Chapter 3: Chapter 3
The reinforced door hissed shut behind Dick and Jason, sealing Selina inside the sterile quiet. The abrupt silence felt heavier than the bindings had been. She lay sprawled on the medical cot, the thin blanket tangled around her legs, her body still humming with the aftershocks of exposure, Jason’s cruel touch, and the relentless playback of her own desperate confessions. Sweat cooled on her skin. The deep ache in her freed breasts was a constant, throbbing reminder. Below, her clit pulsed, a tiny, insistent drumbeat against the emptiness between her thighs. Training. The word echoed, terrifying and thrilling. She curled onto her side, pulling the blanket over her nakedness, seeking a futile shield. Outside, muffled voices filtered through the thick door – Dick’s measured tone, Jason’s lower, rougher rumble. Driven by a desperate, masochistic curiosity, she slid silently off the cot, pressing her ear against the cold metal.
The strategy room was utilitarian: a large metal table scattered with holographic displays flickering schematics of Gotham, blinking comms equipment, and Dick’s tablet, still glowing with the damning interview files. The air smelled of ozone and stale coffee. Jason paced like a caged panther, his boots heavy on the concrete floor. Dick leaned against the table, arms crossed, staring at the frozen image on the tablet screen – Selina’s tear-streaked face mid-sob.
“Fucking hell, Dick,” Jason growled, running a hand through his dark hair. “Did you hear that? ‘Virgin back there’. And the clit shit? ‘Treat it like a tiny cock’? Bound? Teased? Abused?” He slammed a fist lightly on the table, making the equipment rattle. “She’s a goddamn walking kink dispenser begging to be plugged in.”
Dick’s expression remained analytical, but his blue eyes held a dark intensity. “It’s not just kink, Jason. Listen to the subtext. The medical fetishism woven through it. The dilation schedules, the sounding, the inflators… the obsession with transformation.” He tapped the tablet, scrolling through text logs accompanying the audio. “See here? Explicit request for ‘significant mammary hypertrophy’. Not just bigger. Significant. And the clitoral enlargement protocols… she didn’t just want it abused, she wanted it changed. Made prominent. Like… well…”
“Like a little dicklet,” Jason finished, a predatory grin spreading. “Just like she said. Fuck, she wants to be rebuilt. Turned into some kind of fuckdoll fantasy.” He stopped pacing, leaning on the table opposite Dick. “So? We giving the kitty what she wants?”
Dick met his gaze. “She surrendered. Explicitly. Begged for it. We have the means. Wayne Enterprises R&D has… prototypes. Bio-enhancement gels derived from Ivy’s accelerated growth formulas. Non-permanent, controllable, but potent. Designed for tissue regeneration… adaptable.” He pulled up a holographic display showing molecular structures and fluid dynamics. “Subdermal injectors for targeted application. We can start with localized hypertrophy in the mammary tissue. Gradual, controlled inflation.”
Jason whistled low. “Make those perfect tits even bigger? Fuck yeah. Swollen, heavy, hanging… just like she fantasized.” His eyes gleamed. “And the clit?”
“More delicate,” Dick said, his voice clinical. “Topical application combined with micro-stimulation. Low-level electro-pulses keyed to arousal states to encourage vascular engorgement and tissue expansion. Combined with… targeted torment, as per her request. Pain-pleasure feedback loop to accelerate the conditioning.” He pulled up another schematic – a sleek, sinister-looking device like a hybrid clamp and electrode. “We can monitor sensitivity, growth metrics in real-time.”
Jason chuckled darkly. “Torment. Yeah. I can handle that part. Bind it. Tease it. Make that little pearl swell and throb until she screams.” He leaned forward. “What about the rest? The holes? The training?”
“Methodical,” Dick stated. “Anal dilation regimen – inflatable plugs, progressive sizing. Vaginal… similar, but incorporating texture variations for sensation mapping. Urethral sounding… requires sterile protocol. Twice daily, as requested.” He scrolled further. “And the futa fixation… the fantasy of being stretched, bulged, impaled…”
“We ain’t got any actual futas lying around, Dickie-bird,” Jason snorted.
“No,” Dick conceded, a faint, dangerous smile touching his lips. “But we have ingenuity. Dual-density strap-ons. Internal inflation mechanisms to simulate… girth. Depth. The sensation of being filled. Programmable thrust patterns. We can replicate the fantasy. Make her stomach bulge. Make her watch.” He tapped the tablet again, pulling up images of sleek, terrifyingly realistic prosthetic devices. “Oracle can sync the programming to biometric feedback. Increase intensity as her tolerance… or desperation… grows.”
Jason stared at the images, then at Dick. A slow, understanding grin spread across his face. “You’re a fucking deviant genius, Grayson. Under all that Boy Scout charm.” He pushed off the table. “So, we do it. We build her fantasy. Turn Selina Kyle into the aching, swollen, gaping fuckhole she confessed to wanting to be. With care…” He smirked. “…and attention.”
Dick nodded, his gaze hardening. “Precisely. We fulfill the contract she begged for. Every depraved, detailed inch of it. But on our terms. Controlled. Observed.” He powered down the holograms. “Starting now. The breast enhancement gel is in Cryo-Storage Bay 3. The clitoral stimulator prototype is in my workshop locker. Prep them. I’ll retrieve Selina.”
Jason’s grin turned feral. “With pleasure.” He turned towards a bank of refrigerated units humming against the far wall.
Dick moved silently towards the door connecting to Selina’s room. He paused, his hand hovering over the keypad. A faint, almost imperceptible shift in the light under the door – a shadow where there shouldn’t be. His lips thinned. Listening. He entered the code swiftly.
The door slid open silently. Selina was halfway back to the cot, frozen in the act of scrambling away from the door, the blanket clutched around her. Her eyes were wide, exvited, her face flushed with a mixture of shame and something else – a raw, undeniable hunger. She’d heard everything.
Dick didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room in two swift strides. “Eavesdropping, Selina?” His voice was dangerously calm. He grabbed her wrist, the one not clutching the blanket, his grip like steel. “Bad kitty.”
“N-no! I wasn’t—” she stammered, trying to pull away.
Jason appeared in the doorway, holding two small, pressurized hyposprays filled with a viscous, pearlescent blue gel, and a sleek black device that looked like a cross between a clamp and a miniature TENS unit. His eyes locked onto Selina’s panicked face. “Heard the plan, did you?” he rumbled, stepping inside. The door hissed shut behind him. “Saves time explaining.”
Dick yanked Selina towards the metal table in her room, shoving her against its cold surface. The blanket fell away, leaving her utterly exposed again. “Hold her,” Dick commanded Jason.
Jason moved instantly, pinning Selina’s shoulders back against the table, his bulk immovable. She gasped, struggling futilely. “Ooh! Wait! Make me... Don’t—!”
Dick picked up one of the hyposprays. The blue gel shimmered ominously. “Breast enhancement. Phase one. As requested.” He didn’t ask. He didn’t warn. He simply pressed the nozzle firmly against the swollen, tender flesh just below her left nipple, avoiding the pierced peak itself. There was a sharp hiss-click.
Selina screamed.
It wasn’t pain, not exactly. It was an intense, deep pressure, instantly followed by a searing heat that radiated outwards from the injection site, flooding the fatty tissue of her breast. It felt like molten lead was being poured inside her, spreading, expanding. Her breast visibly swelled, tightening the skin, the existing red pressure marks from the bindings stretching taut. The nipple seemed to pull upwards, the barbell glinting fiercely.
“FUCK!” Selina groaned, arching her back, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation. Jason held her down effortlessly.
Dick moved to the right breast. Hiss-click. Another cry tore from Selina’s throat as the same intense pressure-heat bloomed in her other breast. They felt heavier already, fuller, the skin stretched shiny and tight. A deep, aching throb began to pulse within them, synchronizing with her frantic heartbeat.
Dick discarded the empty hyposprays. He picked up the black device. It had two articulated arms tipped with soft, conductive silicone pads, and a central unit housing micro-lights and a tiny screen. “Clitoral training. Stage one.” His voice was detached, clinical. He spread Selina’s trembling thighs wider with his free hand, exposing her glistening, shaved cunt, her tiny clit visibly engorged and pulsing.
“No! Please! Not yet! It’s too—!” Selina begged, thrashing.
Jason leaned down, his breath hot on her ear. “Shut up and take it, whore. You wanted this. Begged for it. Now feel it.” He tightened his grip on her shoulders.
Dick positioned the device. The silicone pads opened like tiny jaws. With terrifying precision, he clamped them firmly around the base of Selina’s swollen clit, isolating the tiny, hypersensitive bud. The pads adhered slightly, sealing with a faint suction. Selina whimpered, a high-pitched sound of pure, overwhelmed sensation. The tiny screen flickered to life, displaying biometrics: pulse spiking, galvanic skin response off the charts.
Dick tapped a control. A low, resonant buzz vibrated through the clamp, directly into Selina’s clit.
Her entire body jerked like a live wire. A guttural cry, half-sob, half-moan, ripped from her throat. Her back arched violently off the table, held down only by Jason’s iron strength. Her eyes rolled back, showing white. The vibration wasn't just stimulation; it was an insistence, a deep, penetrating thrum that bypassed pleasure and went straight to a primal, overwhelming demand. Her clit felt like it was being vibrated from the inside out, the tiny structure straining, swelling further under the relentless pulse. Wetness gushed from her pussy, soaking the table beneath her.
“Sensitivity baseline established,” Dick murmured, watching the screen as numbers scrolled. “Commencing Stage One conditioning: Low-frequency electro-stimulation combined with sustained pressure oscillation.” He tapped another control.
The buzz intensified slightly, layering over the deep vibration. Then, sharp, tiny jolts – like miniature electric shocks – began firing erratically into her clamped clit. Not enough to cause real damage, but perfectly calibrated to the razor’s edge between agony and ecstasy.
Selina cried again, a raw, eager sound. Her hips bucked uncontrollably against Jason’s restraining knee. Her breasts, swollen and aching, heaved with each frantic gasp. The sensations were too much, too focused, too exactly what she’d confessed to craving. The device wasn't just tormenting her clit; it was claiming it, forcing it into prominence, making it the pretty center of her universe.
Jason watched her unravel, his own arousal palpable. He leaned closer, his voice a dark promise vibrating against her sweat-slicked skin. “Feel it growing yet, kitty? Feel that little pearl starting to swell? Just wait…” He chuckled, low and dangerous. “We’re just getting started. Dick’s gonna make sure your clit gets nice and big… and I’m gonna make sure you fucking feel every second of it. Gonna make you love it.” His hand slid down, calloused fingers roughly tracing the outer labia, avoiding the clamped epicenter but sending fresh jolts of sensation through her oversensitive flesh. Selina could only whimper, lost in the electric storm centered on her throbbing, captive clit, her newly swollen breasts aching in time with each cruel pulse. The training had begun.
The relentless buzz finally ceased, leaving Selina gasping on the cold metal table, her body a trembling map of oversensitivity. Sweat slicked her skin, mingling with the pearlescent sheen of the enhancement gel still radiating heat from her swollen, aching breasts. Her clit throbbed violently within the unyielding clamp, a distinct, swollen prominence now painfully visible. Jason released her shoulders, his satisfied smirk lingering as he wiped her wetness from his fingers onto her hip. "Look at that little button," he rasped, tapping the device lightly, making her flinch and whine. "Starting to pop already."
Dick disengaged the clamp with clinical detachment, the sudden absence of vibration and pressure leaving Selina feeling oddly hollow and raw. "Initial response is accelerated," he noted, eyeing the biometric readout before placing the device aside. "Elevate her." Jason hauled Selina upright, her legs buckling. Dick scooped her trembling form easily, carrying her the few steps to the narrow cot. He laid her down, the thin mattress offering little comfort but a stark contrast to the metal. "Rest," he commanded, pulling the blanket over her shivering body. "The gel needs time to integrate. Your body requires acclimation."
Selina curled onto her side, facing the wall, trying to hide the tears leaking silently down her cheeks. The deep, hot ache in her breasts was constant, a heavy fullness that felt alien and terrifyingly present. Between her legs, her clit pulsed like a second heart, swollen and hypersensitive, the ghost of the vibrations still echoing in her nerves. She heard Jason grunt, "Gonna check the perimeter. See if our eavesdropping kitty attracted any flies." The door hissed open and shut, leaving her alone with Dick.
Silence stretched, thick with unspoken tension and the hum of the base's systems. Then, Dick’s weight settled on the edge of the cot. She flinched as his hand, surprisingly gentle, rested on her blanket-covered hip. "The ache is significant?" His voice, calm but devoid of warmth, was closer than she expected.
"Y-yes," she whispered hoarsely, her throat raw from screaming.
"Binding restricts circulation, impedes the enhancement process," he stated matter-of-factly. His hand slid slowly, deliberately, under the blanket. Fingertips traced the curve of her waist, moving upward over the heated swell of her flank. She tensed, bracing for pain, but his touch remained steady and controlled. His palm finally settled heavily over her left breast, the heat of his skin merging with the internal fire of the gel. He began to knead, not with cruelty, but with deep, firm pressure, working from the outer swell towards the painfully erect nipple.
A choked gasp escaped her. It hurt, the deep tissue protesting the manipulation, but underneath the ache was a shocking wave of relief. The pressure eased the tightness, counteracted the burning throb. His thumb swept deliberately over the swollen peak, the barbell piercing providing a sharp counterpoint. Against her will, a low sound vibrated in her chest, almost a moan, almost a… purr. She bit her lip, ashamed.
"Good," Dick murmured, his other hand joining, mirroring the slow, deep massage on her other breast. His touch was expert, finding the knotted tension in the swollen tissue and working it loose. The relentless ache began to morph, softened by the rhythmic pressure, blending into a heavy, almost luxurious sensation. "The gel encourages vascular engorgement. Massage facilitates dispersion, minimizes discomfort." He paused, his thumbs circling her nipples simultaneously, applying focused pressure that made her arch slightly into his hands despite herself. "Why the bindings, Selina? Truly?" His voice was lower now, probing. "Before we found you? Beyond just hiding."
The combination of the surprisingly pleasurable massage, her exhaustion, and the lowering of his guard loosened her tongue. The words tumbled out, muffled against the wall. "He... my contact... he promised." She swallowed. "Said... said he had connections. With... surgeons. Body mod artists. Futas. Specialists." Dick’s hands never stopped their methodical kneading, encouraging the confession. "He said... they could stretch them. My nipples. Make them long. Sensitive. Really fucking sensitive." A shiver ran through her, unrelated to cold. "He said... nipple towers. Heavy ones. Pulling them down... elongating the tissue." Her voice dropped to a whisper thick with illicit excitement. "Said his futa connections... they loved big, swollen nipples. Said they’d... play with them for hours. Suck them. Clamp them. Attach weights. Make them drip." Her hips shifted unconsciously at the memory of the fantasy, heat pooling low in her belly again, countering the lingering soreness from the clamp. "Wanted them... permanent. Thick. Obscene."
Dick’s thumbs pressed harder into the stiff peaks, rolling the barbells firmly. Selina gasped, the sharp sensation shooting straight to her still-throbbing clit. "Elongation," he stated, his tone analytical yet holding a dark undercurrent. "Tissue manipulation through sustained tension. Achievable." He released one breast momentarily, reaching into a pouch on his utility belt. He withdrew two small, gleaming stainless steel cylinders, threaded internally, and two corresponding, heavy-looking steel balls with screw threads. Nipple towers. "We can begin the process. Now." He held one cylinder near her swollen, glistening nipple. "Consent?"
Selina stared at the cold metal, then up at Dick’s impassive blue eyes. The fear was there, visceral. But underneath, fanned by his touch and her own confession, burned that raw, desperate hunger. Her contact had promised. Dick was delivering. Her breath hitched. "Y-yes," she breathed. "God, yes. Do it."
Dick didn't hesitate. With precise fingers, he unscrewed the heavy steel ball from one tower. He positioned the hollow cylinder directly over her left nipple, the cool metal rim pressing against the areola. Using a smooth, controlled motion, he began to screw the cylinder down. It engaged with the threads on the barbell piercing. Selina whimpered as the metal column tightened, drawing her nipple upwards, pulling it taut, stretching the sensitive tissue into the narrow tunnel. The sensation was intense – a deep, pulling stretch combined with the unforgiving pressure of the metal. He screwed it down until her nipple was fully encased, the tip just visible at the top, stretched long and thin within the tube. The heavy steel ball followed, screwing onto the top of the cylinder with a final, definitive click. Its weight was immediate, a constant, insistent downward pull on the stretched nipple, a relentless demand for elongation.
He repeated the process on her right breast. Screw down the cylinder onto the piercing, encasing the swollen peak. Screw on the heavy steel ball. Click. Selina lay pinned by the combined weight, her nipples trapped in cold steel, pulled long and thin, a constant, aching stretch radiating deep into her breasts. Dick’s hand returned to her flesh, massaging around the bases of the towers, the juxtaposition of soothing touch and cruel tension utterly overwhelming. Her earlier purr returned, deeper now, laced with a thread of pained ecstasy. The training deepened.
Meanwhile, Jason moved like smoke through the dripping, neon-lit alleys behind the safehouse. The air reeked of stale beer, ozone, and something vaguely chemical. His target was the "Velvet Gash," a notorious underground club catering to Bludhaven's more extreme fetishists, rumored to be a hub for the elusive futa circle Selina’s contact had tapped. He bypassed the bouncer with a flash of counterfeit creds and a glare, descending stairs that vibrated with muffled bass. Inside, the air was thick with sweat, synth-smoke, and the tang of pheromones. Bodies writhed under pulsing black lights – leather, latex, gleaming metal restraints. He scanned the crowd, eyes narrowed, looking for the specific markers Oracle had flagged: modified pheromone diffusers, telltale cybernetic augmentations near the groin.
He spotted them near a private booth: two figures radiating an unnatural aura. Tall, powerfully built, moving with predatory grace. Their attire was minimal, designed to showcase the significant, semi-erect phalluses – thick, veined, and glistening with artificial lubrication – protruding from where a vulva would typically be. Futas. Enhanced. Their eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the room like predators assessing prey. Jason approached, his presence radiating danger, cutting through the club's haze. He leaned against the edge of their booth, his voice a low, dangerous rumble audible even over the bass. "Heard you had plans. For a certain cat-burglar. Selina Kyle." The lead futa, her features sharp and androgynous under the strobing light, turned slowly. A slow, unnerving smile spread across her face, revealing sharp canines. Her gaze swept over Jason, dismissive yet intrigued. "Plans?" she purred, her voice a deep, synthetic contralto. She ran a long-nailed finger along the length of her impressive cock. "Honey, we had blueprints."