jeans, revealing a simple pair of white men’s briefs. “I’ve got a t-shirt in that basket over there and a shower waiting for me upstairs. I figure we’re both women, so why should you care if I take a little off.”

“I…guess,” Batgirl mumbled as she stood there as Montoya swiftly took off her bra and briefs, her clothes ending up in one of the machines. “And you’re not…embarrassed?”

“I’m too tired and too proud to be embarrassed, Bats,” Montoya said as she showed off her muscular stomach and calves, her b-cup breasts and trimmed brown bush to the superheroine. “When you’re in a man’s world you got no time to be ashamed of who you are and what you got. Besides, I’m just a beat cop, you’re the superhero. People just looove looking at you.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Batgirl explained as Montoya pulled an oversized Knights jersey over her head, not bothering to put on another pair of underwear. “I mean Wonder Woman, Starfire, even Black Canary. Those are the people people look at.”

“Wonder Woman’s a prude, Starfire an annoying goddess, and Black Canary? I bet she’s not even a real blonde,” Montoya continued. “You’re the girl next door, the bat with frankly, and don’t tell Batwoman this, the finest rear. You should see the boys reference how hot that redheaded Batgirl was.”

“They do?” Batgirl mumbled, a certain warmth beginning to course through her body.

“Absolutely,” Renee said with a smirk as she began to walk up the stairs. “I’m going to take a hot shower now, and I’ll check on you when I get back if you’re still here. This way you can throw…everything in there.” She gestured towards Batgirl’s mask. “There should even be a spare t-shirt if you need cover.”

“Thanks,” Batgirl mumbled as Renee walked up the stairs back to her place, the t-shirt swaying and revealing the bottom of her cheeks as she moved upwards, leaving Batgirl alone.

Batgirl took a deep sigh as she looked around before pulling off her mask, revealing the full messy head of red hair and her face full of freckles as she took a deep sigh. First night back and she had gotten punk’d by Condiment King and had to use the only friend she had on the ****’s washer, seeing more of Montoya than she’d like.

As Barbara blinked to get some of the residual hot sauce her belt was quickly removed and placed on one of the chairs in the basement. As she moved to unzip the back of her suit she noticed a large mirror in the corner, left so tenants could see if there was anything wrong with their current looks. For Barbara she chuckled a little bit. When she last did this she couldn’t help but staring in the mirror. Her tight bottom filled black spandex so well the tabloids paid people to take pictures of her ass dancing in the sky, beating criminals and looking well while doing it. As embarrassed as she was by it, the Gotham Tattler calling her Buttgirl did help with her confidence.

Now as the grey spandex squeezed against her large ass, Barbara couldn’t help but be…underwhelmed. She figured spending time in that chair would have made certain parts of her larger…but she never expected her behind to be so soft and tender. As she pulled down her suit, her skin sticking to the condiment coated fabric she noticed the tear in the side.

“Damn it,” Babs muttered after seeing the tear in the side of her suit. “Do I even remember how to stitch kevlar?”

Aas she bent down to continue peeling the suit off of her, a large amount of cleavage clear from her sports bra, her d sized breasts squeezing together from the sweat and poor fit. She had gotten so used to full cups and even no bras and baggy sweaters that putting a sports bra on felt like a fun new ****.

“Ugh, can’t see,” Barbara muttered as she pulled out her round glasses from her utility belt, being able to see clearly as she stood in front of the mirror in her black sports bra and white nightwing print fullbacks, the little birds darting her rear. She took a look at herself again, noticing every curve, freckle, and mole that wasn’t covered by her underwear. She bit her lip for a moment, in all her time recovering and retraining she hadn’t looked at herself in her full glory while standing.

“It’s just you down here, your costume is going to be in the wash, and you got a shirt if anyone comes knocking down. What’s the worst that could happen Barbara?” She thought to herself as her hands pried her breasts free from their bra prison. They weren’t nearly as perky, but still weren’t sagging, her rosy pink nipples sensitive to the air as they stiffened. Barbara smiled a bit as she felt them in her hands, she had never realized how…mature they had made her look, like someone who knew what they were doing.

Soon the Nightwing panties were swiftly pulled down to her ankles, the veteran heroine stepping out of them and feeling her body. Her stomach soft but strong, and her fingers dancing around the dime sized scar just right of her navel. Normally Barbara would be mortified of it, when Dick and her were having their…fun, she always swore for him to not touch it, as if it was still raw. But here, as she stared at her naked body, she couldn’t help admire how it added to the look of someone who had been through the darkness and been through the other side.

“And you really should have remembered to shave today,” Barbara thought to herself as her hands grazed against her large bush. Being the gal in the chair meant long nights of staying in, and not having to worry about how you looked. Hell Babs hadn’t even been to a beach in about a year, so worrying about her bikini line was never a thing that worried her. She was a natural woman, and that meant she took pride in having something down there, she just didn’t realize how jungley it had gotten, perfectly covering her pussy lips.

It had now dawned on Babs that she wasn’t the skinny athletic girl who risked her life in the field, she was a woman, a beautiful one at that who was back doing what she loved, and as soon as she washed her costume she’d be back to homebase, ready to do it again the next night.

She soon placed her costume in the washer, mask and all as she sat on one of the chairs, not bothering to cover herself, forgetting that she was in a public place. She never got a chance to take herself in and enjoy who she had become, her hands moving to her folds as she thought of herself for a brief moment, just a slight tease before a sound cut through.

Creeeek

The stairs creaked as Barbara jumped up from the chair, covering her front, but leaving her butt exposed to whoever came down the stairs, her cheeks flushed with red as she heard someone say.

“Barbara? Barbara Gordon?”