Kinktober: Batgirl Gets Clowned (F/F)

Stories that have little truth to them should go here.

This isn’t the last we’ll be seeing of Batgirl this month!

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TamatoaShiny123
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Kinktober: Batgirl Gets Clowned (F/F)

Post by TamatoaShiny123 »

Batgirl had been captured by The Joker and Harley Quinn. The Clown Prince of Crime heard through a network of clown makeup-wearing spies that Batman had tracked down his lair and decided to let Harley have some fun with their captive.

Batgirl had been strapped down to a metal chair. Metal cuffs held down her wrists, elbows, waist, lap, neck, ankles, and knees. She had been struggling to escape the chair when a pair of hands covered her eyes.

“Guess who!” a voice rang out.

Batgirl scowled. “Gee, is it the psychopath who hit me in the face with a mallet and then restrained me in a chair?”

Harley uncovered the redhead’s eyes and sat down in her lap. “Wow! You’re good at this game! Ooh, let’s play another game! What am I thinking about right now?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”

The blonde clown sighed. “That’s your problem, Bat-brat. You don’t care about anything!”
“I care about kicking your face in. If you let me outta this chair, I could demonstrate.”

Harley thought about something for a minute before grinning and holding Batgirl’s face with her hands. “I know what’ll make your mood change for the better; a makeover!”
“A what?!”
“Sure! Soon enough, you’ll be feeling and looking like me!”
“I’ll be feeling like a psychopath whose makeup job looks like she’s never seen sunlight, like, ever?”

The clown frowned. “Maybe what you need first is a smile.”

Harley pulled out two small black steel squares and stuck them onto the corners of the heroine’s lips. She took out a tiny remote control and pressed a button on it. The squares suddenly lifted up, forcing Batgirl into a fake smile.

“I...hate...you,” Batgirl growled.
“There! Now that your frown got turned upside down, we can get started on your makeover!”

Harley ran out of the room and returned with a small tub of white face paint. Taking a small brush, the clown started to paint all over the exposed parts of her enemy’s face.

“Loo-loo-loo,” Harley hummed to herself as she worked. “Doin’ some Harley stuff. Harley stuff is mah favorite stuff.”

The former psychiatrist then took Batgirl’s hair and stuck it in pigtails to mimic her own hairstyle. She pulled out a mirror and show her nemesis the results of the makeover.

“What do you think?” Harley squealed. “Do you love it? You love it, right?!”
“I...hate...it. And...you.”
“Ah, you’ll come around to it. Now then, there’s one more step to the makeover.”

Harley pressed another button on the remote. The chair now sprouted wheels from the bottom.

“Where...we...going?” the clown-looking heroine asked.
“To Mistah J’s chemical room. We’re gonna dip you in some chemicals that’ll get you laughin’ in no time! Then, you’ll be just like me!”
“But you...weren’t...dipped...in…chemicals.”
“True! But I had a choice in being turned into a clown. You don’t.”
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