Nightwing Bonus Issue #1: Ambush! (Part 3)

Ricarda sucked in a deep, calming breath, her nipples somehow growing even harder as she inhaled the combined scent of two hot and bothered femmes. Goddess, she groaned internally, cupping a massive tit in each hand and jiggling them enticingly in an attempt to calm the tingling that ran up and down her spine, this is, like, so unfair! She could practically feel their bulges throbbing from all the way across the room, forcing her hips to twitch in time with the heavy thump-thump-thump of blood pumping into their cocks like it was an infectious club beat. This kind of thing was supposed to happen to bratty, naughty rave slaves like Barbie, not me! Giving her bust one last grope, she shifted her stance as Stranglehold lunged towards Tarantula, a vicious right hook already on the way. The black- and orange-clad vigilante ducked under the blow and sprung to the side in time to avoid an upward kick, but not in time to avoid getting a faceful of Stranglehold's bulge.

Fortunately, before the metahuman could wrap her upraised leg around Tarantula's head and take advantage of her superior strength to hold the femme there until she was deep in the throes of slut-brain, Nightwing's fist sailed towards the back of her head- wobble -and missed entirely, sailing over her shoulder as the blow abruptly became an ass-on-ass hip check under the influence of the shifting mass of the PAWG's booty. The shockwave rippled through Stranglehold's muscular ass, around her hips and into her cock, pressing it against the overstretched material of her booty shorts with a sensation uncannily similar to a stroke from a slender, purple-gloved hand. It also provided enough momentum to knock Tarantula away from the villainess's crotch, though the dazed expression she wore for a couple of seconds afterwards was hardly reassuring. Damn it, Ricarda, she privately cussed herself out, get your head in the game, you ditzy, slutty bimbo!

Ignoring the second, oddly familiar voice that seemed to overlap with her own for those last for words, Nightwing shook her head and ducked a roundhouse kick from Stranglehold. Tarantula went in for another attack from behind, only for the villainess's momentum to coincidentally leave the vigilante's face buried in her crotch again. This time the orange- and black-clad femme got herself free, but the look of nervousness on her features said it all - slowly but surely, the pair were losing. An acrobatic leap that barely evaded a straight jab, a kick to Stranglehold's knee that barely flinched her, a glance down at a fat, throbbing bulge that nearly sank the observer into a slut-brain episode; it was all building up to a defeat by a thousand cuts. Ricarda ground her teeth in frustration as yet another blow from her escrima sticks glanced off of her hulking opponent's rippling, intimidating muscles; she frantically crossed them over her head to try and block a downward blow that'd probably put her halfway through the floor and- wobble -stopped it dead as the floor beath her feet creaked and her double-wide dumptruck rippled.

Ricarda let out a small whimper as Stranglehold licked her lips and swung in from the left with her free hand, twisting on the spot to- wobble -plant her ASS firmly against the femme's crotch, the taller babe's pulse throbbing through her body before her compacted ass abruptly regained its former dimensions. Instead of Nightwing being launched away from Stranglehold, though, it was the brutish femme who staggered back a couple of steps, reeling from the realisation that the heroine's whooty was a match for her. Tarantula took advantage of the distraction, looping a web-line around their opponent's ankle and tugging hard. Stranglehold's eyes widened as her stance was pulled even further out of whack, flashes of flesh visible through the gaps in the overstrained seams of her booty shorts, but held her ground well enough to knock Nightwing's next blow aside with ease. The sequence ended with Tarantula's back to the wall, pinned there by Ricarda's bubble butt as it swallowed up her bulge, as Stranglehold readied herself for another exchange of blows.

"Hola, chica," Tarantula drawled, the sound crawling up and down Ricarda's spine like the vigilante's namesake, "you've got some prima moves there; wanna show me some more?" The Gothamite rolled her hips as she felt the slender, insistent fingertips of slut-brain begin to prod and poke at her asshole, uncertainty roiling inside her. She shouldn't be acting like this, eschewing the Bat's painstaking training for some... some... some raunchy, instinctual ASS-crobatic fighting style! Just like she shouldn't be grinding on a powerfully-built femme mid-fight like she was nothing but the lady's side bitch; she was gonna be a heroine, not another suave, dominant babe's sidekick! But it was like the world delighted in knocking her down a peg at every turn, pressing its taut, strong body down on her as it prone-boned her aspirations straight through the mattress. All of this flashed by in an instant, just long enough that she didn't notice the slut drop she performed to pull both her head and Tarantula's down below the path of Stranglehold's fist, now buried in the drywall above them.

Splitting up as the villainess wrenched her arm free, Nightwing helped Tarantula thread a web-line in a figure-eight pattern around both of their opponent's ankles, just loose enough for the moment that she wouldn't notice. A well-timed duck- wobble -turned into a better-timed slutsquat, letting Ricarda add the finishing touches to the improvised ankle cuffs as she passed below a high kick. She sprang up into a handstand and- wobble -struck Stranglehold full-**** in her chest with her ASS, knocking the femme back with a moan from each of them as the impact sent shockwaves through their curves. wobble A hip-check into Tarantula helped her evade a grab. wobble A seemingly-unnecessary standing split became an axe kick that drove one of Stranglehold's feet through a weakened floorboard. wobble Another rolling grind of her rump against her foe's bulge weakened her resolve - and knees - enough to delay her escape. wobble Tarantula's distraction as Nightwing shimmied her hips for a moment unexpectedly paid off as she accidentally landed her latest web-line lasso in a better position than she'd aimed it.

"No class," a sultry, slutty voice purred in Ricarda's ear, "just ASS."

"No class," Ricarda whispered unknowingly to herself, "just ASS."

It was surprisingly easy for it all to click into place. Blüdhaven wasn't the faux-classy dame that Gotham was, she was a sleazy, trashy whore, shameless in her nature and insatiable in her appetites. She'd resisted the new wave of gimmick villainesses and themed heroines not through any sense of pride or standards, but by dragging them down to her level and beating them with experience. No class, just ASS. Well, unfortunately for them, Ricarda Grayson could match experience with raw, unrefined talent - a veritable titan of titillation, even among the Titans she'd once led. Swinging hips and clapping cheeks slowly brought Stranglehold low, every booty-rippling WHAP and window-rattling CLAP giving Tarantula the time she needed to tie her target tighter and tighter, until the brute's leverage was no more and she could only writhe helplessly in her bonds as Ricarda, lost in her own momentum, delivered the sort of twerkjob that would normally leave one entirely out of pocket at the Iceberg Lounge.

Hot, sticky lines painting her spine, felt even through her kevlar-polymer bodysuit, brought Nightwing crashing back to reality. "Oh, Gawdess," she groaned, feeling Tarantula's bitchsplitter throb and lurch helplessly between her Brobdingnagian buns, spewing its owner's defeat all over her chiselled back muscles, "how the hell did it happen again?!"

"Whatever it is," Tarantula mused, ASS planted firmly on Stranglehold's face and thighs slowly scissor-**** the metahuman into unconsciousness, "it could have done with happening a little sooner. My legs are already aching." She gave one last flex of her rock-hard thighs, felt her opponent slowly go limp, and untangled herself to strut over to Ricarda's side. "You're not so bad, chica," she mused, her tone surprisingly airy for a woman with such a deep contralto, "that culo gordo jugoso really put in the work! Makes me wanna get to know you better - find out what else it can do..." Ricarda's jaw clenched as she called upon all her years of training with the Bat to avoid plunging straight into slut-brain. "F-Funny you should say that," she replied, breath catching in her throat as she heard sirens approaching, "I've got some questions for you too."

All of her sternness and bravado vanished in an instant as Tarantula's hand sank into the meat of one cheek and a nonexistent, purple leopard print-clad femme's sank into the other. "Let's get going, then," the pair purred in stereo, "we can crash back at your place..."

Nightwing Bonus Issue #1: Ambush! - END

Authors Note: Whew, bit of a struggle to wrap this one up and something's still annoying me about it; hope it satisfies you all regardless. So yeah, Tarantula! Buff, ruthless latina vigilante with a... let's say questionable romantic history with Nightwing in canon, she was basically a shoo-in for the first Blüdhaven Booty Call. Ricarda want's to get out from the Bat's shadow so badly, I couldn't resist the urge to pile on the humiliation by giving her such a domineering teammate - and she's even named after the family containing the bird-eating spider to boot! Fortunately for Ricarda, she's only hungry for that ASS.