Chapter 4: Nightwing Debriefs with Her Friend in the

It is little surprise that the citizens of Blüdhaven view their police **** as an apathetic institution, long scorned by the lack of dedication to serving justice. They act not as devoted lovers of her people, but like a whore bought with the lowest affordable rate—only servicing with half-hearted hand jobs, disinterested lap dances, and other shallow affections, more for the sake of appearances than out of any desire to please.

The BPD rarely responds for the sake of the victim. Moreso because the offense inconveniences or embarrasses them directly, if political or other outside forces compel them to put at least the portrayal of effort, or if enticed with the promise of greasing their palms or wetting their femme cocks and pussies.

This disappointment has deeply conditioned the people of Blüdhaven to this viewpoint upon their government-appointed protectors. But it is a misunderstanding on their part. They are not ineffective in their mission of service. What the public does not realize is that their goal is not to service them. But to protect Blüdhaven dark equilibrium.

They kneel before the criminal lords, crooked businesses, and dirty officials, putting their hands and mouth to ensure that their true masters are pleased. They allow the major criminal powers to conduct their illegal dealings, looking the other way on the less-than-legal practices of the companies the city host, and grant deniability to the government while still allowing it to benefit from afar.

And when something appears to threaten the precarious balance between the city’s corrupt powers. They show they are fully effective at enforcing their law and order.

Today is as such. Blüdhaven officers arrived at the aftermath of Nightwing’s runaway train brawl with the False-Face Society. Following the trail of fallen cars, it seemed like all the precinct came out to the aftermath. Scores of police securing the mile-long crime scene, redirecting traffic, and assisting emergency services taking care of the vehicles. The False-Facers knocked off the train, but fortunately alive, were rounded up throughout the trail.

But not a certain vulpine. Officers found one particular convertible in bushes, airbags deployed but otherwise empty.

The scene stretched almost across the Atlantic corniche, leading to where the train stopped near Bailey Church, right before reaching Littleneck Narrows Bridge. The train operator was providing a statement of her **** collaboration. The cars still on the train were being filed for evidence. And it carried the most significant remaining concentration of defeated False Facers.

Everything is directed as Inspector Phyllis Soames instructed. The greatest detective of the Blüdhaven Police Department, a crucial agent of the city’s corruption. She carries an authority that technically does not exist in the precinct’s official ranking hierarchy yet held unquestioned power over the pawns.

Soames was, of course, assigned to oversee the arrest of the False-Face soldiers. The only one Redhorn trusted to address this matter. And to control how it was processed. When someone is needed to mend the fragile balance Blüdhaven stands on, such as an invader thinking they can claim new territory. Or a nosy spandex wearer, with an admittedly sweet booty, claiming they will be this city’s heroine. The powers that be tell themselves, “Better call Soames.”

The Inspector loomed over hogtied masked minions. Knocked out and wrapped like a present with the remains of the car’s coverings. If they were conscious, they could appreciate the sight of the sandy blond Femme, with a swept-back pixie cut, above them. Blessed with a lithe supermodel body bloated with fantastic curves, three times the size one would think for that figure. Ultra perky slutbags and a heart-shaped ass protrude from her smooth lean porcelain body.

Soames didn’t follow the new police issuance, preferring her style. A button-up shirt, cut to become a crop top, then cut even further to where the hem barely covers the bottom of her nipples, a slight hint of pink peeking underneath. Enough ample overhanging underboob that one could shield themselves from the rain. Her purple tie lay on top like a cliff, hanging in between the valley between her nipples.

Under the shadow of Phyllis’s breast, her ultra crop-top revealed the entire length of her svelte abdomen. Her waist looks so thin one wonders how it could hold her chesty masses. The sensual alabaster skin finally ends at her low-riding tight leather slacks and belt. The top trim of the pants wasn’t straight but contoured on her waist like a thong. Its fabric was gripping her ass in a powerful grip lifting her big butt. Her belt was not holding up her pants at all. Side slanted from the weight of her badge. Her ensemble finished with a light tan trench coat draped on her shoulders, ironically like a cape.

Around her were three other officers that proved themselves dubious and unquestioning enough to include in her entourage, “Hey, never thought I’d get superheroes for my birthday.” “Wasn’t it a month ago, Feldscheim?” “I’m up for getting presents anytime, especially if it’s four superbabes wrapped like a present for me.”

Feldscheim was referring to the False-Facers donning the faces of heroic fighters of justice. Batgirl, Supergirl, and Wonder Woman. But their noble visages were perverted into a whorish image. Dolled in slutty makeup. Lips plumped up into tubes of plush fat. Facial muscles contorted into Ahegao faces. Eyes were rolling back into their skulls. And tongues lapped out like dogs.

Soames was holding the mask of the fourth Facer. Who wore the image of Nightwing herself. Like the others, she looked like a doughnut-lipped blowup doll rather than a superhero. The crook formally wearing it had a more prominent bump on her head.

Officer Feldscheim, still riding the high of her great wit, moved next to Soames. “Hey, Soames. Congrats. You can finally tell the Chief that you caught the bird.”

“Your right Feldscheim, and I can tell her that you’ve been disparaging our efforts to deal with our vigilante problem, can’t I lass?”

“...sorry ma’am. I’ll-i’ll go take care of the ones on the other side.” The whipped blonde officer backed off, **** to make herself useful.

“You want me to wake one up for questioning.” the olive-skinned Dannemeyer asked, ignoring her squirming associate, “make them explain this?”

“Yeah, what possessed them to make such a mess all over Atlantic Road?” Batewoman wondered as well. Licking her chocolaty lips, “All for some used cars.”

“Don’t worry your pretty selves about it. These cosplayers will sing their stories in interrogation.”

*VVVVVRRRRR*

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. With how tight they were, it sent a pleasant tingle to her femme cock. It knew who was messaging her and looked forward to the conversation.

She got out her pack of cigarettes for her excuse. “Taking a smoke to think about things. Finish things for me here and have the reports on my desk dearies.” Leaving in the middle of the investigation, yet no one dared to question why openly.

Taking several paces to make sure she was good and out of sight of her coworkers. Being seen would cause too many inconveniences for her. And her friend would prefer the obscurity and not have several cops shooting her on sight. The BPD isn't friendly with vigilantes like they are in Gotham, which was why Nightwing silently signaled her only “ally” in navigating the mire of Blüdhaven for an isolated meeting to discuss the scene.

“Looks like things got hairy. Sorry, you had to get in the middle of that, sweetie.” Soames greeted the shadows.“But I see you keep together in the face of adversity.”

Nightwing stepped out, her blue crest highlighted against the darkness. “If you mean that I survived the motor meat grinder you threw me in. Yeah, I came out alright.”

“I figured some armed masqueraders wouldn’t be too much for the scion of The Bat.” Soames brought up the blowjob Nightwing with both hands. She looked down and nakedly lusted in front of its inspiration, rubbing her pointer finger around the smooth rim of the too-large lips. “And I'm happy to see ya proved me right. Great job taking them down. Though we could have done without having cars dropped off every few blocks.”

Nightwing’s pouty lips got even more so. Not over the property damage, but over that slutty slander of her face. She should’ve thrown it into The Narrows. But ‘don’t tamper with the evidence’ was bored too deep in her head. “More details could have been helpful to mitigate the collateral. It would’ve been nice to have more intel than a bit of out-of-towners smuggling in the docks.”

“Maybe, but I figured a smart lass like yourself could figure it out.” Phyllis cheekily inserts a finger down into the mask’s puffy lips, deep in its fake throat. Then she inserted her middle, then hooked her thumb around a quarter of its circumference. Getting a good hook as she fingerfucked the whorish visage.

Watching Phyllis, Nightwing felt her own DSL’s pucker and suck on phantom penetrators. Her lips pinched into an inviting circle perfect for anything long and hard. Her tongue lapped at fingers that weren’t there. They pinched and pulled it out of her mouth. Until she sucked the fingers back in deeper than before, she sucked in the air in her mouth, creating a vacuuming suckface that matched the mask.

Eventually, Phyllis pulled out her digits with a wet POP and played with the saliva sticking on her fingers. It must have been left by the False Facer wearing it.

It had to be. Nightwing thought as she wiped saliva from her mouth.

Soames continued, licking off the mess on her fingers. “Plus, I figured I didn’t need to spell out for ya something we both know. Your Black Mask is stirring trouble. She wants to get her grubby hands on this town. Make our mobs into her bitches and take this town as her concubine.”

“She’s the problem, after all. She’s the reason you’ve graced our little city with yer presence, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“No?

“There’s much more going on. And you know that Phyllis Soames. But you’re only sharing a little of the picture.”

“And what, pray tell am I leaving unfinished in my illustration?”

“Someone nearly wiped out Angela’s syndicate. The Queen of Blüdhaven’s underground is gone. Twenty-one of her girls ended up in Gotham, filled with enough semen in their bellies to fill a reservoir. Everyone else running with her either hightailed it or disappeared. And nobody’s seen the Angel herself for months.”

“Well, Well. Good work, girly. That’s an A+ for ya homework.”

“What can I say? I’m studious. I have to when given so little to work with from my ‘partner.’”

“This collision with the False-Face Society made it clear. When you told me that this was urgent, that the law couldn't do anything about it, you sent me to clean up dirty laundry.”

“You’re telling the tale, lass.”

“Am I? It would be awfully inconvenient for the Black Mask to take the smuggling operation right under the nose of whoever is running things. Good thing I showed up to stop them from stealing their packages. It’s too bad you won’t tell me who I did this favor. Or what I protected for them.”

Nightwing was pressing hard while making sure not to let Soames on precisely what she accuses her of not sharing—making sure not to mention the tiny vial of purple she found. With so many officers, they will likely discover more vials that survived the carnage. But Soames didn’t need to know that Nightwing had one for herself. “How can I trust our ‘relationship’ to work out when you won’t help me understand my new home?”

With tensions rising, Soames knew things needed to get soothes over. “Dearie, Sweetie, Ya got me all wrong.” She slowly approached Nightwing, arms up in a sign of friendship. It made the raven-haired heroine...curious enough about the gesture to stay where she was.

And like this morning, she opened herself for a woman to grant themselves generous handfuls of her plump ass.

“AAaaaaah~!” The Inspector took Nightwing’s breath away as she dug her hands in the deep fat of her booty. She was pressing herself on the skin-tight costumed body, her bigger breast dominating. Her nipples got hard enough to slip out from its precarious holdings and duel with Nightwing’s own. Losing against them like she was losing herself to Slut-Brain.

Yet Phyllis continued as if she wasn’t molesting the hapless crime-fighter, “I truly want to maintain our ordered community. An I disagree with Redhorn’s stance on costumes such as you. I know what you can offer us.” Getting two firm grips of what Nightwing could give to the city. “You can help us get rid of this invading surly Maskie.”

“Buuuut,” Nightwing recoiled on each squeeze, “Black Mask is just aaaaah~!” A sharp pinch on the lower end of her ass. “...reaction. She-she’s not the c-cauuuooooh~!” She lifted her cheeks and let them drop and jiggle “...cause. And I know you know this aah. Ah, AAAH!” Then spread them and made them clap.

Phyllis ignored Nighwing’s failing attempts to keep the conversation on track, more focused on playing with the doughy buttcheeks between her fingers. She couldn't stop. It was like having two giant stress balls. Every squeeze was the most relaxing thing she felt.

But the hero managed to find enough willpower to get the sandy-haired molester with a slut model bod gently off her belabored butt. Nightwing turned away from the Inspector. To compose herself and to unconsciously hide how turned on she still was.

“I know you know this, and despite saying you want me, they’re still too much your not telling me.”

Yet, it only put Nightwing in another position for Phyllis to take advantage of.

“Secret’s are my currency lass. An too valuable to spend casually.” While still recoiling from the **** on her booty, Phyllis moved in for a second round. “But, I could be...'' She pressed herself behind Nightwing, resting her chin on her shoulder, wrapping her arms around her waist. And slotting her femme dick between Nightwing’s crack. “...Persuaded.”

“Relationships are about giving an taking. I gave ya a chance going against the Chief's wishes. Rather than put a hole in ya head.” Her hips leisurely pumped at her cheeks, like velvet wrapped around her cock.

Nightwing gasped and put up a pitiful struggle, but there was nothing she could do nor wanted to do as Soames humped and hotdogged her ass. All it did was wiggle her big cheeks side to side, shaking Soame’s cock between them and slotting it further.

“We can bring our relationship to the next level and share some more. I can give you what you want.”

Nightwing moaned when she felt her dick rub on the plump mound of her pussy. That defeated any resistance left in her mind. Instead, her Slut-Brain muddied logic justified this as keeping Phyllis agreeable. And making her consenting to Soames’ slamming cock. “And I…”

"Can.” Hump.

“Offer.” Thump.

“You.” Plap.

“So.” Plap.

“Much” Plap!

“MORE!” PLAP!

Every thrust punctuated each word on Nightwing’s well-rounded rump. On the last one, her cockhead lined up to her asshole. Kissing, ready, and eager. Soames grinned, poised to consummate the next stage of their relationship.

Soames? SOAMES!” where are you? Chiefs on the radio. You know how she feels about waiting!”

And blue-balled by her girls in blue. “Pity, looks like we’re outta time.” She grimaced, separating herself from Nightwing, who couldn’t bring herself to move, still recoiling from the induced sexual mania, still presenting herself for a hotdogging. “Well, we’ll have to make time for each other later.”

“But before I go, I’ll tell you this.” “Blüdhaven’s underworld is going through a sea change, an I only have a notion of who’s making the waves.

“An your right. Black Mask isn’t the cause, but she sure as hell isn’t helping matters.”

Her masked maniacs, no offense, are ruffling the established powers. An they aren't funny about being…”

Soames felt the lack of a presence. Turning around, She got her first of a classic Bat-Family gesture.

Nightwing was long gone.

Clicking her tongue, Soames starts to make her way back to her fellow officers. But then she stops and brings up the bimbofied Nightwing mask. Taking a few seconds looking at it, circling her thumb around the obscenely large dicksuckers on its face.

Then she brought the mask to her face and smashed her lips on the large suckers. She was ravishing the latex and penetrating deep in its artificial mouth with her tongue. She bit the lower lip. Chewing, pulling, and stretching it far with its elasticity before letting it snap back with a slobbery crack. “Ah might not be able to make ya mine, Nightwing.”

She then stuffed the mask in the front of her pants. Its tightness made the latex face wrap around her still hard cock like a sleeve. Lips placed right at her crown.“ But ya gonna be guzzling my jizz soon enough. And learn they call me Fatal Phyllis Soames for more reasons than one.”

After she finally snapped herself out of her Slut-Brain induced state, Nightwing made her leave. But she didn’t move far when she absconded from Soames, turning to the crime scene. The police nearly finished investigating the proverbial train wreck. The False-Facers were loaded up into a van while the remaining cars on the train loaded onto a car carrier. Soames and her women entered their police cars and made their way back to the precinct.

If this were Gotham, she would be riding with the police back to the precinct as Nightwing, listening to the interrogations and assisting with the evidence. Heck, she would have been them sorting through the scene. Rather than watching from afar for risk of them attacking her, not arresting her, on sight. Dependent on a dubious “detective” as her clandestine link to the police and her insight into Blüdhaven’s seedy underbelly, or rather its entire corrupt body.

Nightwing was **** to tolerate this tenuous relationship. In an admittedly **** need of anyone experienced with the criminal landscape, someone who wasn't hostile to a woman in form-flattering tights.

Soames, unfortunately, is the best and only source the heroine has. And she knows how **** Nightwing is—only feeding pieces of information and keeping things close to her chest, drowning the truth deep between her cleavage. She knew Nightwing needed her more than she, and the city itself wanted her.

At the beginning of The Bat’s career, she had to go through the same thing. Back when Gotham was at its worst. When the Mobs smothered everyone in the police under their balls, The Bat saved them from the **** scrotal fellatio. Finding good that was drowning under the cum factories like Gordon. Working with them to redeem the GCPD back into an institution fighting against injustice.

But the Blüdhaven Police Department seems to have no good to redeem. The corruption is so ingrained within them that they fight to protect it from people like her that want to save it. They were its defenders, the lynchpin that helped to maintain how it permeated throughout the city. The last thing they don’t want to work with a heroine that would take it all away.

Yet it gained one in Nightwing, much to its chagrin, and she will not falter under their hostility. She would help them fight against crime, both without and within themselves, whether they like it or not. As her mentor did for Gotham, she would bring them to the light. Even if they kicked and screamed, she would save them from their corruption, along with the rest of the city.

Or if she is not careful, Phyllis Soames and the rest of the BPD will have their way. She is right to believe she’s playing in Soames’ hands, for stopping the False-Facers theft of the mysterious substance was what she, and her masters, wanted. And the bluebird didn’t realize that was only the beginning of how they manipulated her.

If she doesn’t find that out soon, Nightwing will be smothered under the musky, sweaty ballsack of Blüdhaven, swallowed in her nuts and drowning in her cum.