Dazii!!

Just—Kon's all muscle like always, but all that muscle is currently wrapped in and accented by the kind of curves that usually only show up in Amazons and New Gods, in Cassie's experience, because standard-build human women with muscles like that don't have body fat like that. Like, Barda has curves like those.

Diana actually does not have curves like those, though, because Kon is definitely more, uh . . . landed, so far as his, uh . . . tracts go.

Actually, on that subject, Cassie's not sure even Mighty Endowed has curves like those. Which should maybe be less of a surprise after, like, everything about Power Girl and the fact that she and Kon are technically cousins, sort of, or at least . . . second cousins, kinda? But like . . . but . . .

But the bright blue crop top and the absolutely perfect tits that are this close to busting out of it and the tiny, tiny red leather shorts that really only kind of cover that just as perfect ass and the fishnet thigh-thighs and shit-kicking steel-toed boots and flashy gold hoops and studs and makeup and at least Barda and Power Girl are decent enough to wear one-piece costumes, godsdammit! At least Barda and Power Girl wear one-pieces, mostly! Sleeves! Capes! Sporty cuts! Sports bras! That kind of thing!

Kon is not wearing any of those things.

At least, Cassie really can't call the cut of those shorts any kind of "sporty". Mostly she can't call them anything, because she's feeling kind of faint at their mere existence. She thinks she might need to go lay down or maybe go do some breathing exercises or something.

Lesbian. She is such a lesbian. Like—lesbian.

"Not to repeat myself, but do forgive the drama," Circe says, which reminds her they're in mortal danger—or at least "about to get horribly cursed or horribly DOUBLE-cursed and probably need to call in Diana" danger—and Cassie snaps her eyes over to her just in time to see her settling down lightly onto the ground as the magic spilling out of her hands and glowing in her eyes dissipates into nothing but afterimages of light. "Just something about playing the old games that brings the performer out of me, you know how it is."

She smiles at Kon when she says that last part, and he—something happens at super-speed, Cassie just barely manages to clock, but mostly only because she's spent so much time around Bart that her reflexes can tell there's something she's not clocking—and then bristles aggressively and jerks to his feet, hands already in fists. Cassie feels a really inappropriate way about the way that Kon's tendency to push his chest out when he squares up pushes his—chest out.

There's just—there's just a lot more there to push out, suddenly.

"Oh, I do like this one," Circe muses, smiling to herself as she tangles her fingers in one of the long bronze and leather necklaces layered over her breastbone and looks Kon over in a way that makes something in Cassie's spine—bristle, almost, and . . . "Really outdone myself this time, actually. Well, you already know how many people won't believe a girl when she's telling them the facts, Cassandra. So the irony's a fun little treat, if nothing else."

"I—what?" Cassie says blankly, because what the hell does Cassandra's myth have to do with a transformation spell; that's not even—

"What the fuck, lady?!" Kon snarls furiously, and the usual low tenor of his voice is pitched up into a low alto instead, which immediately takes Cassie out at the knee, hormonally-speaking. Very weirdly, but very, very hormonally. Just—she has literally never reacted so viscerally to just hearing a voice in her life, and—

Circe's smile quirks up a little at the corner. Cassie's survival instincts remind her of the actual priority here and she immediately switches to desperately trying to figure out any way out of this situation, because their chances of taking out Circe are basically laughably nonexistent, especially when Kon's already pissed-off and lost his temper, and especially without having Tim or Bart or any other backup in the room, and especially without having Diana for backup.

Gods, Circe is just not someone Cassie wants to have to deal with without Diana on deck. Or taking point, in an ideal world.

Cassie would really like it if Diana were at least here, whether she was doing anything or not.

Cassie would vastly, vastly prefer Diana being here over literally any possible backup she could ever possibly have, actually.

"Don't do anything stupid, Kon," she says warily. He doesn't even look at her, but Circe spares her a glance with a wider, slyer smile. Cassie only notices that belatedly, unfortunately, because it is very hard not to be staring at Kon's chest right now. Or his ass. Or his—everything. Just like . . . just his current everything.

So much everything.

How does he have so much everything?

Ngh.

"Bit of a drama queen yourself, I see," Circe says to Kon. He glares at her and opens his mouth like he's about to say something—snarl something, from the look of him—but Circe just snaps her fingers and a bright red ball gag materializes in Kon's lipsticked mouth, stark black leather straps locking it in place around his head.