slut batwoman

Rain lashes down in sheets, mixing with the toxic grime of the city's perpetual smog. Kate Kane Batwoman is breathing hard, her cape torn, her cowl cracked. She has been hunting a strange disturbance in the harbor, a mass of writhing, colorful flesh that appeared overnight.

She didn't see the first one coming.

It moved with impossible speed a wet, starfish shaped organism that launched itself from the shadows. Before she could reach for a batarang, the creature slammed into her face. Kate's scream is muffled as the parasite's underside grips her skin with microscopic suckers, its central eye pressing against her own.

Then comes the violation of the mind.

The Starro parasite doesn't just sit on her face; it penetrates. Kate's eyes bulge as she feels something cold and gelatinous slide upward through her nasal cavity and eye sockets. It burrows past the skull, threading its alien tendrils directly into her cerebral cortex.

Instantly, her world fractures. The tactical awareness, the training, the iron will that makes her Batwoman all of it is flooded with a psychic static. The parasite begins to broadcast. It rewrites her neural pathways, replacing her mission with a single, overwhelming telepathic command: Surrender. Serve. FUCK.

"Nnnngh ahhh no " Kate's protest dies in her throat as the alien consciousness merges with hers. Her heroic resolve dissolves like sugar in acid.

But the infection is not complete. Two more Starro spores, smaller and more agile, slither across her exposed collarbone. They move with purpose toward her breasts.

Kate's hands fly up to tear them off, but her limbs feel heavy, uncoordinated, her brain already half melted by the primary parasite. The spores reach their targets. With wet, tearing sounds, they burrow through her tactical suit and into the sensitive tissue of her nipples.

The sensation is unlike anything she has ever experienced. It isn't just pain; it's an invasive, internal violation. The parasites slide deep into her breast tissue, coiling around her milk ducts and nerve clusters, turning her tits into living extensions of the Starro hive mind. They begin to pulse, pumping alien hormones directly into her bloodstream hormones that trigger hyper arousal and an insatiable, ravenous need for penetration.

Her breasts swell unnaturally, the skin stretching taut and glowing with a faint, sickly purple light. They throb in time with the alien heartbeat inside her skull. Every breath she takes sends waves of artificial, desperate lust through her body.

"I... need..." Kate gasps, her voice cracking. Her pupils have dilated until the blue of her irises is gone, leaving only black voids. Her cape falls to the rooftop as she drops to her knees in the rain. "I need... it... please..."

She isn't thinking about Batman. She isn't thinking about Gotham's safety. Her mind is a swamp of alien commands and overwhelming physical need. The Starro on her face pulses, sending a fresh wave of psychic pleasure through her brain as she imagines the feel of something large and crude filling her.

A group of Gotham thugs, drawn to the disturbance on the rooftop, round the corner. They see a fallen hero, her face covered in a writhing alien thing, her chest heaving and swollen.

"What the hell is that?" one of them asks, raising a crowbar.

But Kate doesn't see threats anymore. The Starro parasite reads the thugs' primitive desires and translates them for her. Her body arches involuntarily, her ass grinding against the wet concrete.

"Come here," she gurgles through the alien mask, her voice a distorted, needy moan. "Please... fuck me... fuck me hard..."