Grimmlord 2.2 (Patreon)

Chapter Two

Once he’d gotten sufficient distance from his mansion, Grimmlord pulled the hover board he’d borrowed from Danger Cat off his back and hopped on, skating his way back toward New Rotterdam. His mansion was a few miles outside the city, so he had time to think, which was not necessarily a good thing. In addition to turning him into a woman, his new costume was also feeding his system chemicals which increased his anxiety and made him more emotional, so as he whizzed along Old Mill Road, his mind raced:

I can’t get into my own house, my own lair. I can’t use the Grimm Wagon! I can’t use my own name! In fact, as long as he wore this costume, whenever he tried to say his name, the voice modulator changed the words. He tested it again, meaning to say My Name is Grimmlord, but what came out, his squeaky, high-pitched little girl voice, was, “I’m Danger Kitty!” He’d lost his voice, his identity.

And the worst part was he had no idea who had done this, who could do this? In fact, Simulata, the Artificial Intelligence that worked with the Justice Collective, had found not a single suspect in her databases. No one, to her knowledge, could do this to him, and yet— here he was, a woman now. And, due to the influence of his suit and hormones, he was as emotional as any highly wrought teen-age girl.

Right now, that teen-age girl was seething at Apex. It was not the first time Apex had crossed the line. Grimmlord had woken one morning right after becoming a woman to find Apex spooning him! It was creepy and weird and made Grimmlord feel something he had not felt since he’d been child: vulnerable.

Reaching the city, Grimmlord used the overboard to rise up above the rooftops, skating his way through the air back to his favorite spot: The Old Rotterdam Church. As he glided along, people sometimes spotted him, and to his chagrin he heard them call out, “Danger Kitty!” As they pointed.

Have they already forgotten my true name? He wondered, his long ponytail whipping in the wind. Climbing onto the ramparts, between two learning gargoyles, Grimmlord out his hands to the small of his back and arched his back, rotating his shoulders. He was getting back aches— the weight of his breasts.  Noemie, aka Danger Cat, had advised him to wear a support bra under his costume, but he’d refused. It was too— feminine. But he was rethinking that decision now. His suit provided some support, but not enough.

He remembered that morning. He’d stayed the night at Noemie’s. The two of them had revealed their secret identities to each other some years ago, and they’d become friends and slept together regularly, but with neither desiring any sort of marriage of exclusive commitment.

Keith had woken to find his long hair in his mouth, and pulling it out of his face and tossing it back over his shoulders, he’d decided to cut it off. Long hair was impractical and pointless, he’d decided, especially for a man who didn’t want any more attention than his bombshell figure was already attracting. He’d done to the bathroom off the guest room where he’d been staying looking for scissors or clippers, and not finding any had wandered downstair, still trying to get used to how jiggly and fleshy his new body felt.

Noemi had been curled up on her couch, Ipad in hand, reading. When she looked up, she’d smirked and said,”Morning, sugar tits.”

“Does that have to be my nickname?” Keith had said.

“Oh, yeah,” Noemi said. “Either that or sweet cheeks.”

“Where can I find some clippers?” Keith had said, pushing his hair back over his shoulders. “I’m gonna cut all this off.”

“Not too practical for fighting,” Noemi agreed. She had a pixie cut.

“Or, anything else.”

Noemi told him where to find the clippers and went back to reading. She heard the clippers buzzing, and was surprised a few minutes later when Keith walked back into the room, long hair flowing down his shoulders. “Change your mind?”

“No,” Keith said, sourly. “I cut it off. And it just grew right back. Like, that fast,” he said, snapping his fingers.

“Nanobots,” Noemi said.

“I figured the same thing.”

“It’s so puzzling. I can’t get fix on exactly who is doing this and why/. I mean, could it just be some sort of sadistic payback?”

“Maybe,” Grimmlord said. “I can’t figure it out, either. I feel like I need more information.”

“Well, come on, then,” Noemi said, getting up. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To my bedroom.”

There was a time that phrase promised kisses and caresses, the greatest sex. Grimmlord actually felt his body tingling at the invitation. “Bedroom?” He said, his little voice getting higher, a rush of anxiety coming over him as he wondered what it would be like to sleep with Noemi as a girl, both of them women, would he be able to please her? Would he be the aggressor or— submissive? Noemi was walking in front, leading him to her room, and he let his eyes caress her long legs.

Noemi glanced back, saw Grimmlord’s cheek flush, his pupils get fat with lust.

“Um, not for that, sweetie,” she said.

“Not for— what? No. I didn’t think—“ Keith sputtered, blushed more, embarrassed not only at what he’d been thinking, but that, of course, she was rejecting him— he was— a woman. He couldn’t please her.

Noemi could see the shame in Grimmlord’s big, pretty eyes, and she wanted to re-assure him. “Keith, I don’t want you to feel bad or anything. It’s just— maybe one day? But I am not feeling it right now. But I need you to believe I don’t think any less of you because of — you know.”

“Okay,” Grimmlord had said, wanting to melt away. It was so humiliating, and he did feel like she thought less of him. Or, was it that he was less or believed himself less? “Yeah. Of course, but then- what?”

Noemi nodded. “I need you to just deal with this,” she said, sitting him down at a mirrored dressing table and shoving a brush into his hand.

“With what?”

“A crash course in hair care,” she said. “If you’re going to be stuck with all that hair, you’re going to need to learn to take care of it.”

Grimmlord had frowned, a feeling of disgust and self-hate coming over him. Not only did she not want to have sex with him, but she was reaching him— in his mind— how to be a girl. It was like having another piece of his masculinity cut out him, but he pushed down the torrent of emotions and the threatening burn of potential tears— he’d been crying a lot since becoming female— and said, “What do I need to know?”

“I’ll show you,” Noemi said. “But just some basics. I have to head into the office in a couple hours.”

“Hours?” Grimmlord said, eye going wide.

“Hair like this is no joke,” Noemi said, digging her hands into his thick, soft hair, mussing and fluffing it. “Let’s start with basic brushing.”

It had been shortly after that and as she was rushing to get off to work that Noemi had made the suggestion about the bra. Feeling already feminized enough as he tried to get used to the feeling of the long ponytail swishing down his back— the one he’d learned to do under Noemi’s sisterly tutelage, he’d immediately refused. “I’m not wearing a bra,” he said. “No way.”

“Okay,” Noemi had said, but he could see from her facial expression that she was pretty doubtful he’d be able to stick to that pledge. “We’ll see.”

Maybe, he decided, he could get some and wear them without Noemi noticing. It felt like a further surrender of his masculinity, a giving in to this new body and this new sex, and besides he didn’t want to listen to her crow.

Just as he was thinking about finding a good bra, Grimmlord heard a scream, and sprung into action!