Batgirl Returns After a Long Absense

“So you sure you’re ready for this?” Nightwing asked on Barbara Gordon’s monitor as the buxom redhead moved around, plugging in connectors and other wires into her computer system at the clocktower.

“Doctor said I could go out,” Barbara responded as she connected the new radio receiver to the bank of computers, sweat on her brow as her purple hoodie and black sweats provided warmth against the cold Gotham nights. “What scared of the competition?”

“If I recall the press didn’t give me the nickname of-” Nightwing teased.

“Don’t you dare,” Babs said, remembering how the press reacted to the later parts of her career in spandex, her ample rear straining against a costume that hid nothing. “Besides we’re going to keep tonight super lowkey. And if I need you I’ll call you.”

“I mean I’m not exactly not going to show up if you’re wearing lycra again,” Nightwing purred.

Barbara’s face turned red, it had been a long time since anyone had seen her in the role of Batgirl, the only time she ever put on the costume since her **** retirement was for a certain boy wonder’s birthday. But even then, the prop costumes she bought usually didn’t last the night when he grabbed hold of her.

“It’s not lycra, it’-” Barbara began.

“A special spandex-lycra with a hint of kevlar mix that allows comfortable movement, protection, and really shows off certain assets,” Nightwing teased, enjoying how he could hear how flustered Oracle was from his comms. “Remember to breathe, and that sometimes it’s OK to wear baggier pants in the field.”

“Shut up,” Barbara muttered as she finally connected the Bat-Wave back to her computer. “Or I’ll kick your keister back to Blüdhaven.”

“Got it boss, see you out on the field,” Nightwing said as he hung up and went off into the night.

Bring…bring…bring…

It had been a long time since Barbara Gordon had heard the batwave. Most people paid attention to the signal, but that was for higher priority threats. The batwave was for all the smaller and easier criminals. And at this point in her recovery, Barbara felt she was ready to handle some of the smaller criminals that plagued Gotham.

“OK Barbara, time to figure what you’re going to wear,” She mumbled as she moved from the clocktower computer banks and pulled out the book that triggered her back wall as a row of suits came out for Oracle to select.

“Let’s see what we still have left,” Barbara muttered as she looked at the row of suits.

“Wore that when I was sixteen, not going to work,” She said to a purple costume with a wig attached to the back.

“Oh god, why did I decide that rubber or silicone was going to be the costume material of the future,” She muttered when pulling a black suit with silver highlights. “It would be like trying to walk in a jello mold.”

“Hmm…you might work,” Barbara said to a black suit with a yellow symbol and a blue mask and cape. “But you…you were always my favorite.”

She looked at the grey suit with blue wrist high gloves and simple boots. The utility belt was light yet still stocked and it was the suit Barbara wore when she was in her prime as Batgirl. The nights of fighting crime with Robin and then doing stupid things after like eating pizza on the rooftop or those silly dares that ended with her bare ass mooning people on a Gotham airship. As she felt the fabric int her hand it felt like coming home.

“Suit up time,” Barbara said as she began to pull off her hoodie, forgetting her round glasses were still on as her head got caught for a moment as she tried pulling it off. Her soft stomach and black sports bra strained against her ample d-cup breasts. “Come on…come on,” she said as she soon wiggled the hoodie off, her auburn hair already a mess from digging around in her computer banks.

“Ugh!” She said as the hoodie dropped to the ground, her black sweatpants soon dropped next to them, revealing a pair of white nightwing printed fullbacks. A gag gift from some of the Birds of Prey that had turned out to be some of her comfiest pairs. The way it hugged but didn’t squeeze made them a godsend in her line of work. But she knew she’d never live it down if certain people had got a glimpse of them.

Before Barbara put on the suit she looked at her reflection in a nearby mirror. When she was at her prime, all anyone could talk about was how fast, athletic, and strong she was. With many people being able to see her slim waist, tight and muscular stomach, and petite arms and legs. A gymnast who would break your ankles in black spandex.

But now? Years of being in the chair had given her a large bubbly ass, a softer stomach, and thighs that could call down thunder. She still had muscle, her core strong along with arms that could do pull ups with a wheelchair. But what concerned Babs most of all was that the last time Gotham had seen Batgirl she had a petite c-cup chest. Not the heavy d-cup melons age and inaction had given Ms. Gordon.

She slowly took the costume off from the hook and began putting it on. Unlike the black suit and it’s two pieces, the grey suit was a onesie with Barbara slowly stepping into it and pulling it over her pale and freckly skin. The fabric stretched more than it had to contain its wearer’s new shape. It hugged every curve and made the usually hidden nerd aware of how her body, even after all these years still looked damn good in spandex.

The boots and gloves game on next as Barbara took her glasses and placed them in a pocket in the back of her utility belt, unaware that the lines of her fullbacks were clearly showing through the suit. What was more important as Barbara slid the blue mask on was that she felt confident as Batgirl could once more be seen to the entire world.

And as she opened the window of the clocktower to enter Gotham properly, wind grazing her soft face, Barbara Gordon knew this was what she wanted as she leapt into the night, unaware of the next embarrassing night that awaited