Acquired Asylum Syndrome free porn video

Usual disclaimers apply: Characters property of DC Comics Inc, don't read this unless you're a consenting adult, etc., etc. If you read on you're accepting you know the drill. Acquired Asylum Syndrome By S18 PART 1 Their names were Raynor and Potkin, but that was barely relevant. The pertinent details - both over six foot, each weighing in at between two-twenty and two-forty pounds and sharing an IQ that didn't have pretensions to three digits - told Batgirl that she could take them down in a heartbeat. But she didn't. She had tracked them for three days, holding herself back when they turned over a liquor store for petty change, intervening only briefly when they might otherwise have found the part-time checkout girl hiding in the back room. Raynor and Potkin found sexual gratification through paying out cash or, preferably, applying a little force to get the goods for free. When Batgirl got the chance, she'd take pleasure in taking these goons down, hard. She danced through the shadows, aware that they pair were unlikely to spot a trail, but taking no chances. Their car sped away from their sleazy downtown motel and Batgirl followed on her Batcycle. Though her intuition second- guessed their destination, Batgirl's heart still beat louder as it became obvious Raynor and Potkin were heading for the winding road that lead to the rocky outcrop on the edge of Gotham and the bleak erection that was Arkham Asylum. *** The trials of the Behaviour Normalizer had been progressing apace for the past three weeks. The Asylum psychiatrists were delighted with the results. A week ago, in the presence of the mayor, the police commissioner and various city dignitaries, the Joker himself had been dragged from his cell and strapped into the device. A switch was flipped and for the first time the grin was wiped off the Joker's face. Whispers echoed back and forth behind the one- way glass, the audience marvelling at the potential of this breakthrough. Others expressed reservations, the noted industrialist Bruce Wayne applauding the scientists' achievement, but cautioning that such a weapon in the fight against supercriminals should also be used with great care. Yes, yes, of course, agreed the scientists, far more keen on accepting plaudits than patronly advice. "Does he remember anything?" asked the Mayor, watching a blank-faced Joker lead by orderlies unsteadily back to his cell. "To a certain extent," explained Carsten Endermeier, inventor of the machine. "Some things, of course, we would not want him to recall," - polite laughter from the floor - "but what we think is more important ... Perhaps the best way of putting it is we have readjusted his moral compass. We have sucked out all his errant and subversive behaviour and conditioned him with far more acceptable set of attitudes and values. Now, when he does remember some of the atrocities he has committed, he will know they were wrong and feel guilt accordingly." "And what happens to the removed behaviour?" asked the troublemaker Wayne. Endermeier sighed and reluctantly explained. "We store it all in a the new CE-20 database - the vacuum cleaner bag of the process, if you will. A semantic net of the criminal's psyche will be stored along with their criminal record and personal history. This should provide an invaluable tool for criminologists and behavioural psychologists to firstly recognise dangerous symptoms in people before they develop true supervillain tendencies and secondly to help treat those where preventative measures could not be taken." "But surely your machine obviates the need for such treatment?" countered Bruce Wayne, dryly. "Rest assured, the Behaviour Normalizer will only be used in the most extreme cases," replied Endermeier, looking to the Arkham governors who suddenly realised they should have been paying attention and took the scientist's lead, nodding their heads in reassurance. "Well, I think it is fantastic invention," proclaimed the Mayor, "I give it my full endorsement." After much shaking of hands, the Mayor departed for a freeway opening and the scientists were left to rest on their laurels. Fortunately for them, the program of correcting the behaviour of the Arkham inmates went perfectly smoothly. The month-long trial was almost complete and almost all of the resident supervillains were pacified. The Joker was taking a home-study course in accountancy, the Riddler was drawing up plain-speaking mortgage leaflets for a major Gotham bank and Catwoman spent most of her day contentedly completing knitting patterns. Unfortunately, this meant the warders had become increasingly slack in monitoring security. As Endermeier joked before he departed on his annual golfing holiday, Arkham Asylum was now less a maximum-security mental institution and more a pleasant and relaxing residential home. This meant it was a small matter for Raynor and Potkin to bludgeon their way past the guards on the gate and gain entry to the infamous facility. *** Raynor and Potkin were feeling the evening was going entirely according to plan until they reached the cell that contained Harvey 'Two- Face' Dent, once respectable District Attorney of Gotham, once despicable scourge of the city he faithfully served and now, it seemed, beauty and cosmetics consultant. The beleaguered prison guard the two henchman were carrying at gunpoint was quickly discarded. The guard thought to take the chance to run for it, maybe getting back to his colleagues locked in the kitchen and freeing support to subdue the intruders. He was halfway down the corridor before Raynor shot him as an afterthought. Harvey Dent reeled on seeing the cold-blooded murder. His two-faces were barely distinguishable under thick layers of foundation. "Guards!" cried out Harvey in desperation. He jabbed a finger at the two men in front of him. "You murderers!" Raynor and Potkin looked at each other, sharing surprise and sadness. Coming to a silent consensus they turned back to the former gangster. "Sorry, Boss," said Raynor, before Potkin laid Dent out with a heavy punch. Raynor hefted their leader over his shoulder. "What 'appened to 'im, you reckon?" asked Raynor as they headed back out into the corridor. "I dunno, but we're going to undo it, compadre, and we're going to undo it sharpish," replied Potkin. His grim determination led him back into Harvey Dent's cell. Spilling the cosmetics assembled on the small table within across the floor, Potkin tore strips from the bedclothes, before producing a cigarette lighter. The infant blaze growing rapidly behind them, the duo and their prone passenger made for the exit. They ignored the screams and shouts signalling rising panic in the surrounding cells. "Help! Please! I know what they did to him! Let me out, I'll tell you!" The pleadings came from an attractive woman staring desperately at them through the barred window in her heavy cell door. Raynor turned to Potkin with a leer on his face. "We get the Boss back first," Potkin told Raynor sternly. Using a stolen pass-card, Potkin released the woman. She left her prison warily, knowing these men were dangerous criminals. She appraised them, trying to hide her nerves before pointing up the corridor. "The machine's up here. I'll show you the way." *** Batgirl raced into the depths of the complex after freeing the prison guards from the kitchens. Her original reason for being here was quickly put aside as she found one wing of the asylum in the grip of a raging fire. Aware her skin-tight costume possessed only limited flame-proofing, she smeared her skin with protective cream kept in her utility belt. Before diving into the fray, she radioed a call to the Batcave. There was little doubt Batman and Robin would already know of the fire and be on their way, but it was best to be sure. She saved maybe a dozen people before the heat became too intense. Each time she had to fight back a natural compunction to leave these criminals who she had fought in the past. Some had tortured her, others had threatened people close to her, but their eyes lacked the evil she had faced in the past. The Riddler kept blathering about papers he had to save as she hauled him from the inferno, but Batgirl had no opportunity to ask questions. A distant scream caught her attention. Charging a female warder to look over the rescued villains, she ran to find the source of the distress. Outside she could hear approaching sirens, a fractured melody playing over the constant background roar of the fire. As Batgirl skidded around a corner she almost collided with someone running in the opposite direction. Instinct skipped her aside at the last moment and a woman stumbled past. She turned to Batgirl who, despite herself, gasped. "Batgirl, two men," the woman struggled for breath, "they're trying to use the machine, I got away..." "Okay, Miss. Kyle," replied Batgirl, keeping her cool, "I'll take care of them. You get to safety." 'What's happened to all these people?' thought Batgirl to herself as she neared an open doorway. Shouts of frustration were coming from within. She approached silently. A quick glance around the frame showed her the scene inside. Harvey Dent, face mysteriously covered in white make-up, sat in a utilitarian chair surrounded by wires and pipes. Most of the cables lead to a bank of computer cabinets filling one wall. The sparse controls were the cause of the shouts as Raynor and Potkin failed to comprehend them. Batgirl ducked back out of sight again, took a breath, then stepped into the room. Her Batarang was luckily avoided by Potkin, who immediately shouted to Raynor: "Get the Boss out of here, I'll deal with the Bat-Bitch!" Potkin drew his gun and loosed a salvo of bullets that forced Batgirl to somersault across the room as an evasive measure. How many shots had he fired? Two more sped past her Bat- ears, covering Raynor as he hurried with Dent from the room. A flash of panic crossed Potkin's face as he raced to replace the emptied clip. Batgirl's heeled boot struck the wall by Potkin's head as he ducked clear, rolling on the floor and seeing his fresh magazine skate away from him. "Give it up, Potkin," suggested Batgirl. Acrobatically bouncing off the wall, Batgirl reached the clip before Potkin could get close. She tucked it into her utility belt. Advancing, she kept her eyes on Potkin as he sought cover behind the chair in the middle of the room. He drew a knife and slashed out with from behind his refuge. Lightning fast she struck his hand and knocked the knife away. He sank back, even his misplaced misogynistic feelings of superiority reluctantly admitting he was outmatched here. He ducked one way and Batgirl threw a precise sidekick. Potkin ducked back and she was already rounding on him, but a moment's miscalculation and she stumbled over one of the trailing cables. Seizing his chance, Potkin lunged forward, pushing Batgirl backwards by her throat. She made contact with a wild punch and kick, but he managed to force her back into the chair, hastily fastening a strap across her neck. She twisted, the heels on her boots slicing across Potkin's face before he managed to jump back to safety. He touched the bloody mark across his cheek and smiled. Batgirl scowled and began trying to undo her restraint. Potkin dived forward again. She lashed out with a foot, but he grabbed it, twisting it painfully. He ignored an open-fisted punch to the side of his head and rammed his fist into her stomach. Potkin followed up with an elbow across her face. While Batgirl was momentarily stunned he got another arm locked in. Her left leg followed and, after punching her in the face, he got her remained limbs under restraint. Whoozy, Batgirl felt Potkin's hands fasten the straps across her waist and then across her chest. His hands lingered over the thin fabric that covered her breasts and she managed to spit at him. He grinned when it missed. Batgirl listened for some hope of rescue. The sirens outside promised hope, but the fire was growing louder more quickly than the distant shouts. "So, what game shall we play?" Potkin rang his tongue up her stomach and she looked away, disgusted, wishing she couldn't feel his touch through her costume. Then he was eye to eye with her. His fingers tracing the line of her cowl. She could see what he was thinking. Batgirl bucked in her bounds and Potkin danced backwards. If she could keep him away, keep him distracted, she might be able to work her way out of the straps. One hand free and she could be out in matter of seconds. Her train of thought was interrupted by the sight of Potkin returning to the computer bank. "Apparently this thing resets a guy's moral compass. Screws with the brain. Makes him act all twisted. If you flick the right switches." Batgirl stopped thinking about escape, despite herself she found her thoughts considering what this machine might do to her. Potkin turned to Batgirl. His expression summed up his thoughts about a nubile young girl who thought she could fight criminals like him in a costume that would look better sprawled across the centrefold of the magazines he hid under his bed as a teenager. Suddenly, he started yanking levers, pressing buttons, switching relays, all seemingly at random. Batgirl braced herself for what might follow. But nothing did. Potkin stepped back from the computer bank, disappointed. Batgirl started trying to worm her right hand free of the straps. Potkin frowned. His eyes searched the meaningless raft of panels, lights and controls. He finally spied a switch. It looked suspiciously like an 'on' switch. Gritting her teeth, Batgirl managed to squeeze her hand from its bond. Potkin grinned at her. Her arm was quickly free... And Potkin pressed the button. *** Batman and Robin appeared on the scene moments after the fire started. They quickly began evacuating the prisoners. It was Robin's eagle eye that spotted Raynor hurrying from the burning building. He didn't even put up a fight. Batman was familiar with the work going on in the Asylum, but even he was taken aback as his once-upon-a-time friend Harvey Dent was unloaded at his feet. Then Selina Kyle came stumbling from a doorway, escorted by two firemen. "There are people still in there," she was crying. The firemen tried to tell her it was no longer her concern. The dynamic duo hurried over. "Batgirl, she's in there," Selina told them. If she remembered her past history with Bruce Wayne or Batman, her eyes did not show it. "Where?" asked Batman, abruptly. "I'll show you," replied Selina, her hard expression and abrupt about-face told Batman she wasn't going to just offer directions. "Robin, stay here," ordered Batman, "we don't know how permanent Endermeier's conditioning will be." "Okay, sir," muttered Robin as the side he kicked disappeared, "I shall stay here and watch the fruit-loops." He looked at the prisoners being herded into a makeshift wire pen. Despite the dastardly reputations on display, none showed the slightest inclination for providing excitement. Robin sighed. *** It felt like a million memories were being rammed into her brain. At first she could make out fragments, fleeting pictures from criminal eyes, even seeing herself once or twice. But after a few seconds she couldn't pick out anything in the rush, the cortical overload consuming all sense and reason. *** Potkin stared at Batgirl as she in turn stared out into space. She seemed paralysed. Lights were flashing around the chair, needles projecting from her cowl where the chair had injected them into her brain. *** She felt the rush. She felt how killing someone might be fun. She realised the perverted pleasure that the Joker felt while torturing some poor fool who didn't see the joke. She understood the excitement that caused the Riddler to dance with glee as the seconds ticked away and Batman's ignorance of his latest riddle brought that moment of a masterplan's success that bit closer. *** Potkin could hear the fire. He could even hear people approaching through the chaos, but he was intrigued. He walked over to the prone Batgirl. He grabbed her left breast and squeezed, receiving not so much a flicker from Batgirl's face. He reached down and rubbed her crotch and felt disappointment again as she showed no reaction. He kissed her, biting at her lip, pressing his tongue against her clenched teeth. And nothing. Deeply unsatisfying. So he found the knife knocked into the corner. Without hesitation he slashed a cut down the torso of Batgirl's costume. He ripped open the material, loosing the rounded flesh of her breasts, uncovering a stomach of taut abdominals and offering a glimpse of trimmed pubic hair. He slid the knife under his belt. Potkin thrust his hand inside her costume, finding her dry slit and inserting a finger inside. With his other hand he began undoing his trousers, while running his slimy tongue across Batgirl's cleavage. *** She felt good. Her world had turned upside and she was seeing everything from a completely different perspective. The perspective of self- interest, anarchic fun and the orgasmic, perpetual pleasure gained from exercising unrestrained power. Batgirl felt the needles retract from her head and the world returned with an assault on her senses. She was hot, horny. She felt flushed, in heat, as the worthless creep ineffectually ravishing her, fingered her pussy and suckled her nipples. She let out a moan of pleasure that caught Potkin by surprise as he was about to impale her with his cock. A large grin spread across his face. She puckered her lips and Potkin accepted the invitation, offering a wet and implausible kiss. Then his lips went rigid and her toppled backwards. With the knife in her hand, Batgirl adroitly freed herself from the remaining straps. Potkin meekly considered the gaping wound in his stomach. Batgirl, wearing a caring expression, ran tender fingers across her attacker's shocked face. Then the hand slipped down and dug into his wound, wracking Potkin with pain. Batgirl withdrew her fingers and erotically licked the blood off each, one at a time, as Potkin fell to his knees, then fell on his face, dead. She shuddered with an orgasm. Being evil felt so much better than suffering the burden of righteousness and the guilt it brought with it. Footsteps were approaching. They were still some way off, barely audible over the fire, but Batgirl sensed things even more keenly now. The blood that remained on her hand she smeared down between her breasts and into her pussy. She looked over at the computer banks. Sashaying over she kissed the power button, then punched a fist through the thin metal cover. With a fury of kicks and punches she left the Behaviour Normalizer sparking and hissing with escaping gas, damaged beyond repair. Ripples of energy coursed around the room, pounding at Batgirl's head every time they passed over her. Each time the wave touched, she caught a flash of the psyches that had informed her current state of mind. In one flash the Penguin. A handful of seconds later, Harley Quinn. A dozen more, Mister Freeze. Well, they couldn't teach her anything more now and it was starting to give her a headache. Dancing lightly, an unchained spirit set adrift in the big sandpit of Gotham, Batgirl twirled from the room. *** The fire was nearly upon the room when Batman and Selina entered. Flames were coursing from the wreckage of the Behaviour Normalizer and Potkin was still dead on the floor. Batman ran a trained eye over the room, picking up the subtle clues that might uncover the recent events that took place in the room. He spotted the canister of flammable coolant hidden in the recesses of the machine a moment before it would have been too late. He flung himself over Selina as the explosion blasted shrapnel in a deadly trajectory that would have slayed them where they stood. Their near escape proved less fortuitous as, through some mysterious contrivance, the small explosion served to focus the unbound generations of the Behaviour Normalizer. Despite Batman's powerful strength of will, the blue flash that swamped the room robbed him of consciousness. *** Robin reached the experimenting chamber as ceiling crashed to the floor and the tangible heat threatened to burn unprotected skin. As he stepped through the doorway he was hit by a psychic blast that filled his head with alien semantics. For a moment he reeled. His body felt the wrong shape and the chair in the room before him suddenly presented him with great trepidation. The Boy Wonder quickly shook off the effects, the heroic instinct taking over. He quickly dragged the still unconscious Batman and Selina Kyle from the room before another burst of energy could disorientate him. For a second he stood in the corridor, watching another ripple of energy coursing over the surface's of the room, producing showers of sparks amidst the flames that now sought up through the wrecked machinery. Then shapes appeared through the pervasive smoke. The fire-fighters helped Robin and the escapees from the building, great crashes of falling masonry bellowing behind them hastening their exit. Once free, Robin cast a glance back at the dark skeleton of Arkham Asylum crumbling under the ravages of a multi-storey inferno, despite the emergency services assault with thousands of gallons of water. He helped Batman and Selina Kyle to the Batmobile. The first aid kit behind the driver's seat would provide better care than a harassed paramedic dealing with dozens of patients could. Batman revived quickly. "I told you to stay outside," his words reprimanding Robin. "Unlike you, I don't have na?ve emotional attachments to Miss Kitty Litter here," replied the Boy Wonder. Selina Kyle, occasionally known as Catwoman, remained oblivious to her part as subject of the conversation. "She went under Endermeier's Behaviour Normalizer, we can't judge her on what she may have been before, Robin," coughed Batman, still suffering from the effects of smoke inhalation. "Like you said, we don't know how permanent Endermeier's conditioning might be. I wasn't going to let you go into a burning building not knowing if Catwoman might make an appearance," said Robin. He noticed an odd flicker pass across the unmasked portion of Batman's face on mention of the feline felon. "She wouldn't..." began Batman. "In one of her good moods, no," conceded Robin, "but you know how fickle cats can be, one minute playing innocently, the next, the game's turned homicidal." "Right now, I don't think we should be making judgements," said Batman, making it clear that was his final word on the matter. His head turned back to the silently reclining figure of Selina Kyle and frowned. "I'll take her to the detention pen," said Robin. "No," snapped Batman. "You leave... her... alone." "Batman, I think you're suffering from the effects of the fire. Go back to the Batcave, I'll finish up here." Batman, taking a moment to recover his composure, nodded in agreement. There was dangerous flash in Batman's eyes as Robin carried the recovering Miss Kyle away, but he didn't say anything. Slamming the Batmobile into gear, the caped crusader sped from the scene. "I think I can walk now," said Selina, opening her eyes and staring up at Robin. He hesitated, then put her down. She stood unsteadily, then collapsed onto her ass. "Just give me a minute." "Robin," hollered a familiar voice. The Boy Wonder turned to greet Commissioner Gordon. "Terrible, terrible state of affairs," said the Commissioner, gravely. They both considered the burning building. "Still, if Endermeier's device worked maybe this grim place is no longer required, eh?" "We can but hope, sir." "The Mayor was saying this land could be prime real estate. No doubt he'll be getting a call from Max Shreck when he arrives at his office in the morning, yes? I've got a development deal for you, Mayor, that you just can't refuse." "That's the way these things seem to go, Commissioner," replied Robin, unwilling to allow himself to get drawn too far into one of Gordon's ambling conversations. "Barbara will be disappointed," mused the police chief, "she was always so interested in the comings and goings at the place. Never understood why." Mention of Barbara Gordon's name suddenly reminded Robin of the emergency call they had received from her alter-ego, Batgirl, minutes before they arrived at the Asylum. He hoped she had escaped the fire and despite his confidence in her abilities, he thought it best to make sure. "If you'll excuse me, Commissioner, there are many people still in need of assistance," explained Robin. "Yes, of course, Boy Wonder." Commissioner nodded his dismissal and headed back towards the congregation of police cars. Once all the inmates are secure, I'll start make enquiries about Batgirl, thought Robin. Then he turned and found one of the inmates was already missing. He looked around in annoyance, but Selina Kyle was nowhere to be seen. *** The door to Wayne manor was opened by its elderly butler, Alfred. His face lit up on seeing the person who had rung the sprawling mansion's ancient bell. "Why, Miss Gordon," exclaimed Alfred, "what a pleasant surprise. I'm afraid Master Bruce and Master Dick are away on business at the moment ... but I see you are looking somewhat the worse for wear, please, come inside." The euphemism for Batman and Robin's nocturnal activities was not lost on Barbara, nor was the butler's obvious concern. She knew Alfred would not ask any questions as to how she acquired the bruises evident on her face. Barbara followed Alfred into the grand entrance hall and then into the more homely environs of the workers' kitchen. As he pottered around, searching for a first aid kit and some ice for her bruises, Barbara sunk into a chair and stretched out in feline largess. When the butler turned back he expressed barely concealed shock at seeing the Commissioner's niece running a luxurious hand down between breasts almost exposed by her undone blouse. He saw the blood smeared across her skin. When she slid over the chair, pirouetting round and hitching up her skirt, slit up the thigh, she grinned a Joker's grin from between her legs as she exposed her fleshy buttocks and her lack of underwear. When Alfred turned away she delicately somersaulted over the table and froze Alfred with a pair of hands that slowly searched their way up over his butler's uniform. "If I asked very, very nicely, Alfred, would you do something for me?" *** The speeding Batmobile drew to an abrupt halt in the echoic cavern of the Batcave. Batman leapt from the vehicle, angry with himself for his recent questionable judgement. He tried to remember what exactly had happened in Endermeier's experiment chamber, but all he could remember was being forced into the chair shortly before the splitting pain of needles driving themselves through his skull. But that hadn't happened, he told himself. The recent surge of adrenaline ebbed from Batman's system as he climbed the steps up through the Batcave and opened the hidden Batwardrobe in an alcove seven steps away from the famous Batcomputer. As he began to peel off the slick armour, he stopped on hearing footsteps behind him. "Robin!" The unmistakeable shape standing beyond the alcove watched Batman like an inquisitive statue. "I assume the authorities at Arkham have the situation well in hand?" "I'm afraid I have some bad news," replied the costumed Robin, hanging his head. "Yes?" replied Batman, removing his cape and unfastening his torso armour. "It's about Batgirl." Batman froze. Though his relationship with his fellow crimefighter was not overly close, he cared for her as one might care for a well- intentioned puppy. He also knew Robin was much closer to Barbara Gordon, though their troubled pasts and dedicated professionalism would prevent them ever progressing past a platonic relationship. Batman felt Robin's hand fall on his shoulder. When the Boy Wonder spoke, his voice was shaky, cracked. "A terrible thing happened at the Asylum..." Batman turned and Robin, almost sobbing, hugged his mentor, burying his head against his mentor's chest. "She knew the risks," said Batman, coldly. "But some risks have to be taken, don't they," replied Robin. Only the voice sounded wrong somehow. Maybe it was just his partner's distress. "I don't know if I can keep going, now..." Batman suddenly lifted Robin's head with his gloved hands and stared down at his prot?g?. "This is why we keep going, Robin. The sacrifices us and people like us make, they cannot be in vain." Tears were welling in Robin's eyes, but something about those eyes ... Managing a smile through the pain, Robin suddenly lifted up on his toes and kissed Batman on the lips. Before the Caped Crusader could react to this unexpected advance, a knife had slashed across his abdomen. Then a hand was inside his costume, grabbing his cock and stroking it even as the knife was held with dangerous intent by the other hand only fractions away. Batman stared in shock at Robin, who grinned. Then laughed. It was a manic laugh that echoed off the distant natural vaults of the cavern ceiling. It was tinged with the familiar echoes of vanquished enemies. Risking his manhood, Batman whipped up his arms and pushed the corrupted Robin away. Robin laughed again. "I always thought there was something more to your relationship than simple friendship," teased Robin, skipping away. Batman made a quick assessment of his injuries and decided they weren't bad enough to prevent him stopping this alien element from endangering the secrets of the Batcave. He chased Robin down the steps to the Batmobile's parking space, already rotated around to allow a rapid exit. On his descent he found Robin's mask discarded and a few steps down, the familiar gloves lying unwanted. His partner's 'R' emblem passed underfoot moments later. "What do you think?" asked Robin, as Batman reached the bottom of the steps. A clearly female figure of desirable form posed in nothing but black and red silk underwear, swaying her hips and making a mockery of the face of Dick Grayson that licked its lips salaciously at Batman. "Take off the mask," ordered Batman. The interloper giggled, then obliged. Batman was even more stunned when the face underneath was revealed as that of Barbara Gordon. She gave him a coy look as she walked over, teasing her erogenous zones with the knife taken from the Asylum. "Something's happened to you, Barbara. I can get you help." Batman adopted a posture to indicate he was prepared to use force if she came too close. "I don't need help," smirked Barbara, tramping over to the Batmobile and rolling across its sleek chassis. "I've seriously reconsidered my view on life and suddenly realised, for the first time, that this world isn't a terrible pit of suffering and despair. It's actually a seriously fun and exciting place. As long as you're the one meting out the suffering and despair." Quick as a flash she had hurled the knife and Batman barely had time to knock it aside before she was on him. He parried a kick, a punch, threw a half-hearted karate chop which resulting his leg being swept from underneath him and he was on his back, Barbara pinning his shoulders to the floor with her knees while she bounced her bottom on his chest. "You're far too nice to fight the likes of me," said Barbara in gentle chastisement. She bashed him on the nose with a finger. He bucked her off and she rolled away, letting him know with her eyebrows she was impressed with his resolve. "This ends. Now," stated Batman. He pursued her over to the Batmobile, but she was far too quick for him to catch in his current state. She tumbled over the bonnet, sweeping in and tapping him on the crotch before spinning behind him. He jumped away to put some distance between them, but she was already cartwheeling past him, slashing with the recovering knife. He thought he hit her, but a kick in his face and blow into his solar plexus told him it wasn't enough. Stunned by the attack, he couldn't deflect the blows that were delivered with a skip and a giggle. He was bundled into the cockpit of the Batmobile and Barbara tickled his nose with several strands of her hair she had just plucked from her glossy locks. The canopy of the Batmobile closed with the knife hanging delicately from the strands of hair right in front of Batman's forehead. He was barely aware of it, a blurring double-image that appeared and disappeared as his vision blacked in and out. The jet engine of the vehicle whined into life and shot it out of the Batcave as Barbara Gordon danced away, considering how she would re-decorate her new base of operations. *** Batman felt his daze fading as the rocky walls of the Batcave streamed past, giving way to vegetation and the night's sky as the Batmobile exited through the hidden entrance. He snatched away the knife that mocked his life and grabbed the steering wheel. It was locked rigid. A glance up showed him a mass of rocks and trees rushing towards him at nearly three hundred miles an hour. He stamped on the brake. No response. Sabotaged. Batman applied his seatbelt, gripped the seat tightly and yanked the ejector release. *** It was nearly dawn when Robin returned to the Batcave. He was surprised to find the Batwardrobe open, but changed without giving it further thought. He was exhausted. As Dick Grayson he climbed up through the secret passageways and emerged into Wayne Manor, still angry. Angry that he hadn't heard word or seen sign of Batgirl and that a voice inside told him he should be pleased if the Bat Bint was dead. He went to get himself a drink from the cabinet in the library. He was surprised and elated to find Barbara Gordon sitting there, waiting for him. Her eyes alive with relief, she jumped to her feet, rushed over and hugged him. "Well, I'm glad to see you too," he said in response, but then she was kissing him. She stopped, holding his face and looking at him as if she had never expected to see him again. Then he noticed the bruises. "What happened to you?" he asked. *** Selina Kyle was packing her clothes when she heard a thud against her apartment door. Maybe the authorities were already on to her. She'd hoped the chaos of the fire would give her a day or two at least to put her affairs in order and escape Gotham. She quickly fastened the straps on her bag and headed to the window. No doubt that exit would be covered as well, but it was a better bet than risking the confines of the corridor. Another thud on the door. "Selina! It's me!" Selina's heart sank. Batman's voice always brought forth mixed emotions in her, but it wasn't a voice she wanted to hear now. But, she realised, if he was here to capture her, he wouldn't be announcing his presence at the door. She put the bag down and crossed cautiously to the entrance hall. She looked through the fish- eye lens buried in the door and took a step back on seeing the bloodied eye of Batman staring back at here. Countless questions raced through her head as she unfastened locks and bolts. She threw the door open and Batman fell inside. She checked the corridor, but no one seemed to be aware of her visitor. Closing the door and locking it once more, she looked at the beaten figure of the scourge of Gotham's underworld, collapsed on the floor. "What happened to you?" she mused. Batman didn't answer. He was unconscious. PART 2 "I couldn't do anything about the damage Potkin had done to the machine and Potkin wasn't going to cause any more trouble, so I got myself out of there," explained Barbara. "Did you get Raynor, his accomplice?" "Sure did," replied Dick, "came stomping out with Two-Face over his shoulder as if he didn't know the place would be surrounded by the authorities." "But what of Batman?" asked Barbara. "What happened to him?" "He went in after you with Selina Kyle," they shared a look that reflected their mutual distaste for the Catwoman. "I didn't trust her and thank goodness I didn't. I found them both unconscious in the experiment chamber. Strangest thing, soon as I stepped through the doorway, I got hit by this wave of... I don't know what. I thought maybe that was what had knocked Batman and Kyle out." "This wave? What do you remember about it?" asked Barbara, intrigued. "Not a lot, I'm afraid I haven't given it much thought. I got Batman and Kyle to safety and then spent the rest of the night trying to find out what happened to you." Barbara smiled and ran her hand across his cheek. He closed his eyes as she kissed him tenderly once more. "I don't know if this is a good idea," said Dick. "I'm just glad you're alive," countered Barbara with good humour. "I know we're only friends, but we are good friends, are we not?" "Yes," smiled Dick. "Now you say this machine was used to extract the deviant behaviour from the Arkham inmates?" asked Barbara, pouring them each another drink. Dick nodded. "By all accounts it was very successful, but the long-term effectiveness..." Dick shrugged. "And that blue flash you encountered? You remember nothing?" "For a moment I thought I could remember myself being strapped into that chair, but it wasn't me, you know?" "Who do you think it was? Who you thought you were, I mean." Barbara's eyes were alight with curiosity. "I don't know. I'm sorry, Barbara, I think I should get to bed. Maybe I'll make a little more sense after some sleep." Barbara rubbed him comfortingly on the shoulder before he stood and headed off to his room. "Tell Alfred I left my costume in the laundry. I get the feeling I'll need it clean again soon." Barbara nodded and waved him away, silently laughing at how telling Alfred anything might be tricky at the moment. *** Selina wasn't surprised when she uncovered Batman's face and found Bruce Wayne sleeping underneath. She stripped him of his shredded costume and set about dressing his wounds. It was odd, she thought, how only a matter of hours ago she was quite happy being a respectable citizen, indulging in knitting and hoping to sign up for the local neighbourhood watch when she got out. Now she once again felt the tingling need to don her catsuit and head out over the rooftops of Gotham. How could she have lived without appreciating the art of liberating guarded treasures from under the nose of their owners? Abiding by the law was a suffocating blanket that took all the fun out of life. It must have been that machine malfunctioning. She had gone into the room a pitiful and weak excuse for a woman and come out rejuvenated, her true nature returned in a flash of blue light. She looked at the unmasked Batman and considered the implications. Leaving his bedside Selina Kyle departed into her bedroom. Catwoman returned, dressed from head to toe in tight black PVC, purring satisfaction as she crossed the room on her spiked heels. Her kittenish impulse was to play with the Bat left at her mercy, but there was time a plenty for that. She leapt out the window and into the night, safe in the knowledge that even Batman's famed escapology skills would not free him from the chains that bound him to the bed. *** Dick found a note waiting for him on the kitchen table. Alfred had been called away in the night to attend to his sick grand-daughter. Unusual, thought Dick, only to be reassured on finding the flip-side saying his costume had been cleaned and pressed and would be waiting for him in the usual place. Barbara Gordon was innocently curled up on the sofa in the library when Dick entered. She burbled a few cute noises before waking herself and noticing Dick with a smile. She unfurled, stretching out like a roused tabby cat. "Good morning," she said. "What are we doing today?" In Bruce's absence they attended a dry function for the city horticultural society that was splashing money around to try and buy back respectability after recent events involving one Poison Ivy. Dick listened as the Chairman of the society nervously chattered away, trying to set his own mind at ease. They had thrown such a party after Batgirl brought down the evil plant-lover (making the most of the few garlands of tulips that hadn't been turned into lethal carnivorous psycho-tulips). All the bad times were behind them they thought, but now with the fire at the Asylum... Robin murmured sympathy as the Chairman gnawed nervously at his green fingers. "I've heard rumours that they have some sort of brain-wiping device up there," continued the chairman. "Well, I hope they've use it on that foul Poison Ivy. Though frankly I don't know if you can truly wipe clean that kind of evil. Ah, Miss Gordon, isn't it? Daughter of our dear Police Commissioner and what an exquisite rose she is." Barbara walked over, enraptured by the scent of a bunch of flowers she had accumulated from the various stalls around the conference hall. She wore a pleasant green gown embroidered with elaborate lily leaves. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance," said Barbara, cordially, her bashful smile and glance at her toes masking the acid whisper of: "again." On leaving, Robin was too preoccupied to ask what had prompted Barbara to offer to water the exhibits. He thought instead of Endermeier's device and ignored Barbara as she explained the miracles Wayne Industries miracle-grow fertiliser could do for a certain Chairman's Venus flytraps. As night fell, Batgirl led Robin out above the streets of Gotham. The fallout from the Arkham burning had been slight, a few minor criminals who hadn't been exposed to Endermeier's device were running amok until they ran into the caped crimefighters. Of more concern were rumours that a new, even more vile supervillain was now in Gotham and concocting a plan more fiendish that any previously unleashed upon the city ("Preposterous", was the Commissioner's response on the local news, "what about the time the Joker took over the cable network and replaced all the programmes with wall-to-wall infomercials - what could be more fiendish than that?"). As more reports came in of unusual crimes, Batgirl told Robin to investigate a break-in at the offices of the Gotham Reporter newspaper. She would aid the police in breaking a persistent smuggling ring bringing in drugs through the docks. Robin acquiesced and as he watched Batgirl disappear into the shadows immediately wondered why he had so eagerly followed her command. It felt natural to bow to a superior will, which made no sense as he was surely the senior crimefighter here. He shook his head. It had felt unnatural pulling on his boxer shorts this morning and not helping those thieves raiding the department store, so he wasn't sure of what he felt any more. There were no signs of a break-in at the newspaper offices. The only evidence was from an elderly cleaner who swore he heard a noise by the science and technology desk. Robin found someone had indeed logged into the computer system and downloaded some recent articles onto disk. As Robin left the building the cleaner shouted after him. "On second thought, it was probably nothing. I shouldn't have called you. Probably just a cat or something." Robin returned to the rooftops even more ill at ease. Catwoman was loose, of that he now had no doubt. Could that explain Batman's disappearance? Before he could ponder the matter further he intercepted a most unwelcome piece of news broadcast over the police radio. Crossing the city with desperate speed he reached the Police Headquarters to find Batgirl already there, blankly keeping her composure as the bemused attendant officers spilled the scant details of how her Father had been kidnapped from his very own office. *** Catwoman slipped back into Selina Kyle's apartment. She shuddered with pleasure on completing a perfect crime. No clues, no traces, a pure felonious excursion that meant her fingerprints were all over it. The Toad Wonder and Ratgirl would know such a flawless break-in could only be accomplished by Catwoman. She was that good, which made her feel good. Still, there was no time to hang around. Bruce Wayne, Batman, remained unconscious on her bed. She should leave him - Catwoman brushed a lip with a clawed finger - but she hadn't had the opportunity to play with him yet. *** Robin stopped dead on entering the room. Through the one-way glass he could see The Joker patiently answering a detective's questions. The twisted grin was missing, or at least drooping, as was the air of self- importance. The face, however, remained unmistakeable. And for some reason Robin felt flushed. Butterflies filled his stomach. When the Joker's words drifted through the speakers on the desk, he felt like jumping to attention. He felt like he'd found something he'd been missing. "They don't know anything," whispered Batgirl in his ear, snapping him out of his reverie. Robin turned and found her smiling slyly. He frowned, but knew how having loved ones placed in danger could affect people in strange ways. "Don't worry," he replied, rubbing her shoulder and keeping his voice low so no one else would hear, "we'll find your Father." "I'm sure we will," replied Batgirl, looking downcast before hugging Robin tightly. *** Selina Kyle found an appropriately upmarket apartment on the opposite side of town. She used the name Julie Kitt. It was unlikely to provide much of a false trail if someone really wanted to find her, but at least rich neighbours had less incentive to talk if hard currency was waived in front of their face. Bruce was recovering, but slowly. She guessed he had scars other than those visible in need of healing. While the news told of the city yet again descending into chaos, Selina avidly read through the articles she had stolen from the Gotham Reporter. *** They made no progress on finding either Batman or Commissioner Gordon. Sometimes Dick would find Barbara depressed, choking back the tears, at other times she seemed full of joy and gaiety. There had been no word from Alfred and they seemed unable to stem the tide of violence that was consuming the city. Dick felt sure there was some overall picture that connected the pieces of this fragmented puzzle, but was unable to see it. That Batgirl had banned him from entering the Batcave and using the Batcomputer only compounded his frustration. Still, she was going through a difficult time and it was probably best he just do what he was told. There were also the drugs. Word had it that a new designer addiction had been streaming in through the docks. As Robin, he had recovered several small consignments, but even with Batgirl's help, the pair seemed unable to find the big shipments. "Dick, get changed," shouted Barbara's voice from the hall, "the Mayor's just been kidnapped." Dick broke into action, racing from the kitchen. The cleaning of Barbara's underwear, provocative strips languishing in the soapy sink water, would have to wait. *** Selina laughed. It had all suddenly clicked when reading Endermeier's analogy of his machine like a psychic vacuum cleaner, sucking out all a patient's undesirable inclinations. Clearly, whatever accident had broken the machine had flipped it from suck to blow. It must have been sporadically ejecting personalities at random when they entered the room. The blue energy that had knocked out her and Bruce reinserted Selina and Catwoman's old persona through happy coincidence. But did that mean Bruce had succumbed to the same consequence? It wasn't like he had been the well-mannered blank slate she had been beforehand. She giggled to herself as a naughty thought occurred to her; a way of testing Bruce's character. He was conscious regularly now, though still hazy at times. They could hold conversations, even if sometimes it seemed he thought he was somewhere else. Or maybe someone else. The last time he woke he asked if she would release him from his bondage and she kissed him, despite his protests, and said no. Now she decided she would. *** Bruce Wayne was not as large a man as his armoured costume suggested. He was taller than the slender Selina, but not by much. His frame was broader, but she felt she could disguise that. Giving him a sleeping draught to make sure he didn't wake up at an inappropriate time, Catwoman slipped out to procure some necessary items. She returned less than two hours later, barely able to contain her excitement. Selina stripped out of her catsuit, sniffing at crotch and licking at the juices she had excreted during her recent adventure. She felt horny as hell. Returning to the bedroom where Bruce slept in a pair of silk pyjamas, Selina set about unshackling him. Once he was free she diligently waxed his legs, chest and face, satisfied only when his skin was perfectly smooth. Her excitement increased on seeing his erection through his briefs. She felt the urge to suck his cock there and then, but she didn't want to disturb his dreams just yet. Removing the underwear, she produced some of her own. With difficulty she slid a pair of black panties up Batman's legs and then frustratedly waited for the dream and erection to pass to allow her to tuck his member out of sight. Then she rolled him over into a corset, fastening the strong material as tight as she could. For a moment, Bruce's breathing became laboured, but he quickly got used to the constriction. His shape was looking more effeminate now, two breast forms applied to his chest enhancing the illusion. Daubing make-up over the join it soon became difficult to spot where his flesh ended and the artificial substitutes began. She had her reservations about the effectiveness of the mask until she pasted it onto his face. The material was so thin as to be almost transparent, but it miraculously filled out his lips and suggested higher cheekbones. A pair of contact lens added with difficulty, the wig and suddenly, for Selina, it was like looking into a mirror. Whether the voice-modulator she strapped to his throat would work she didn't know, but she didn't much care at the moment. Selina applied some make-up, her hands shaking as the sexual tension coursing from her vagina threatened to interrupt her work with a rush of pleasure. But she wasn't ready to climax yet, she wanted to saviour this foreplay. Finally, she produced the catsuit. It was slightly different to her own, but no one save her would ever know the difference. She awkwardly pulled the slick fabric up Batman's legs and she froze, aware of the heavy thumping of her heart, as he muttered in his sleep. The drug was wearing off. With less caution, she forced Batman into the catsuit, pulling the clawed gloves tight over his hands and making sure the spike-heeled boots fit snugly over his feet. Finally, she pulled the cat-like cowl over his head. Breathing heavily, she ran her hands over her plaything, her Catwoman doll. The smooth PVC sent excited sensations through fingertips and she writhed her body against her toy, sliding her crotch over the black thigh, working herself with cat-like whimpers towards orgasm. Then Bruce Wayne stirred. The instant of panic cooled Selina's heat and with a kiss on those red-painted lips she was off the bed and into the wardrobe. She pulled the door shut as the man known as Batman awoke. Through the slits in the wardrobe door, Selina nervously watched Bruce return to consciousness. It was difficult to think of him as Bruce now; he was her, Catwoman, and that thought was erotic as hell. *** Bruce Wayne opened his eyes. The surroundings were oddly familiar. Various memories prodded his waking mind, they seemed to be fighting for his attention. A lifetime of experience reminded him he was Bruce Wayne, but... He closed his eyes. His hands ran across his body and felt familiar smooth curves. His lips felt appropriately full as he licked them. He touched his face with a clawed finger and purred. Selina Kyle opened her eyes. She stretched, revelling in the tight bodysuit as it hugged her lithe figure. "Miaow," she said to herself as she delicately rolled from the bed and stood with practiced ease on her high-heels. Of course, she wasn't Selina Kyle. Selina Kyle was that timid alter- ego she was forced to employ through the unfortunate dictates of circumstance. No, she was Catwoman and it was this identity that walked over to the mirror and relished the sexy shape posing as her reflection. There was no sight more alluring to her than this body, running adoring hands over her cat-skin. She thought she heard a whine of pleasure from the wardrobe, but discounted that as her imagination. An imagination that, for some reason, showed her Batman staring back at her from that mirror when she closed her eyes. This was wrong, he thought. Then he opened his eyes again - this is so right, she thought. Looking down, Catwoman saw a copy of the Gotham Reporter left open on the dresser. Prominent was a picture of the Irubis Sapphire, the attached story explaining how the fantastic jewel was part of a three-month display opening at Gotham Museum that very night. Catwoman purred and removed the tools of her trade from a drawer. Attaching her whip to her thin belt, she silently slipped out of the window. And Selina Kyle burst from the wardrobe, falling to floor with a satisfied grin, shuddering under waves of orgasmic pleasure. *** Robin was patrolling above the Museum, sure that such a prize would draw Catwoman out from whatever lair she had been hiding in for the past weeks. And sure enough, when he caught a flicker from a shadow in the corner of his eye, he swung over to a skylight to find Catwoman peering down at the exhibits inside. She showed no alarm when he arrived, looking up with a faint smile of recognition on her face. Robin always faced Catwoman with a mixture of feelings. She was bad, a villain that had to be brought to justice, but she also dripping with sex appeal and knew how best to flaunt that. Oddly, this time around, he also felt a new emotion. What was it? Jealousy? Envy? If only she had curves like Catwoman. Only she... he wasn't here to admire her appreciable assets. "I'm going to have to take you in, Catwoman," stated Robin. For a moment Catwoman didn't respond, as if she thought he was referring to someone else, but then she realised and yes, that name was absolutely right. "Oh, purr-lease Robin," it was strange watching a cat try to do a puppy-dog expression, "can't we perhaps negotiate?" She was close now, circling him and panting so he could feel her warm breath gracing the cheek beneath his mask. "You know that's not an option," replied Robin. If he could take her in without a fight that was by far the best course of action. Catwoman stepped around in front of him, comfortably taller with her dangerously high heels. She clasped her hands behind her own back and thrust out her chest, Robin receiving an eyeful of her ample bosom. "I will of course go quietly," said Catwoman, theatrically, looking down at Robin with innocently raised eyebrows. Then she winked and leaned forward into a kiss that caught him by surprise. He was lost for a moment as her tongue invaded his mouth and taunted and teased his own. Then she was dancing around him, laughing. He realised with shock that the Batrope from his utility belt was now being wrapped around him. He struggled against the thin wire, but knew it was far too strong. Catwoman left him immobilised. With a blown kiss and a flick of the wrist she knocked him over, clattering to the ground still bound by his own rope. But how could she have known how to find it? Much less release it from its secure pouch? He heard the wail of the alarm moments later, signalling Catwoman had achieved her objective. He didn't offer much hope that she might be trapped during her escape. His embarrassment was compounded when Batgirl arrived on the scene, looking down at him disapprovingly. He finally managed to struggle free and avoided Batgirl's reproving stare. He felt so bad about disappointing her, especially after she ordered him to stay at the mansion. Fortunately he had good news. "I think I found Batman." *** Catwoman dropped back into her apartment to find a stranger lying in her bed. The whip was quickly loose from her belt and raised threateningly. The Irubis jewel was quickly secreted in a draw as temporary security. "Oh no," cried a weak voice from the bed, "it's the dastardly Catwoman." Catwoman smiled and switched on the light. He amusement faded when she saw Selina Kyle's face staring back at her in horror. "Who are you?" demanded Catwoman. "Miss, Mistress, err, Sir, my name's Julie Kitt," explained the woman on the bed. Catwoman noticed the familiar face was framed by blonde hair. Maybe this doppelganger was just coincidence. "I've been on holiday, I just got back. This is my apartment... and I demand you leave!" So the little girl had worked up some righteous indignation had she? Catwoman laughed. The details were hazy, but Catwoman guessed she had appropriated this flat in Miss Kitt's absence. Now the owner was back to regret this contrivance of fate. Swaying her hips confidently, Catwoman walked to the end of the bed. Purring as she leaned over, Catwoman tugged at the sheets, drawing a little scream from Julie, who pulled the sheets back up protect her modesty. "The cat just wishes to see a little pussy," meowed Catwoman. Julie looked aghast, robbed of her indignation. She tried to scream when Catwoman whipped away the sheet, but no sound was forthcoming. In any case, the neighbours were all high on BG - drugged to their eyeballs on the narcotic that was swamping the city. If any of the stoned residents did hear, their corrupted state of mind was more likely to suggest they join the fun rather than call the police. Catwoman padded onto the bed, approaching her prey slowly, leisurely, allowing the terror to build up in the poor little creature. When Julie tried to jump off the bed she was blocked by a flick of the whip, or a slash of the claws. Catwoman could feel Julie trembling as she sniffed around the girl's patiently painted toenails. Keeping her eyes fixed on Julie, Catwoman licked her foot and relished the squirming it produced. Julie didn't move as Catwoman, on all fours, moved even closer, running her hands up the girl's thighs, ruffling the silken pyjamas. "No, please," begged Julie. She even managed a brief, pleading smile. Catwoman dragged down the waistband of the pyjamas with her teeth and stared at the neatly trimmed pubic hair. The blonde strands assuaged her fears and she licked at the swollen lips the hair flanked. Julie moaned, trying to recall if she had remembered to hide the bottle of hair colouring in the toilet cistern. Then she gasped as Catwoman roughly inserted the handle of the whip into her hole. Tears were streaming down Julie's face as Catwoman licked her throat, tore free her breasts and brusquely massaged them with her free hand. The Catwoman kissed her hard, violating her unwilling mouth with a rapacious tongue. The girl going under the assumed name of Julie Kitt cried still. She had never been happier. *** "It was him, Catwoman... I mean, I'm sure Batman, for some bizarre reason was masquerading as Catwoman. He was the only one who could have known which pouch held my Batrope." Barbara stared at Dick with a peculiar smile on her face. "And he really believed it," continued Dick, remembering that kiss and fighting back the urge to spit in front of his friend. "He thought he was Catwoman. I just wish I could figure out why. I used to be so good at this." Barbara Gordon didn't know why Batman might think he was Catwoman, but she could venture an educated guess. Now was not the time to play her hand however. For the time being she would just savour the delicious irony that Batman had also gone bad. Only one caped crusader to go. "You mustn't beat yourself up about it," Barbara told him, forcefully. "But Gotham's in chaos. We've tried, we can't stop it." The day had been spent campaigning with Barbara, whose political reservations were put aside as she tried to offer a firm voice around which the beleaguered people of the city could rally. If a mayoral election was held tomorrow, Dick had no doubt the young girl with the winning smile would win by a landslide. With her hand on the tiller, he was sure they could turn this ship around. "Look, I know I should be preparing for tomorrow's election," said Candidate Gordon, "but right now you're more important. I think I know exactly what will make you feel better." Dick looked up at her hopefully. "Shopping," Barbara said, positively. *** Selina, in the guise of the blonde-haired Julie Kitt, had stopped counting the number of orgasms a long time ago. They had soon flowed into one, continuous flood of pleasure. Bruce, wearing her face smeared with lipstick, faced Selina, Catwoman cowl drawn back to let his temporary mane of black hair tumble over shoulders. His catsuit was open down the middle to allow his false breasts to rub against hers and his cock was free from his black panties, penetrating her as they bucked together in synchronised passion. At the moment of climax, the two faces of Catwoman kissed, the pressure on sensitive lips heightening the moment, tongues entwined in a paradoxical moment of unity shared by two people of the same mind. Selina gasped for air, giddy for oxygen after reaching the heights of human bliss. Then her lover rolled Selina onto her back and joyfully she looked up. And the joy vanished. Bruce had torn off his mask and was looking down at her seriously. "I think you've got some explaining to do." *** Dick enjoyed the shopping trip far more than he was expecting. He had suffered similar experiences before, often with his Aunt and the very occasional girlfriend, but never had he felt so immersed in the venture that he could offer serious comment on his companion'