[kernelkink]

Suddenly, Stephanie noticed a faint trilling in her right ear and realized Robert was trying to call her. She quickly tapped her earpiece, squeezing her boobs close with her spare arm. “Talk to me, Briggs,” Stephanie whispered.

“Jesus, Sheriff, I was just about to burst in there if you didn't say somethin'! I've been tryin' to reach you for the last four minutes. I got good news; the SWAT team is on the way,” Robert replied.

Stephanie's eyes widened. “10-4, Briggs. Good news for sure. What's the ETA?”

“They're sayin' two hours, Sheriff. I know that's a lot considerin' how long you've been in there, but it took me a while to convince them that the other team was goin' in the wrong direction.”

Stephanie squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth in frustration. Unless Bruce had another big blank-out, she had no chance of a smooth rescue from the SWAT Team. She had to figure out a way to stall for one more hour. “Understood, Briggs. Thank you.”

“By the way, Sheriff, how have you been stalling for time? You haven't asked me to bring in money or anythin'. I know the guy's a kook and all, but I'm curious.”

Stephanie glanced down at her only clothes; her tight heaving bra, her little pink panties, her white socks over her scrunched-up toes. Everything else she had worn was gone, traded away in the dumbest hostage crisis of all time. “A good cop uses her natural resources,” she finally said to Robert. “Stay frosty, Briggs. Keep in touch,” Stephanie finished before hanging up.

Amy sidled over and looked at Stephanie eagerly. “What is it, Steffy?” she asked.

“SWAT team is inbound in two hours, Amy,” Stephanie whispered.

Amy's face showed joy, but that quickly faded to worry. “That means we have to keep stallin' more, right? What are we gonna do?” Amy asked.

“I was hoping you had an idea,” Stephanie murmured, though she didn't really expect that kind of adaptability from Amy. Sure enough, the younger woman shook her head vigorously, causing a cami strap to slip partway over her shoulder. Amy gasped and quickly pulled it back up before wrapping her arms over her chest in a tight hug. All this brought Amy's underwear to Stephanie's attention anew. Why was she wearing this? Even if she didn't need a bra, there had to be a decent selection of more adult-appropriate camisoles out there. It was a goddamn mystery comparable to Bruce's brain. But Stephanie couldn't ask...could she?

“Fuck it,” Stephanie whispered. “Amy,” she said a little louder, “this is gonna seem strange, but could I ask you a question about...your underwear?” One of Amy's hands instinctively shot to her crotch and her face glowed bright red. But as a silent second passed, Amy's face relaxed into something more resigned.

“Aw, heck,” Amy moped, lowering her arms, “Y'all have seen everything already.” She sighed exaggeratedly, making Batgirl's face bob slightly. “I guess you can so long as I can...” Amy paused, turning even redder. “Ask you...about yours,” she finally finished.

It was Stephanie's turn to blush, albeit much more invisibly. “Fine,” she said, subconsciously adjusting her bra straps. “So why Batgirl? I mean, do you like superheroes or something?”

Amy's blush replenished itself, but she did smile. “Yeahhhh,” Amy drawled, “especially Batgirl. Ever since I was a little girl, I was stuck to the TV whenever she came on the cartoons. I just liked how she was smart and tough and everybody listened to her even though she was pretty and girly too. Not a lot of that happenin' where I grew up, just a whole lot of 'Don't you look adorable in that little dress, Amy?'” Stephanie put a hand over her heart, which she swore was melting just a little bit.

“So when you asked me to train with y'all to be a police lady, I almost said no. I been such a scaredy-cat all my life and too worried about breakin' a nail to exercise much. But I thought of Batgirl and how brave she was, and how she ain't never one to back down. So I said yes,” Amy finished, nodding. “Oh,” she gasped, “I s'pose I didn't really answer your question. I wear these undies every time you take me somewhere scary and new. Makes me feel brave to know I got these on.” Amy gently tugged at the front of her cami. “Didn't think the whole world would get to know I had 'em on today.”

Stephanie smiled broadly. “You know, Amy, that makes a lotta sense to me,” she said, “In the weirdest way, but it makes sense.” Amy blushed yet again, but her smile came back in a big way too.

“Alright, you got to hear all 'bout my panties, so now I get to ask you somethin',” Amy said, looking down at Stephanie's chest. “What size is that bra of yours?” she whispered.

Stephanie chuckled despite herself, holding her chest to keep it from bouncing this time. “36FF, Amy,” she replied.

Amy goggled and did a double take from Stephanie's face to her chest. “Holy smokes, Steffy, they make letters bigger than D?” Stephanie nodded and giggled good-naturedly. “I guess it makes sense, though, since you're carryin' around the peaks of the Appalachians there. My goodness, what're they feedin' you California girls? Even Bruce is scared of 'em.” Amy smiled and Stephanie outright laughed thrice. Once for the jokes, once for Amy's corn-fed innocence, and a third time when she realized her deputy-in-training was actually pretty funny.

In the middle of the third laugh, she looked down at herself and was caught off guard. Stephanie had dropped her arms and her chest was jigging freely, offering a wide-open view of her assets. It was almost hypnotic now that she really looked, Stephanie thought. Her boobs were jutting right out into the room, huge and dominant, and their motion just called attention to their size. Her cleavage was a long, darkening line that plunged right between her boobs, terminating in that dainty little bow.

Stephanie felt a surge of pride and bravery, and then she felt something warm between her legs. She gasped, and had to fight to keep herself from slapping a hand over her crotch. She was getting that...well, that damp feeling inside, and it would just be the icing on this shit-cake of a night to get a wet spot on her panties. Why was she feeling like this, though? How stupid! What was she going to do, leak all over Bruce? She had to stay focused. “No more talking for a while,” Stephanie gently chided Amy, right before she started to think very hard about soccer.

It was a very fast hour that passed. Stephanie's heart was pulsing like the wings of a hummingbird as she watched the minute hand of the clock. In just one more rotation, that little hand would herald the beginning of wild desperation. The “official police undershirt” lie might have been bad, but it was foolproof compared to the next two she had thought of.

That last minute passed even faster than the 70 preceding it. Bruce glanced at the clock, breathed in, and breathed out with the exasperated nicker of a horse. “Well, I'm gonna be honest, I was expecting to be done with this hostage thing like three or four hours ago, and I'm super bored.” He stood up and brandished the knife once more. “I need a really good reason to not just do some stabbin' because that would at least be interesting.”

“Well,” Stephanie quickly interjected, “I've been keeping a tight lid on some other official police clothing you'll need to get out of here. That's pretty damn interesting, right, Bruce?” Stephanie stood and nodded at Amy to follow her example. Amy anxiously nodded back and stood up straight, although she flinched when an isolated giggle floated over from the hostages. “Namely, you're going to need our official police socks. Can't have those ankles showing.” Stephanie squatted slightly and raised her foot up, peeling the sock off. Amy followed her sheriff's example, though she bounced and wobbled trying to keep her balance. After a minute, both women were in bare feet and tossing over their balled-up socks.

“I thought you might say that,” Bruce smirked, and stepped out from behind the visitor desk to reveal he had on Stephanie's pants and boots. “These fit great, I look fantastic, and there's not an ankle to be seen!” he scoffed. Stephanie's heart sank deep into her stomach. Bruce wasn't lying on any count.

“Then,” said Stephanie, wringing her hands. “Then,” she began again. But she couldn't bear to continue. How could she? All Stephanie Morales had left to offer was her most intimate apparel, the last line between her decency and indecency. This was insane, the idea of baring either her boobs or her pussy to a roomful of hostages and a homicidal maniac. She thought she might have to turn herself in for examination after this. But then, how could she not offer her underwear, if it would save a life?

“Then,” Stephanie repeated in a tremoring voice, “you'll need something to disguise yourself as me. As I'm sure you've noticed, I have...” Stephanie's voice cracked like a little 13-year-old asking a boy if he liked her. This was humiliating. “I have extremely large bosoms and you would never be mistaken as me if you can't emulate them,” she said very quickly. Stephanie winced. She couldn't believe she just used the word “bosoms”. Amy's subsequent squeak kicked off a very long quiet. The doctors and nurses were muttering incredulously. Amy was burning red and nervously jangling her bracelet. And Bruce had raised an eyebrow as he gradually cracked a smile.

Then he laughed. Hard. Between tears and cackles, he spat out word after word: “What!? AH HA HA! You got- HA! Be kidding me! If I want- HEE HEE HEE- ed to look like- GASP- you, I would, I would, I would HA HA HA! Ask you if you had a jar of shoe polish! AH HA HA HA!” Amy seethed, at the racist joke, at the abject humiliation, at the fact that she had no more ideas to save the hostages. She was prepared to wrestle Bruce for the knife right then and there.

But then she remembered something Amy had said. She said that “even Bruce was scared” of her boobs. And it was true. She had been able to take real control of the situation when she had first exposed her bra. In a way she had never dreamed of, Stephanie's boobs did grant her power. And she had to use that power more explicitly than ever.