Batman Court of the BBC Owls – Issue 3: The Brutal & Owl DNA Twist

Batman:Court of the BBC Owls – Issue 3: The Brutal **** & Owl DNA Twist

The crime scene was tucked deep in a derelict warehouse district near the docks — the kind of place Bruce’s Bright Future Initiative had not yet reached. Yellow police tape fluttered in the cold night wind. Detective Harvey Bullock stood with a cigar clamped between his teeth, his rumpled trench coat doing little to hide the exhaustion on his face.

“Jesus, Bats… this one’s nasty even by Gotham standards,” Bullock grunted as the Dark Knight dropped from the shadows, cape settling like liquid night. “John Doe. Male. Been dead maybe six hours. Pinned to the wall like some goddamn macabre art piece.”

Batman’s white lenses narrowed. The victim was crucified upright with a dozen old throwing knives — antique, ornate, clearly chosen for symbolism. Each handle bore a carved owl insignia, the eyes glinting faintly under forensic lights. Blood had dried in rivulets down the wall, forming dark patterns.

“No identification. No wallet. Face beaten beyond recognition,” Bullock continued. “But the killer left a message. Or at least… something. Thought you’d want first crack before the techs burn it.”

Batman stepped closer, gloved fingers tracing the knives. The precision of the throws suggested elite training — Talon level. His mind raced through possibilities while the stench of **** filled his nostrils.

“I’ll need samples,” Batman said, voice low and gravelly.

Bullock nodded. “Already bagged what I could. But this… this feels personal.”

While Batman worked the crime scene, another kind of heat was building across town in one of the half-completed community centers funded by the Bright Future Initiative. The building was still under construction — exposed beams, plastic sheeting, dim work lights casting long shadows.

Titus Jackson moved through the space like a predator in his vigilante persona: Cardinal. A sleek red-and-black suit hugged his massive 6’4” frame, accentuating every cut muscle. The mask covered the upper half of his face, but his powerful jaw and dark skin were unmistakable. The Court had given him this alias to operate in the shadows while gathering intelligence — and while claiming his prizes.

Selina Kyle waited for him on the upper scaffolding level, dressed in a skintight black catsuit zipped dangerously low, cleavage spilling out. Her nipples were already hard against the material.

“Cardinal,” she purred, using his alias with a sultry smile. “You said you had information on the ****. But we both know why you really called me here.”

Titus/Cardinal’s deep voice rumbled. “Information first. Then I fuck that married pussy until you can’t walk straight.”

He pulled her against his hard body. Even through the suits, Selina could feel the massive bulge pressing against her stomach. Her hands roamed his chest, tracing the ridges of his abs.

“Bruce is at the crime scene right now,” she whispered, biting her lip. “Playing detective while you play with his woman.”

Cardinal unzipped her catsuit slowly, peeling it down to expose her full, heavy breasts. He cupped one, thumb circling the stiff nipple, then leaned down to suck it hard. Selina moaned, arching into him, fingers tangling in his short hair.

His free hand slid between her legs, rubbing her through the suit. The material was already soaked. “Dripping for BBC again. Does the Bat even make you wet anymore?”

“Never like this…” Selina gasped as two thick fingers pushed inside her, curling expertly. She rode his hand shamelessly, hips grinding, soft ecchi moans echoing in the empty building. Her juices ran down his wrist.

Cardinal pulled his fingers out and made her suck them clean, eyes locked on hers. Then he freed his monstrous 15-inch BBC. The veiny black shaft throbbed in the cool air, pre-cum beading at the tip. Selina dropped to her knees instantly, nuzzling it reverently.

“It’s so much heavier than Bruce’s… so much thicker…” She licked from balls to tip in long, worshipful strokes, tongue tracing every vein. Her cheeks hollowed as she tried to take the head, throat already bulging. Gagging, slurping, drooling — the wet sounds were obscene. Cardinal held her head gently but firmly, feeding her more inches until her eyes watered and crossed in budding ahegao.

After several minutes of sloppy throat-fucking, he lifted her effortlessly, ripped the crotch of her suit wider, and pressed her back against a concrete pillar. One powerful thrust buried half his length inside her tight, cheating pussy.

“Fuuuuck—!” Selina’s head fell back, mouth open in a perfect O, tongue slightly out. The belly bulge was immediate and pronounced, rising visibly with every inch he fed her. “You’re splitting me… so deep… Bruce’s little white cock feels like a finger compared to this!”

Cardinal began pounding her with long, powerful strokes. Each thrust made her breasts bounce wildly. He sucked on her neck, leaving marks she would have to hide later. The wet slapping of flesh filled the space — plap plap plap — mixed with her rising screams of pleasure.

He spun her around into doggy style against the pillar, gripping her hips and driving even deeper. Selina’s claws scratched the concrete as she came hard, pussy squirting around his thick shaft. “Yes! Cardinal! Own this pussy!”

For over an hour he used her in every position the scaffolding allowed: standing full nelson (lifting her completely while impaling her), prone bone on a tarp-covered floor, and finally reverse cowgirl so she could look out over the half-built “brighter Gotham” Bruce was funding while her womb was flooded.

Cardinal roared and erupted. Massive, thick jets of cum pumped directly into her womb. Her belly swelled noticeably, distending with the sheer volume. When he finally pulled out, a heavy torrent of white seed gushed from her gaping hole, pooling between her thighs.

Selina lay there twitching, tongue lolling, eyes rolled back in full ahegao bliss. “I’m ruined… completely ruined for him…”

Cardinal slapped her cum-covered ass. “Good. Now go home leaking my load. And tell me everything Bruce finds at that crime scene.”

Back at the warehouse crime scene, Batman had isolated himself. He sprayed the wall with linseed oil and carefully applied a controlled flame. The hidden message slowly revealed itself in dark, burning letters across the bloody surface:

“BRUCE WAYNE WILL DIE TOMORROW.”

Batman stared, jaw tight. The threat was direct. Personal. The owl insignia on the knives confirmed his growing suspicions — the Court of Owls was real, and they were moving openly now.

He took tissue samples from under the victim’s fingernails himself. Back in the Batmobile, he ran the analysis through the mobile Batcomputer. The results loaded with a chilling chime.

DNA Match: 99.8% — Richard Grayson (Nightwing)

Batman froze. “Dick… no.” His mind reeled. The Arkham riot partnership, the DNA at a Court-linked **** — it didn’t add up, but the evidence was damning. Paranoia crept in. Was his closest ally compromised? Or being framed?

He tried to contact Nightwing. No answer.

Later that night, Selina returned to Wayne Manor. She had cleaned up superficially but deliberately left Titus’s thick cum still deep inside her. Bruce was already in the cave, brooding over the DNA results.

When he finally came to bed, exhausted and tense, Selina was waiting in sheer lingerie. She pulled him close, kissing him deeply. Her tongue carried the faintest salty trace.

“You taste… different,” Bruce murmured.

“New lipstick,” she lied smoothly, guiding his hand between her legs. She was still slick and loose. Bruce entered her missionary style, groaning at how wet and warm she felt. He didn’t last long — a few dozen thrusts before spilling his modest load.

Selina faked her orgasm, moaning theatrically while internally laughing at how pathetic it felt after Cardinal’s 15-inch destruction. As Bruce rolled off and fell into troubled sleep, she pressed her cum-mixed pussy against his thigh, letting more of Titus’s superior seed leak onto the man who thought he owned her.

Meanwhile, Cardinal (Titus) met briefly with Lincoln March in a shadowed penthouse. Lincoln adjusted his owl pin.

“The message is delivered. Wayne is rattled. The DNA will drive a wedge between him and Grayson. Continue your… personal work with the Cat. Break his spirit before we break his body.”

Titus smirked, stroking his still-hard cock through his suit. “Already leaking down her legs. By tomorrow, Bruce Wayne will be praying for ****.”

The Court of Owls watched through hidden cameras as Selina gently stroked Bruce’s hair while he slept, whispering, “Poor little cuck… you have no idea what’s coming.”

End of Issue 3