For
pixyofthestyx: girl!Flash, with bonus Clark vs. Businesswoman Barbie fighting.
Wally hadn’t actually intended for the positronic flux-capacitator to blow up. It just sort of… happened. And regardless of what Wonder Woman and Green Lantern would say later, it wasn’t his fault.
If anything, he was the victim here. The suddenly breast-endowed, estrogen-enhanced, most-precious-part-of-the-male-anatomy-deprived, formerly-known-as-the-Flash-and-now-going-by-Flashette victim.
“I am going to kill you, Superman!” the redheaded woman standing over the smoking remnants of the flux-thing shouted. “You did this to me, you alien freak. I am going to crush you like a cockroach!”
Superman-and oh man did that name sound wrong at the moment, given the incredible curves that were visible under his, um, her, um, under Clark’s suddenly too-big uniform-was staring at her with something that looked disturbingly like awe. Or maybe terror. And why were Clark’s breasts bigger than Wally’s? It wasn’t fair.
“You’re a redhead,” Clark said in a weird, soprano voice.
The woman shrieked with rage, and launched herself at him.
“Oh, Great Hera, help me,” Wonder Woman moaned. She-he?-stared down at her suddenly naked and very male body with an expression of utter horror on her face. “Flash!”
“I didn’t know it would do that!” Wally stammered, in a voice much too high to be his own. “I mean, the speed vortex thing worked last time Lex tried to destroy the world. And, hey, world very much still here? Plus, a bonus catfight. Everybody wins.”
“Flash,” Wonder Woman repeated, in tones that achieved Batman-like levels of testosterone-laden threat, “This,” she gestured at the new and improved portion of her anatomy, “isn’t winning.”
Wally pulled his eyes away from Wonder Woman’s assets… again, bigger than his, because the world really did hate him, and looked back at the catfight going on on the lab floor. It looked like Girl!Clark was coming out on top (no, bad thought! Bad!). Beneath him, Girl!Lex was thrashing futilely, his wrists pinned to the floor by one incongruously delicate hand.
“Let go of me,” he hissed, in an alto purr that was way, way sexier than anything that belonged to Lex Luthor should ever be. “Now!”
There was a strangled noise from the direction of the door. Wally spun around so quickly that the room blurred--speedster powers still working, good--to see Batman standing in the doorway, still fully clothed and self-evidently male. The lucky bastard. “Something tells me I don’t want to know what happened,” he said.