Of Heroes And Villains

In which a superhero meets his match, masks are uncovered and a mad scientist just tries to get some mad science-ing done without getting distracted by the antics of her magical minion.

Fanart by the talented Ian Samson, creator of City of Reality and artist of The Wotch


Kara – no, Shade – no, Ian wasn’t panicking.

He was calm, and cold, and aloof.

He also had breasts.

They were heaving.

This was because he was breathing heavily in what might be called hyperventilation due to the fact that he was panicking.

“Kara…?” Diane’s voice was hesitant and she was staring at him with her red eyes wide.

“No,” he snapped. “That’s not my name.” At least his voice still sounded right. He crossed his arms over his chest as if that might hide his generous endowment, only to find out that this gesture really didn’t work as it used to. His arms were rubbing up against his nipples which rapidly hardened to stiff little nubs in response.

“Ian?” she tried tentatively, even more hesitant than before, and he relaxed a fraction.

Wait.

She was not supposed to know that name.

With growing horror he realized that there was a villain standing in his bedroom. His actual bedroom. In his house. In his civilian life.

She took a step forward, approaching him like one might approach a cornered animal, gently holding out a hand. He took a step back to match hers, and his back hit the mirror.

Diane had done this to him.

He’d almost died because she’d weakened him. Had it been a trap?

Why are you still alive then, asked a voice in his head that had the pedantic nasally twang of Reason. It quickly got tackled to the ground by Panic, joined by Irrational Anger, which gave Reason a few swift kicks while it was down. Confusion, not wanting to be left out and not really knowing what else to do, joined the pile, halfheartedly holding Reason down as well.

“You did this to me.” This time it wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.

Diane looked confused and – hurt?

“K- Ian. Calm down. I have no idea what’s going on.”

“You turned me into a woman, that’s what’s going on!”

Hell, not even that. He was stuck in some sort of hybrid state. He was still very much male downstairs. He’d checked – and ignored the brief sting of disappointment. But everything else was completely feminine. His waist. His face. His breasts. When he’d jumped out of bed he’d lost his balance, not used to his new center of gravity.

“Kara.” Her voice was a command, the one she reserved for the bedroom. “Look at me.” He responded despite himself. “I didn’t do this.”

He wanted to believe her.

Diane took another step toward him, and he had nowhere to back up to.

“And I am quite insulted that you think I would.”

She gently laid her palm on his cheek, and he leaned into the touch on instinct. Their gazes met.

“What happened?” he asked quietly. The last night was a blur of vivid images that made little sense. He remembered arriving at the warehouse. He remembered Diane utterly failing at stealth and him covering her back. He remembered fighting the Executioner, though he didn’t remember why. He supposed because the villain was there, and there was a rule that they had to pair up and fight when in close proximity. Then nothing.

“You got injured,” she said slowly and her gaze dropped to his new body, lingering on his chest. “And teleported us to safety. I healed you. When I left you here a couple of hours ago you still looked, well…” She reached out and brushed her fingertips along the round slope. His skin tingled, her touch leaving a scorching trail in her wake. He shivered at the new sensation, heat pooling in his insides.

“And you really didn’t do this?” His voice cracked when she gave his pink nipple a squeeze, momentarily breaking into a higher octave. He coughed, massaging his throat.

Diane gave him an annoyed look. “Kara, all I do is heal people. I have no idea how to modify bodies, and if I did, I wouldn’t do it without your permission. If you haven’t noticed, even when I forced your hand, I made sure you really wanted it every step of the way.”

She had. He looked down at himself, panic slightly receding. Waking up in an unfamiliar body was bad; thinking Diane had done it was worse. Kara’s brain finally started functioning in some semblance of sanity.

Diane was still curiously stroking his hypersensitive new flesh and his breaths grew shallow with something entirely different than panic.

Kara had breasts.

Kara had curves.

Kara had an entirely feminine face that might even be called pretty.

Nobody would ever look at her again and see something other than a woman.

Kara’s vision suddenly got very blurry and she blinked rapidly.

Diane got on her toes – their height difference was as pronounced as ever – and pressed a gentle kiss to Kara’s lip. “We’ll figure this out, okay?” she murmured, and Kara’s only answer was a soft moan, her hands dropping to rest on Diane’s hips, drawing her closer.

“So that’s still there, then,” Diane observed with a soft laugh, grinding against Kara’s stirring cock. Kara made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, her tongue darting out to coax Diane’s lips open.

She obliged happily, splaying her fingers and cupping Kara’s breasts, squeezing. Kara gasped as at the unfamiliar sensation, deciding instantly that this was her new favorite thing in the whole world. “Do that…” She moaned, thrusting her hip. Again. Againagainagain.

Diane cocked her head, withdrawing from the kiss to gaze up at her. Then her lips curved into that wicked smile Kara knew so well. “Do you like having your tits played with, Kara?”

Kara whimpered.

Diane did not wait for an answer, bending at the knee and closing her lips over Kara’s puckering nipple. Kara gasped as Diane sucked and swirled her tongue, kneading the breast her lips were neglecting with her nimble fingers.

Kara’s cock throbbed but her breasts ached, and Kara knew where she’d rather feel Diane’s wickedly talented tongue.

She moaned in her deep timbre, her head falling back as she buried her fingers in Diane’s hair, stroking the smooth texture of the red petals growing within. “Please… ahhh… please don’t stop, oh god.” What little semblance of coherence Kara had left just up and abandoned her, dissolving into deep-throated moans and gasps and whimpers.

And then her voice broke.

Kara started coughing viciously, Diane drawing her head back in alarm. Her throat burned and Kara reached to grab it. Her Adam’s apple was shifting under her skin, a sickening sensation, and then it was just gone.

The coughing fit subsided, leaving Kara staring wide-eyed into the distance.

“Kara?” Diane’s concerned voice cut through the sudden clarity in his mind. “Are you okay?”

“I…” He winced. His voice was husky, on the deep end of the spectrum of women’s voices, but clearly feminine nonetheless. At least you don’t sound like a squeaky toy, some part of his mind tried to console him. “It’s… whatever is causing this, it’s still happening.”

Shade leaned against the mirror behind him, slowly sliding along it to sit down, curling his knees to his chest. Diane knelt next to him, gingerly stroking his hair.

“Is that such a bad thing?” she asked hesitantly.

His gaze focused on her in a glare. She withered for a moment, then frowned back.

“I mean… you like being Kara. I don’t understand.”

“Women are weak.”

She drew back, highly offended. “I’m sorry, I must have hallucinated. All I heard was Please impale me on a vine, Diane!”

He exhaled sharply. “Physically.” He raked his fingers through his hair as he stared down at his new body. It definitely had good muscle definition… for a woman. Which was to say, far less than he used to have. “You threaten to impale me on a vine because you couldn’t take anyone in a physical fight.”

“See this? This is me summoning a vine.”

“Because you can!” he yelled and she flinched. “I don’t… I don’t have powers like yours. I have always, always been limited in what I can do.” He stared at his hands. Hands that were so fucking small and dainty.

What if he lost his height, too?

Shade knew how to fight opponents with longer reach, but it was hard. He would have to change his entire fighting style, almost starting from scratch. The advantages of smaller size – presenting an evasive target – were entirely lost on him since he was already an evasive target to begin with thanks to his teleporting.

Shade couldn’t afford to lose the few strengths that he had. He was already an underdog surrounded by demi-gods in capes, and this would only make it worse.

Gentle arms wrapped around him and Diane pressed a kiss to his hair.

They sat curled up like that for a long time.

“How’d you know my name?” Ian asked eventually.

“I went snooping.”

“Of course you did.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

A hint of a smile flitted across Ian’s face. Diane kissed him once more, and somehow her knowing his civilian identity wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Truthfully, she’d already known enough of his secrets to hurt him if she’d really had any desire to do so.

“Listen. I have a friend. She’s brilliant, and I bet she can figure out what’s doing this to you, and then she can probably engineer a way to reverse it, too. We could go see her, if you’d like.”

He raised his head.

“She is a villain, though. Promise me you’ll play nice?”


***


Shade’s hips wouldn’t stop swaying.

He ground his teeth and forced himself to walk more stiffly. Diane snickered softly, but had the decency to look chastened when he glared at her.

“I’m sorry. You walk like you have a stick up your ass.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have to if my hips would stop this nonsense.”

Diane just bit her lip and turned her face away to giggle where he could not see it.

“Are we there yet?” he grated.

“Almost.” Diane had Shade teleport to the factory district to cut their commute as short as possible.

He was wearing normal clothes, having not even tried putting on the skintight costume. There was no way it would fit him anymore. The jeans were simultaneously too loose and too tight, hugging his generous ass, and his shirt fared little better, stretched tightly over his breasts.

With some mixed emotion he’d determined that his dick was slightly smaller, too. After some creative tugging, the bulge was barely noticeable.

He drew the hood of his open jacket deeper over his face as Diane entered what looked like an abandoned factory. Shade wasn’t quite sure how to feel about consulting with a villain scientist, but he dreaded revealing his problem to the heroic contacts he had even more. Better to have a stranger examine him.

His eyes widened as he took in the vines curling along the walls, moss and flowers growing over broken machinery. Diane lived here? Something in his chest reverberated uncomfortably at the thought of her living in squalor.

“Diane,” a voice snapped, heavy footfalls approaching them. “What have you dragged in?” The air was growing freezing. Shade’s breath fogged.

“A friend. Listen, Amelia, don’t freak out, but I need a favor…”

Shade’s eyes widened as a familiar tech-armor came into view.

No.

She’s dead.

Paragon City had a threat rating system. This assigned every villain a number from 1 to 10, roughly estimating how dangerous they were to face. Correspondingly, every hero got a rating that was determined by how high a villain they could reliably take down solo. This allowed heroes to determine when to retreat, and to only respond to distress calls they were qualified to handle. The system was far from perfect but it had drastically improved efficiency and cut down on heroes getting fatally injured.

Diane, having only emerged recently, had quickly risen to 4, and would likely rise higher if she escalated her violence. Shade was a 7, which was as high as it got for low-powered heroes. Captain Patriot and Amethyst Star were both at 8 with the potential for more.

Cinder Snow was a perfect 10, judged capable of leveling entire cities by herself.

She was also a hero killer.

Shade lunged.