Batman Court of the BBC Owls – Issue 4: Court of Owls Exposed & Batman’s Firs

Batman Court of the BBC Owls – Issue 4: Court of Owls Exposed & Batman’s First

Batman crouched on a gargoyle high above Gotham’s financial district, the city lights blurring beneath the rain. The hidden message still burned in his mind: “Bruce Wayne will die tomorrow.” The DNA match to Dick Grayson haunted every calculation. He had spent hours in the Batcave cross-referencing owl insignias, ancient Gotham family lineages, and whispered legends.

The Court of Owls.

What began as myth slowly crystallized into nightmare. Encrypted files, hidden bank transfers, and a pattern of influential deaths spanning centuries pointed to a secret cabal that truly ruled Gotham from the shadows — old money families, politicians, judges, and assassins. Lincoln March’s rapid rise suddenly made terrifying sense.

“Alfred,” Batman growled into his comm, “cross-reference March with the Haly’s Circus fire cover-up and any owl iconography in Wayne family archives.”

“Already doing so, Master Bruce. But I must advise caution. This goes deeper than any enemy you’ve faced.”

Batman launched into the night. His first lead: an abandoned opera house rumored to host Court rituals. He infiltrated through the rafters, silent as ****.

In the grand auditorium below, hooded figures in ornate owl masks stood in a circle around a central altar. Lincoln March stood unmasked at the head, voice smooth and commanding. “The Bright Future Initiative is ours. Wayne’s money rebuilds the city while we tighten control. Tomorrow, Bruce Wayne dies — publicly broken first.”

A feminine voice purred from the shadows behind Batman. “Looking for answers, little Bat?”

He spun — too late. The Talon struck like lightning. A seductive female assassin in a skintight black-and-gold owl-themed suit that clung to every curve: full breasts, narrow waist, wide hips, and powerful thighs. Her mask featured sharp owl eyes and a beak-like visor. Lethal grace radiated from her.

Their fight erupted across the rafters and stage. Batman’s fists met precise, deadly counters. She was faster, more agile, trained from birth. A kick to his ribs reopened last night’s wound. He grunted in pain.

“You’re good,” the Talon laughed, voice sultry and mocking. “But you’re soft. Weak where it matters.” She pinned him momentarily against a velvet curtain, grinding her body against his. Her hand boldly cupped his crotch through the suit. “Mmm. Pathetic. No wonder your woman seeks real cock.”

Batman shoved her off, but the words landed. They traded blows across the theater — chandeliers shattered, marble cracked. Talon flipped over him, whispering in his ear, “Your precious Catwoman is getting stretched right now. Want to see?”

She activated a wrist device. A holographic feed projected in mid-air — live.

The Humiliation Feed

In a luxurious penthouse funded indirectly through the Bright Future Initiative, Selina Kyle was on her knees before Cardinal — Titus Jackson in his red-and-black vigilante suit, mask pushed up to reveal his chiseled, dark-skinned face.

Titus had his massive 15-inch BBC fully out, heavy and throbbing. Selina worshipped it shamelessly. Her hands stroked the veiny shaft while her tongue bathed every inch.

“Fuck, Cardinal… this cock ruins me every single time,” she moaned, voice thick with lust. She took him deep, throat bulging obscenely as she gagged and drooled. Mascara ran in rivers down her cheeks. Her eyes already showed the first signs of ahegao — crossed, glassy, ****.

Titus gripped her hair. “Louder, slut. Tell the camera how Bruce’s little white dick compares.”

Selina pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to the glistening BBC head. “Bruce’s cock is nothing! Tiny, quick, useless. This 15-inch Black monster reaches places he’ll never touch. It owns me!”

She stood and bent over the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the glowing new construction sites of Bruce’s vision. Titus ripped her catsuit open and slammed in balls-deep in one thrust.

Selina screamed in ecstasy, tongue lolling fully into ahegao. The belly bulge was massive — her toned stomach distending visibly with every thrust as the huge cock reshaped her insides. “Yes! Fuck! Destroying my pussy! Bruce could never — never make me feel this full!”

Talon **** Batman to watch every second while they continued their deadly dance. She whispered taunts between strikes: “Look at how her juices drip for him. Hear how she screams for superior BBC while you fight for a city that already belongs to us.”

In the feed, Titus pounded Selina mercilessly. Doggy style against the glass, her tits pressed flat, nipples hard. He lifted one leg high, driving deeper. The wet plap-plap-plap of heavy balls slapping her clit echoed. Selina squirted violently, soaking the floor, body convulsing.

“Gonna cum — again! Cardinal, I’m your BBC whore!”

Titus flipped her into full nelson, lifting her completely off the ground. Her legs kicked helplessly as he used her like a fleshlight, the 15-inch shaft disappearing and reappearing with obscene squelching sounds. Her belly bulged rhythmically. Drool ran down her chin.

Batman’s focus fractured. A punch from Talon sent him crashing through a balcony. He rolled to his feet, breathing hard, cock unwillingly half-hard inside his suit from the twisted sight.

The feed continued. Titus roared and unloaded. Massive, thick ropes of cum flooded Selina’s womb. Her belly swelled like she was pregnant. When he pulled out, a gushing waterfall of white seed poured from her gaping, ruined pussy onto the floor. Selina collapsed in twitching afterglow, tongue hanging, eyes rolled back, fingering herself to push more cum out.

“Thank you… King Titus… Bruce gets the leftovers tonight.”

Batman barely escaped the opera house, wounded and shaken. The Talon’s laughter followed him into the night. “Tomorrow you die, little cuck. But tonight, go home and taste what a real man left inside your woman.”

Wayne Manor – Personal Humiliation

Bruce staggered into the master bedroom well after midnight. Selina waited on the bed in sheer black lingerie, legs spread invitingly. Her pussy still glistened — freshly fucked, lips puffy and slightly gaping. The scent of sex and another man’s cum was unmistakable.

“Rough night, baby?” she purred, pulling him close. She kissed him deeply, letting him taste the faint residue on her tongue.

Bruce tried to take control, but Selina guided him down. She rode him reverse cowgirl so he couldn’t see her face. Her pussy felt loose, sloppy, far wetter than normal. Bruce thrust upward, but the friction was minimal after Titus’s destruction.

“Harder, Bruce… fuck me like you mean it,” she moaned — half-faked, half-mocking. Internally she compared every inadequate stroke to the womb-pounding she’d received earlier.

Bruce lasted less than two minutes. He groaned and added his modest load to the creamy mess already inside her. Selina faked an orgasm, clenching around him while texting Titus one-handed under the pillow: Cuck just came. Still full of you. He has no idea.

As Bruce lay spent and brooding about the Court and the DNA evidence, Selina pressed her cum-filled cunt against his softening cock, letting the mixed seed leak onto him. “The Court is real, Bruce,” she whispered sweetly. “They’re going to take everything from you… and I can’t wait to watch.”

Bruce’s mind fractured further. The images of Selina’s ahegao face on that 15-inch BBC burned behind his eyes. For the first time, the World’s Greatest Detective felt truly powerless.

Court Chamber – Post-Humiliation

Lincoln March removed his owl mask, smiling at the Talon and a shadowed Cardinal. “Phase one complete. Batman is rattled. His woman is broken in. Tomorrow we tighten the noose.”

Titus stroked his still-hard BBC, smirking. “He’ll watch live next time. I want the Bat staring into his woman’s eyes while I breed her in the Batcave.”

The Court of Owls had begun their true game. Bruce Wayne’s public **** was coming — but his spirit would die first, one creampie at a time.

End of Issue 4