Chapter 5: Ricarda Wonders while Watching the News

Melville enjoys being one of Blüdhaven’s finest neighborhoods, a homely middle-class block where its people could convincingly tell themselves they aren't living in an urban disaster of a city. Even a depraved harlot like Blüdhaven can possess genuinely wholesome features. A prettiness she could achieve without her self-convinced criminal dependency.

The block host fairly pleasant urban accommodations compared to much of the dilapidated city. With streets and sidewalks not neglected and buildings not left for the destitute. The renovation of its park significantly helped make the section feel even better.

What’s more, it is one of the few places in the city not wholly consumed by crime. The BPD places surprising effort in securing the block, helped by a particular raven-haired newbie assigned there for much of her burgeoning career. Burglaries, petty thefts, and occasional lewd altercations are often the worst it ever sees. And to a Havenite, that might as well be utopia.

Yet, on the other hand, Melville also serves Blüdhaven charade. Its friendlier appearance, the somewhat greater police effort, the newly renovated park, just heavily caked makeup. Presenting itself as the respectable woman it definitely is not, obscuring its depravity from ignorant Havenites and the outside world.

Dolling herself up doesn’t change the whore she is at her core.

In any case, the block is near the middle of the city, which was very convenient for the blue-clad bird girl’s extracurricular activity. Nightwing always argued to The Bat for a base right in the heart of the action. Rather than sulking in Gotham’s outskirts inside a cave. It allowed her the quickest foot travel, going wherever she can be a nuisance for the city’s criminals.

From the aftermath of her railway jamboree, she was only a few blocks from her studio apartment. After a long day as Officer Grayson and an even longer night as Nightwing, it was finally time for Ricarda to emerge. At least for a few minutes until crashing into sleep.

As per usual, Nightwing arrived home by rooftop express. Now that she isn’t racing against time to stop the False Face Society, she could enjoy parkouring on top of the garden of low-rise buildings. There weren’t many taller buildings to swing on, unlike the business district’s blood-bricked ivory towers. But she was all right with using her legs to traverse buildings with only single bounds, flourishing her nimbleness over apartments and shopping centers. Until she finally arrived at her building on sixth and ninth.

In one smooth motion, she jumped off the mix-use neighbor and vaulted on her fifth-floor window. It might have been her front door with how often she used it over the actual entrance. She couldn’t **** this convenience all the time. Her secret identity couldn't afford people to ask how Ricarda comes and goes without anyone seeing her enter or leave through the ground floor.

Disengaging the security measures she installed, Ricarda entered into her modest living room. On her right was a nice enough TV on top of a small entertainment cabinet and her computer desk next to it further down. A two-person couch to her left, flush against the countertop of her gallery-style kitchen. And she stood on top of a blue-hued Iranian she found for a steal. On the other side was her bedroom, or rather a queen and a dresser at the corner—no walls separating any rooms. Save for the bathroom next to the front door.

Cramped and sparse, but this was her home sweet home and crime-fighting lair. Looking to the digital clock on top of her dresser, she got back home early enough to catch a good amount of sleep.

But the hero had one more obstacle to overcome, to doff her truly skin-tight costume, freeing herself from its jealous embrace.

Ricarda started by undoing and pulling down the collar, showing the healthy shine of her slender neck and collarbone. Going down further, she fingered the clasp hidden in the blue crest above her bosom. With that undone, she brought her second hand up. Grasping both sides, she spread the upper material to reveal her torso and upper arms.

“MmmmmmAAAAAHHHH~!”

Ricarda arched backward, her tits pointing to the sky and swinging with gusto. When she peeled her uniform off her breast, she couldn’t stop herself from screaming from the sensation. It felt like greedy lips retracting their kisses over every single inch of her upper body. She didn't wear a bra under her uniform. Her suit would not allow it. Besides, the naturally-grown mammaries never needed the support.

Pale, jiggly, and large. Ricarda’s handfuls of opulent fat gratefully tingled in freedom, punctuated by her protruding areola and hard nipples, attached to naked pectorals, neck, and shoulders bulging with feminine strength, in contrast with the raunchy mounds they carried.

At least getting it down her waist was no issue. It only made her coo from the tingling. Going down the smooth protuberance of her solid and sexy abdominals like unwrapping a candy bar for the sinfully sweet white chocolate underneath.

But after that easy trek, Ricarda reached her greatest challenge to overcome. Her hands spread the bunching material wider and wider off her broad, juicy hips and large, delicious butt. It stretched between the range of her hips and clung firmly to her round cheeks, sinking between them, filling out form-fitting slots of abundant flesh.

“Rrrrrff,” Ricarda grunted from the struggle and the pleasant feeling. “Come oooooon!” Why does it always have to be this hard at this point?”

Stiffening her posture, she stuck her back out to give her more leverage. Every shift in her struggle made her great, sensitive booty shake, bending one knee after the other to help shake it off. But it looked like she was presenting herself, making her fatty back mounds see-saw in a mating dance.

“Grrrrfff.” she had to tighten her grip, and the fabric creaked. “Rrrrrrrrr”

POP “AAAAAAAAAAAAH~!!!”

Until finally released with a euphoric cry from passing the threshold. Ricarda’s massive, pale buttocks shined like twin moons comparable with the one out her window, bouncing and wobbling in its freedom, quaking out of control. Her bosom joined the bouncing in wide heaving arcs, slamming upon her abdomen repeatedly. Her revealed fat pussy happily spasmed and squirted her juices inside her suit. Her knees buckled, and her thighs squeezed against each other.

She gave herself a second to pant and recover before getting it past her thighs. It was easier than the great hills she just overcame, yet it still felt like unwrapping holiday hams—nothing less to carry the full course meal of haunches above them. From there, the costume finally lost the clinging grip. Gravity could finally take hold, and it fell off her calves.

“Ohhhhhh,” Ricarda cooed, spasming from one last orgasm. “Ahhhhhhhh. Every time.”

Ricarda’s heavenly body was finally bare. Anyone who looked upon the black-haired beauty would think her to be a gift sculpted by a gracious goddess—a tremendously fucktastic woman who couldn’t be believed unless seen.

Such a shame there was no one else who could enjoy the fantastic sight. To get any chance to feel, touch, or taste her brimming, pleasant plushness. A nice filling palm-full of her ass. A squeeze of her breast. Carreasing her silky skin to feel the taught spry muscles underneath. Getting those thick lips to wrap them around a long cock.

What’s more tragic was the briefness of her nudity. It ended when she reached for some nightwear from her hamper of fresh laundry—but seeing her in a strained crop top and a high-angled thong was a nice consolidation.

She picked at the thin strip going around her hips in irritation. Ricarda begrudgingly wears such a thin undergarment because every other kind of underwear bunches up and sinks between her ample cheeks, becoming a thong regardless. The slim lingerie was comfortable, at least, if not for the maximum exposure.

Now Ricarda was ready to end her night and get ready for work tomorrow morning. She was assigned an early beat in Carnarvon, and would actually get plenty of sleep for her other job. A nice reward for taking down Black Mask’s goons. She just had to walk and fall onto her bed.

And yet, she instead looked down to her costume, not at the stain of her feminine ejaculation, but the gauntlet pouch. Reaching down, she fished inside the slot, raising the little purple vial she won through the frenzied locomotive romp.

This teeny thing and everything surrounding it was keeping her wide awake. She fiddled with the capsule between her fingers, twirling it around in frustration. Today’s events swirl in her head, keeping her brain wide awake with curiosity and attempted deduction.

She sighed. It could wait for the morning. Her bed was right there on her peripheral. She seriously needed to get herself some sleep, get ready for tomorrow.

Instead, she sat on her couch with that vial.

Resting in her palm, she bored a hole into the glass casing with her intense staring. Black Mask sent her enforcers to hijack a trainload of these hidden vials, whether or not Roma even knew that's what she was pilfering. But someone in Bludhaven’s underworld felt these were necessary to smuggle. Something she was sure Soames knew about and would refuse to tell.

“UGH!” she muttered in frustration. “Like staring at this little thing will do anything! Not like I have Superwoman’s Super Vision to look at its molecules. And Atomica’s know-how to understand what they could mean!”

And this was a waste of precious snooze hours. She really, really needed to get herself to sleep. It felt like she stared at this thing for an hour. Fussing over questions she was in no position to answer right now. Her perturbed mind is gonna keep her up all night!

She grabbed her TV remote on the armrest.

“Maybe some good old mindless television could entrance me to sleep. Sleeping on the couch is better than nothing. ”

*CLICK*

“...is Vicky Vale reporting live from the Wayne Biomedical building. Details are still coming in. But it looks like Supergirl is flying...."

The Gotham News broadcast came to light, showcasing their star journalist and number one piece of ass, Vicky Vale.

Vale’s four-foot ten-short and stacked profiled against the news van. Her Canadian heritage’s thick, delicious curves in a sleeveless, backless, bright red and white dress. The rear hem pulled up to display the bottom curves of her double stuffed bubble butt. If only Robin had the chance to have had a one-on-one interview back in the day. Yet the feisty reporter’s sole attention was for The Bat.

Supergirl descended from the air, floating next to Vicky, a head and shoulders above the reporter with five feet and ten inches, plus the extra 6 inches ballet heels. The beautiful Kryptonian blonde was always a welcomed sight. Always fun to hang out with her and Barbara, going out or taking down bad girls.

Ricarda rolled the vial between her knuckles as she absently watched Vale interview Kara. Unfortunately, her thoughts were too obsessed over her case, rather than enjoying the two beautiful and stacked women on TV. Something undoubtedly inherited from her nocturnal mentor and something she would resent if told as such.

If Ricarda was not so lost in thought, she would ask herself why Kara’s costume was in tatters, covered in an oily purple and metallic gold sheen. Or why it looked like she was masturbating on live TV without actually touching herself. Thrusting her erect and powerful femme cock into nothing, as if she was buttfucking a tight piece of ass.

“This could be my ticket to stop feeding on the breadcrumbs Soames is giving me. And stop wasting time on small players who don’t know anything.”

She missed the Kryptonian femme finally cum. Ejaculating a deep purple with specks of gold out of her tip. That seemed to bounce off some invisible wall, swirling and fountaining around her super schlong.

"Supergirl- you look hot tonight..." a flustered Vicky blurted out. Yet Ricarda only half heard the utterance and Kara’s ejaculation. Despite the inattentiveness, she felt a strange spike of heat tingling in her body and unknowingly licked her lips.

“How can I use you little purple thing? I’ll need a lab to solve your mystery.” She flicked the vial in the air, changing her position to lean on the armrest, right in time to catch it in her left. “Too bad this place didn’t come with a lab to analyze your chemical composition. Even if it did, I’m not a forensic scientist.”

“Not everyone can be a savant with unlimited resources. Bet you would have already had this scanned down to the quark, figured everything out, and demand why it’s taking me so long to do the same.”

"...nnnnnnn..... Huhhh-ughh?" Supergirl moaned on TV after an even larger ejaculation. After jerking backward into the van, as if a powerful, invisible ass checked her hips. "What are you talking about, Vicky?"

“Piggybacking off the BPD’s investigation could be the best, immediate, solution. If they’re even investigating it.” Ricarda sent the vial spinning on her pinkie. “If not, I could use their resources. No way Nightwing can show up and ask to borrow their spectrometers with Redhorn putting on a mark on me.”

“Meaning this could be a job for Officer Grayson. She can get in, maybe even get a technician to analyze it for me.”

"...very evening Gotham News received a video recorded message. We'll broadcast it now unedited as a Gotham News exclusive!"

“But I’m still a newbie. I have no pull to insert myself in an investigation or convince a lab techie to help me with this concoction,” at least none that she realizes. “At worst, I could compromise myself.”

“Though,” She hesitated, “A quick stop to Gotham for the Cave’s forensic equipment and would be the easier option...and asking The Bat for her expertise.”

"Let's watch it now, and then Supergirl can give us her thoughts-"

“I’m definitely not asking Bats directly. Maybe Barb is still up, I can call…”

"Hello, Gotham City..."

Ricarda's thoughts are silenced by a deep, sexually charged feminine voice. Any attention on that little vial was gone, dropped on the floor. Ricarda’s eyes immediately went to the screen.

Her TV was taken up by the thiccest, most bodacious, most powerful ASS Ricarda has ever seen. Under strobes of purple and gold lights, The consuming sight rhythmically twerked, bouncing to a heart-pounding beat. Bright purple leathers encased powerful thighs, started from the middle down to her sculpted calves, changing to a bright cherry red around her ankles, accented by chrome buckles and eight-inch stiletto platform heels.

Without any conscious control, Ricarda was thrown off her couch onto the carpet by an unseen ****. She was squatting straight in front of her TV. Her wrist shot up in the air, above her head, and locked together. Her ankles locked to each other as well, and her legs spread wide to a full, knee-bent split.

Ricarda’s body was fully bound. Only able to squirm. Her lifetime of acrobatics allowed her to keep her balance even in this compelling and precarious position. She couldn’t move a centimeter except to writhe under the sexual power exerted onto her.

While immobilized, A phantom cock head was tapping directly on her anus. Pulsing with desire, undoubtedly still slick from its prior fucking. Likely some tight, sweet red-headed PAWG.

The bumping and thumping of that sensational donk commanded her full attention. The TV’s heavy beat sent vibrations across her **** body, the all-powerful cheeks invading her psyche. Watching them made her pussy leak through her thong and her asshole pucker. Tiny needles pricked her hard nipples, passing deep in her tender titty flesh.

The camera panned out enough to reveal a dark office overlooking some kind of dance floor. The rocking rumpadump bent over an ebony desk, blanketing its viewers with the erotic dance of a lifetime, the face of the mysterious dancer came into view.

Ricarda gasped at the beautiful face looking over her juicy, still twerking bubble butt. Her raven dark hair framed her symmetrical face. Her plump lips naturally formed a curved up bee-stung O-shape. The wet reflective sheen of her lips sparkled with a deep neon purple gloss with metallic specks of gold catching the strobing light.

The bootylicious mistress sucked on a slutty purple buttplug like a lollipop before taking it out of her mouth and placed the glistening silicone to her naked asshole. Still popping and locking, she firmly rolled the slick buttplug around the rim of her asshole, teasing her anus, teasing Ricarda’s anus. She felt the buttplug's tip probing them as if it was in the room with them.

"I'm your new goddess, Power Bottom."

The forceful declaration unleashed a wave of sensations that seized Ricarda beyond the edge, almost painfully uncomfortable. Any prior desires she felt paled to the need to cum to the true focus of her life. But her new mistress wouldn’t allow her. Her body remained frozen by **** restraints while her arousal burned within her with no way out. Helplessly watching Power Bottom's consuming gyration exude its sensual mindfucking energy. Entirely giving herself as a willing slut to the erotic domination.

"Come worship your goddess at my exclusive fitness center and dance club, The Squat Rack." Power Bottom commanded, winking at the camera. She thrust the mysterious purple buttplug deep into her ample asshole. And deep in Ricarda’s mind.

The pace of Power Bottom's booty was increasing as she rapidly tapped her asshole with the buttplug, but not entirely pushing in all the way. Power Bottom's silky hot, jelly-like globes spiritually clenched around Ricarda’s head. Deep in the grip of the thicc, thicc, THICC supervillainess ASS, its dominant power holding her consciousness prisoner within its cheeks, total control of her body and mind.

"And now I'm speaking to Batgirl pers...”

ZZZZZZZZ

ZZZZZZZZ

ZZZZZZZZ

The scene suddenly changed as Power Bottom’s image shuddered in static, warping for a second until settling back to her gorgeous face and beautiful ass. In the same, but slightly different, position.

“And now speaking to you, my dearest Ricarda.” Power Bottom looked right into Ricarda's eyes, grinning fiercely.

On those words, erotic **** exploded through the little box. Her senses were overwhelmed until she felt a terrifyingly and thicc presence in front of her. Power Bottom was in her apartment, Squatting in front of her. Her back is facing her. Her ASS is facing her.

Ricarda only had a second to look up into Powe Bottom’s gleaming eyes before the hot dancer's badonk rammed right into her crotch. Pounding her nethers with a massaging buttjob. Every collision beat away the little conscious thought she had, replaced with naughty, excited arousal.

Her back thrust compelled Ricarda to follow her pace, trapped in the storm of manic shaking. It was like Ricarda was riding a bronco. The irresistible **** of Bottom **** her hips up. Her own butt rose into the air before being thrown back down by gravity, her crotch landing hard on the extra padded cushions that launched her in the first place. Then sent her up again, and again and again.

Despite what everyone would think by just looking at her, Ricarda never learned how to twerk. Only in the occasional drunken college party had she given in to the peer pressure and uttered an amateur attempt. Her natural size made it still tantalizing, but she never put any serious effort into butt shaking.

Yet, in only moments of being **** to follow Power Bottom’s pace, Ricarda quickly adapting her lower movements. Power Bottom was directing her less and less until she backed herself away from the circus girl’s to give her room to move independently.

Given space, Ricarda went wild on her own. She arched her back further, throwing her plump cheeks up and down like some mad elevator, then swinging them in figure eights. Showing instinctual skill for the art of poppin’ booty, manipulating her bountiful buttcheeks with expert control, grace, and wild passion.

“You're a natural girl; I always knew it” Power Bottom rolling to a dance beat in her head, reaching her arms behind herself and Ricarda to slap the girl’s cheeks to the rhythm. Ricarda followed by popping her hips to meet those booty-bitch-slaying hands. Swinging side to side as Power Bottom played her like the drums.

“Your perfect, Ri Ri.” Power Bottom laughed as she slapped both of her lust-crazed catch’s cheeks at the same time, who sent them upwards to meet Power Bottom’s palms. “You were born for this. That bodacious, bottom-heavy bod of yours is built for booty bumping.”

“It's too bad I can't make you into my rave ****. Just like Barbie.”

Ricarda felt her wrist freed from the mental bindings, granted permission to move her arms. To drive her arms around Power Bottom’s robust waist, her hands straight to her huge femme cock. She grabbed the length in one hand and her balls in the other, jerking her off and fondling her at the same time while the two twerk.

“As much I want to seize that ass for myself, a dear friend of mine has already called dibs. I’m just doing my part to help her out. Get you primed for her plans. And to make sure you don't get any silly ideas.”

“Like getting in the way while I play with Batgirl.”

As Ricarda pleasured her cock, Power Bottom upped her pace until her massive cheeks were slapping thunderously. Ricarda copied, making her own rump slam against itself. Each fleshy impact sent perverse and subversive jolts into her brain. They were ingraining messages of command deep into her subconsciousness as if they were her thoughts.

Profoundly embedding the absoluteness of ASS.

The ASS commanded Ricarda to STAY in Blüdhaven.

CLAP!

The ASS commanded her NOT to contact Barbie.

CLAP!

The ASS commanded her NOT to contact The BAT.

CLAP!

The ASS told her that her name is Ri Ri.

CLAP!

That she is a fuckdoll.

CLAP!

That she is a Big Booty Twerk Slut.

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

The rhythmic sound of fat flesh against flesh enveloped her mind. Her own brain was sunk deep into ASS, as huge cheeks continuously smashed her head between them.

The only thing on her mind was ASS.

CLAP!

The only thing she was, is ASS.

CLAP!

Barbie will be okay. Power Bottom was taking good care of her, Barbie’s right where she belongs, smothered between Power Bottom’s ASSCHEEKS.

CLAP!

She’s too busy to bother her. Just like Ri Ri’s too busy herself.

CLAP!

Blüdhaven needs her. She needs to become this city’s superhero.

CLAP!

She needs to become this city’s super slut

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!CLAP!CLAP!CLAP!CLAP!CLAP!

Ri Ri and Power Bottom kept their clappers going as the combined ASSES solidified the subliminal mandates.

“Don’t you love It Ri Ri? Don’t you want to give yourself to me and my establishment?”

“Mmmmmmmmaa...hhhggggkk” Was all Ri Ri could vocalize. Totally overwhelmed by the swirling ASS energy around her.

“Work it in the gym all day. Shake it in my raves all night. Make that ASS shake endlessly. See it dance and dance for every cock in the world.”

“Aaahhh! Aaaaahhhghghhh!”

“OOOOHHHH, I need to stop myself. I Gotta keep my promise.”

“MMMMmmm!” “Guhhhh...aaaAAAAAAAHHHH~!”

“BUT I CAN’T HELP IT! You’re too sexy, Ri Ri!

“She won't mind one little blowjob.”

Power Bottom compelled Ricarda to lean her torso around her own and take her cock in her mouth. Blowing her, jerking her off, and caressing her balls all at the same time, still popping her butt.

She grabbed Ricardas short black hair, using her head like an onahole. Being so roughly face fucked made Ricarda shake her ass even harder as she choked on the dancer’s huge invader of her esophagus, while she swung her derriere like no other. As her body contorted around Power Bottoms larger and more bodacious body. Wrapping around her and putting her entire form in pleasuring her. Her hands going on a frenzy on the cock and balls they could barely fit in their grasp. Smacking her crotch into the perfect booty she was emulating. Sending the reverberations to tantalize both their eager assholes, while the clapping rang in her ears like a harp. Ricarda proved herself to be a superb pleasuring tool.

“Ohhh~OOOHHHHH~ RI RIIIIIII~!!!” Power Bottom’s cock erupted with purple and gold flooding her mouth and torrenting down her throat.

The load blown in Ricarda’s mouth caused her final orgasm. She seized as she ejaculated her lady cum on her carpet, mixing with the purple-gold that spewed out of her mouth.

“Good girl, a very good girl, taking all of my desserts for you.” The heroine didn’t even have the energy to take herself off of Power Bottom’s dick. While the raving businesswoman wouldn’t mind having her lips as her new cock ring, she pulled her off by the hair. The stretched-out dick-suckers traveled off her long length. Ending with a satisfying POP!

Resting her temporary toy on her huge powerful thighs.“ A little too much for you, I see. Don’t worry, you’ll build up your stamina.”

Power Bottom patted the girl on the back, proud of the first step she made, looking forward to what she would become. But right now she knew the girl needed her sleep.“Sweet dreams, sweet cheeks. And always remember...”

“Obey The ASS,” Ricarda moaned as cum bubbled out of her throat.

Ricarda fell into unconsciousness on her carpet. Splayed out, her legs spread in a split, unconsciously thrusting her body. On a pool of her pussy juice mixed with the thick fluorescent jizz. The purple vial was lying unharmed, now glowing with a neon shine. Freed by her release, of the vice binding her, of a woman who wasn’t there.

Ricarda was right. Watching TV did help her go to sleep. Tonight her mind would not be troubled over the criminal conspiracy of Bludhaven. Instead of brought to a night of blissful sleep.

She would miss Superirl’s announcement to run for Justice League president. Punctuated by her by seizing Vicky Vale and plowing her face with her Kryptonian cock.

Hers, definitely not the cock of Power Bottom. Latched on the femme dick of the hapless Batgirl.

Power Bottom wasn't there, just as she wasn’t here with Ricarda doing a booty bouncing duet.

She did not see Vicky Vale’s dress blowing out as her buttcheeks swelled up to the size of basketballs.

Nor did she feel her own bubble but become bigger and bubblier to match.

She’ll never think to call her friend for help. Barbie was too busy after all. And don’t even mention The Bat.

She a hero all her own, she didn’t need the help. Ricarda would solve this mystery herself. Find out who sent those twenty-one cum balloons that used to be women down Gotham’s way. Figure out the secret of this vial of purple, the same purple that filled her stomach. Figure out how to get around Soames.

Figure out how to navigate this perilous city. How to make Blüdhaven hers. To become the hero it needs and wants.

And most importantly, discover how she was going to become Goddess Catwoman’s most fabulous ASS SLUT.