Summary: Selina left him at the altar for another man, so Batman decided to date Spider-Man's super attractive, super slutty thief ex-girlfriend, Felicia Hardy AKA the Black Cat. After six months of dating, everything was going smoothly until Bruce made the arrogant decision to visit a nude beach. Let's just say there was a reason why Selina left him...and spoilers, it was something money couldn't buy.
*********
Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne, always together, always the Bat or Cat, or so he believed. They were supposed to marry. She was supposed to take vows.
But she never made it. Selina left him at the altar.
Him. Billionaire playboy philanthropist and founding member of the greatest superhero group.
He thrust himself into work—into Batman.
Gotham's skyline brooded in stone and steel beneath a violet sky. The moon was full, bloated, heavy, casting light down like a spotlight on the sins of the city. And tonight, a new kind of sin had slinked its way into the Gotham Museum of Antiquities.
Batman stood on the rooftop of the museum's east wing, his cape whipping in the wind, jaw set.
The silent alarm had been triggered three minutes ago. He arrived in two. The case in question held the Obsidian Tiger idol—untouched for decades, sealed behind high-tech security, triple-warded with motion sensors and sonic locks. Only one figure in Gotham had ever come close to breaching its defenses.
But this wasn't Catwoman's work.
The file footage showed something else: a different silhouette with a bigger bust and less shapely waist. He was about to drop through the skylight when he heard the faintest giggle below.
"Too slow, pointy ears."
Batman turned—and there she was: Black Cat.
She crouched on a gargoyle across from him, perched like a question he didn't yet know how to answer. Platinum hair flowed behind her like living moonlight. Her black catsuit shimmered slightly, made of something tight, flexible, and laced with glossy accents that traced every line of her figure. A plunging V of white fur outlined the deep neckline, drawing unapologetic attention to her cleavage.
She leaned back slightly, arching one leg over the other, her curves emphasized by every lazy, feline motion.
Batman's brain, trained to analyze instantly, couldn't help but calculate.
'Approximate height: 5'11" in those heeled boots. Bust: 36. Waist: 24. Hips: 36.' And not a single bit of armor, unless fashion counted.
"You're supposed to be in New York," Batman stated openly.
"Aw. Did the Bat come out just for me?" she teased, lips curving upward. "I'm touched."
"Why are you here," he demanded.
She twirled the obsidian idol in one hand like a stress ball. "If you're going to growl at me, at least buy me dinner first."
"Return the idol."
"You always this direct?"
"No. Just with thieves in skin tight suits."
Her green eyes glittered behind her mask. "Mmm. Then maybe I'm exactly your type."
Batman launched himself across the gap without another word, landing hard on the gargoyle's edge. She dodged before his boot even touched stone, flipping backward onto another ledge with a giggle. She was fast—unnaturally fast. Her agility rivaled Selina's, but her style was flashier and riskier.
Batman threw a batarang, aimed not to hit but to corner. She caught it mid-air. That shocked him.
'Does she possess meta powers—?'
"Wow. Gotham's really upping its flirting game." Black Cat flipped it between her fingers before tossing it aside. "What's next? Handcuffs?"
"I've got some," he said.
She laughed. He chased.
They moved like dancers—him solid, brutal, precision in motion. Her? She fought like liquid silk. Fluid, always moving, never where he expected. They circled across the rooftop, her claws flashing, his gauntlets blocking.
"Catwoman never told me Gotham boys hit so hard," she said, ducking a sweep.
The mention of his ex-fiancee caused him to tense. She spun low and swept his legs out from under him. He blocked mid-fall and rolled.
"Ooh, your balls shrank. You know, she's a legend in New York. Half the reason I came."
He swung. She dodged.
"You're here for reputation?"
"I'm here for fun."
He caught her wrist, twisted, pinned her against the rooftop ledge. Her hefty chest pressed against his armor, rising and falling as she breathed hard.
"Then you're in the wrong city," Batman growled.
"Oh, I don't know," she purred. "This city has its charms…"
For a moment, neither moved.
Then she looked down. At his arm muscles. At his armor. And very deliberately at the part of him that was a little too pressed against her hip.
"Mmhmm," she said. "Interesting."
"Excuse me?"
She winked. "Nothing."
And that's when she dropped.
She twisted out of his grip with a move that seemed impossible, landed on one hand, and whipped a leg up between his legs—hard. He thought his cup would be enough.
Bzzzt!
Cue the lightning from a device on her wrist. A very undignified grunt escaped him as stars exploded across his vision. He crumpled to one knee, eyes clenched, jaw locked.
Black Cat, already two ledges away, blew him a kiss. "Sorry, Bats. A girl's gotta make an exit."
And with that, she vanished into the city's shadows, giggling all the way.
A few minutes later, Batman still hadn't moved from the hit. He took a slow, shallow breath, wincing.
"That hurt," he muttered to no one.
But as he stood, shaky but regaining composure, a small smile tugged at the edge of his mouth.
It had been a while since anyone kicked him in the ego and the crotch.
It reminded him of someone.
***
The Batcave was silent, save for the rhythmic tapping of Bruce's fingers on the console and the quiet, hissed tsss of an ice pack being shifted against testicles that were deeply offended.
The legendary Batman sat in his chair, shirtless, still slightly bruised in both pride and groin. A cloth-wrapped ice pack rested on his lap like a frosty crown of shame. Alfred had offered assistance. The Wayne heir had responded with a glare that could've shattered diamonds.
He exhaled slowly and narrowed his focus. Above the Batcomputer's screens floated a high-res image of her—the mysterious thief who'd kicked him in the family legacy.
Black Cat.
"Computer," Bruce announced, adjusting the cold pack and straightening in his chair. "Begin investigation log. Subject: Black Cat."
His fingers moved quickly over the keyboard. Footage from the museum streamed across the screen in high resolution. He rewound to the entry point—laser systems, bypassed with compact mirrors and flexible fiber. He zoomed in on her gear.
"Custom tools. Modified New York tech. Not local. Hrn."
He pulled up databases, cross-referencing recent arrivals to Gotham with relevant theft patterns, flight records, and hotel check-ins using known aliases.
"White hair. Athletic. Acrobatic. American accent. Comfortable in combat and improvisation."
Nothing so far. Must have worn a proper disguise with a wig.
At the same time, the facial recognition software had already pinged half a dozen images from New York's crime databases.
The earliest name was Felicia Hardy.
Her file was empty on official arrests but heavy on almost incidents. Interpol had a whole subsection on her... mostly redacted.
"I see. She went through a couple aliasas before becoming Black Cat."
He brought up all the info, separated the truth from false, and created an info profile.
Name: Felicia Sara Hardy
Aliases: Black Cat, Blue Jewels, Spider-Man's Chick, "That Damn Cat" (unofficial, NYPD)
Height: 5'10"
Weight: ~140 lbs
Three Sizes: 36-24-36
Bruce scanned her known associates. Allies. Lovers. Enemies. Felicia had nothing but Black Cat did; specifically, a special bond with Spider-Man. From the look of it, it was similar to what Batman and Catwoman had. Flirty, horny, and a rumoured secret in New York.
He tapped again.
What caught his attention next was more relevant: her Gotham connections.
Two names surfaced.
Tamara Blake – Boutique designer in Burnside. Former cat burglar, now "legitimate" fashion mogul.
Odessa Carmichael – Gallery owner. Has a history of laundering stolen art through curated shows.
Both women had been spotted at Gotham's social scene recently. Specifically, they were on the guest list for an upcoming event…
Bruce tapped his earpiece.
"Alfred."
His butler was upstairs cleaning while he investigated. "Yes, Master Wayne?"
"The charity gala at the Iceberg Lounge tomorrow. Who's hosting?"
"That would be Mr. Cobblepot, sir. A surprisingly legitimate effort this time—raising funds for museum restorations. Likely to attract Gotham's elite…and its less savory connoisseurs."
Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Felicia has a pattern. She attends events where high-value items are displayed. She scopes the room. Times the exits. Dances with someone important. Steals something priceless. Then pretends to sleep with them."
There were two hush-hush reports from wealthy Gotham men on a white-haired woman prepared to have sex with them only to render them unconscious by electrocuting their balls. The same tactic she used against him.
"Charming," Alfred said dryly. "Would you like me to come down and ice your—"
"No, thank you."
A profile of the event flicked up. On display for auction: a private collection of rare Art Nouveau jewelry. Valued in the millions. Heavy security. High fashion. Perfect bait.
He smirked, just a little.
"She'll be there," Bruce said.
"And will you be attending as the Dark Knight?"
Bruce looked down at the melting ice pack on his lap.
"No. I think it's time Bruce Wayne made an appearance."
***
Felicia Hardy and Bruce Wayne. Former lovers of Spider-Man and Black Cat.
"Bruce Wayne. Hrm."
That look in her eye. Suddenly, Felicia was no longer interested in stealing. She was interested in this tall, attractive billionaire that decided to approach her out of all the pretty gals here.
At the same time, she made him work for it.
"I don't date billionaires," Felicia said with a lazy smirk, reclining across the leather booth of the art gala's private lounge. She wore a black satin gown that clung to her body like second skin—snug at the waist, hugging her hips, and dipping dangerously low across her chest. The slit up the leg wasn't so much a detail as a threat. "They're predictable."
Bruce put a hand in his pocket, one brow arching ever so slightly. "Then you've been dating the wrong billionaires."
Felicia laughed, tilting her head just enough for a strand of white-blonde hair to slip across her shoulder. "Flirt."
"Guilty. How about a date? Two nights from now."
"So fast?"
"Always fast."
"Hm…I'll think about it."
That night, Felicia Hardy did not steal.
Two nights went by. Felicia Hardy stepped out of a sleek black car in front of Gotham's oldest rooftop restaurant, her hourglass figure framed in a deep wine-red dress that shimmered under the moonlight. Her curves flowed like water—narrow at the waist, full in the hips and bust. The halter design left her shoulders bare, her collarbones glowing in the amber light. Gotham itself seemed to pause and admire.
Bruce met her at the entrance, impeccably tailored in a midnight suit with no tie, just one button undone at the neck, Gotham's trademark smolder embedded in his DNA. He didn't stare—but he definitely looked.
"Trying to impress me?" Felicia teased.
"I thought about dressing down," Bruce said smoothly, "but then I remembered who I was meeting."
She smirked and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. "Good answer."
Dinner was charming chaos. They ordered champagne like it was sparkling water. Felicia was quick-witted, delightfully irreverent. She poked at Bruce's public image:
"I've heard the rumours. How come the Prince of Gotham pumps and dumps so often?"
He volleyed back with sly retorts—
"It's called a flash of an overwhelmingly great night."
"Sounds like an excuse to me, honey."
"It's not. Trust me."
She teased his crotch with her foot, ordered dessert before the entrée, and somehow managed to look both elegant and entirely unpredictable while doing it.
Bruce, for once, was relaxed. Genuinely amused. Intrigued.
The night stretched past dinner. They walked along the edge of Gotham's skyline, Felicia's dress rippling behind her like a crimson flame. She leaned on the balcony railing, city lights glittering in her eyes.
"You always take first dates this seriously?" Felicia asked, swirling the last of her wine. "Or is this because of your ex-fiancee?"
Bruce stood beside her. "She's already moved on. So have I."
She gave him a look—curious, but pleased. "Looks like we're both in the same boat."
"Oh?"
"Had a stud of a boyfriend. Lost him to a new chick." She smiled. "Don't fall in love with me too, Bruce Wayne. I bite."
He leaned in, voice low. "Too late to warn me?"
Their kiss was warm, electric, teasing. It wasn't desperate—it was a promise. One they both knew they were interested in keeping.
"I have a penthouse—"
"Own one?"
"Mhm. How about we spend the night there?"
"Spend the night or fuck the night?"
God, she smelled good. Bruce went in for another kiss and came out with his cock twitching in his pants. "Definitely fuck."
Going to the penthouse, things moved like a waltz. There was no kissing, no furiously making out. Not yet. Not when there was always the media paying attention to the Wayne heir.
"Oooh, me likey!"
The penthouse was massive. Duh, he was a billionaire. There was nothing he had left.
"My ex would be jealous."
"The stud," Bruce joked.
Felicia walked barefoot across the marble floor, her red dress unzipped halfway. Her figure was poetry: DD-cup breasts with a tight, toned core, thighs that flexed with each step, a back that arched like a feline stretch.
"Trust me," she said as she looked at the window overlooking the city, "he was something else."
Bruce poured them two drinks, watching her from behind the rim of his glass. "More than me?"
"Getting jealous?" she asked, slinking into his space.
"You're… hard to ignore."
She looped her arms around his neck, brushing her lips against his. "Good. I hate being ignored."
They kissed again—deeper now, charged. Her hands slid down his chest, unfastening his shirt slowly. He unzipped her dress in turn, and it slithered down her body like spilled wine, revealing matching dark lace that barely concealed anything at all.
They stumbled toward the bedroom in stages—laughing, kissing, teasing. Felicia was fire and silk, trailing her nails down his back, whispering things he wasn't supposed to remember the next day but knew he absolutely would.
Throb, throb, throb.
Bruce hadn't been with anyone since Selina. Since she left him at the altar. His cock was a cage in his pants.
Finally, it was time. Bruce stood at the foot of the bed, Felicia already laid across it, expectant, amused, and very ready.
He unbuttoned his pants, slid them down, and then—
"Oh."
Felicia tilted her head. What sprang out was a healthy four inch cock. An erection disproportionate to his tall, muscular 6'4 figure. Bruce Wayne was the legendary Batman and an equally famous playboy.
His balls were squeezed tight. Selina did a hell of a job draining them throughout the years. A long time ago, they used to hang but Selina…god, that toxic slut wrung him dry. Bruce didn't think anything of it, both of his four inch cock or his tense, golf-ball sized pouch.
His cock leaked after seeing Felicia's expression. He was fucking ready to go.
And then came the words.
"Oh. Interesting."
Two syllables.
One raised brow.
A single tilt of the head.
Bruce's soul momentarily left his body.
He knew that tone. He'd heard it before, though never directed at him. It was the kind of tone that could make a man question everything about himself. But he wasn't just any man. He was Batman. And if there was one thing Batman didn't do, it was back down.
Felicia's soft gasp filled the room as his hands found her hips, lifting her effortlessly. Bruce's lips crashed into hers, all teeth and tongue and hunger. She moaned, her arms wrapping around his neck.
Felicia mumbled between breaths of the kiss, "Mmm, you sure are horny!"
His cock pressed against her wet cunt. That was when he broke the kiss and looked down at her. "Are you ready?"
Felica smirked and spread her legs wide. "I was born ready."
And then he pushed inside her, his cock sliding into her tight, slick cunt with a one thrust.
Felicia cooed. "Finally! A cock!"
Bruce went right to fucking!
"O-oh my!"
Slam, slam, slam! He fucked her as hard as he could. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her open for him as he fucked her, his cock pistoning in and out of her cunt with a force that made her gasp.
"Oh my! You really are something!" Smiling feverishly, her tits bounced with every thrust, her nipples hard and aching. "Oh god! Mmm, you're fucking me pretty fast, aren't you?"
The peak of humanity. The fastest a normal person could possibly fuck a woman. Felicia smiled through it all.
Wham!
"O-oh! Right there! A-almost! You're almost reaching it!"
She was starting to moan. She was starting to hiccup. He was starting to learn. It wasn't that he wasn't good at what he did. Bruce knew how to use his body, knew how to make her feel good. But Felicia…
'S-she's much looser and wetter than Selina!'
His cock throbbed. Selina? Who cared about Selina? He had a perfectly fine babe right here!
"Oooh, I feel it! I can feel you—mmmph!" Felicia let out a sigh. "Yes, yes, yes! Good boy!"
He fucked her with the biggest cock possible at the fastest pace possible.
Remembering his ex, Bruce fucked her with a single-minded intensity, his cock pounding into her cunt as if he could make up for its size with sheer force. His breaths came in harsh pants, his fingers digging into her hips as he pushed himself deeper, harder, faster. He could feel her tightening around him, her cunt clenching as she edged closer to the edge, and it only spurred him on.
"Come on, Felicia," he growled, desperate. "Cum for me."
"Haah! Hahaha! Y-you'll have to work for it!"
That arrogance. That smirk. God, he loved the toxicity of women. It was the same with Selina and it was the same with Felicia. This need to prove himself.
He pulled out, flipped her over—
"Oh—!"
And fucked her pronebone. Felicia Hardy's ass wasn't as fat as Selina. It didn't bounce as much. But holy fuuuck! Ass was ass! Pussy was pussy! He didn't last long. He couldn't.
"F-fuck!"
All that bravado, all that flipping her over and…
"Oh! Oh, mm! I'm cumming too, babe!"
Was she? Bruce couldn't tell. What he could tell were his tightening balls as he thrust into her one last time. He grunted, gasped, and he emptied himself inside her.
He pulled out, spent. Dribbles of cum leapt on her pale ass. Like jello, there were some lingering jiggles from the fuckery.
Felicia heaved and looked over her shoulder. She smiled. It didn't seem all that authentic. "Not too bad, Wayne." That was until she dipped down. Her smile shot right up. "Ooh, still hard. Now that's interesting!"
This time, she said it with a giggle. This time, Bruce couldn't fathom what the meaning of it was.
They carried on. The night proceeded. Passion was had. She stayed until morning. They decided to do this again. Nothing bad happened.
But somewhere in the back of his mind… those words looped.
"Interesting."
Why interesting?
Not "wow," or "oh my," or even "that'll do nicely." Just "interesting," like he didn't impress her. Like she expected more.
Like…
Like she thought, "Oh, right, this was how a cock was supposed to look like."
Bruce shoved the thoughts of the world's greatest detective and decided to be a man in love. He decided to keep dating Felicia for the next four months. After that, he forgot all about that little comment.
***
Their six month anniversary.
Ha, like that was an anniversary at all. But when you were young, in love, and most importantly rich, any date could be an anniversary.
Bruce and Felicia decided to have dinner with some of her old friends—two women she'd grown up with in Queens. Both carried that playful, no-filter energy of longtime best friends.
The conversation drifted, as it often did with wine and nostalgia, to their younger days. Midnight rooftop parties. Skinny dips in hotel pools. Club hopping across Europe. And then, someone mentioned nude beaches.
"Ah, yes, remember that one in Spain?" laughed Odessa, tipping back her third glass of red. A black woman with long dark hair and iconic gold coin earrings, she was often the most serious. "We got kicked out for trying to start a volleyball game without tops on. Pathetic men."
"That guy in the banana hammock tried to help," said Tamara, gagging with laughter. Short brown hair and brown eyes, she was rather ordinary compared to the beauties that were Odessa and Felicia.
Felicia rolled her eyes. "Please. That was long ago."
Bruce, intrigued, leaned in slightly. "You've been to a nude beach?"
Felicia shook her head. "Just once. It was years ago."
"Don't get insecure," Odessa added.
"I won't," Bruce said with a refreshing smile. "I'm just curious about Felicia; she's flirty but I didn't know she was into voyeurism."
Another roll of the eyes. "Oh my god, Bruce."
Her friends were already giggling and buzzing about how "fun it was," how "they'd totally do it again". Odessa Drake is one of the wealthiest people on the American East Coast. Money-wise, it wasn't an issue going back there. Felicia just didn't want to go for some reason.
'A weakness, maybe?'
He was like this with Selina. Selina always pressed his buttons and so he did the same in his own way. With Felicia, he had finally found a button and, feeling impulsive and oddly curious, turned to Felicia with a smile that was part mischief and part test.
"I've always wanted to go," he said, smoothly. "Let's do it. Why not?"
Her eyes widened. "Bruce, no. You're not serious."
"Sure I am," he replied, casually sipping his wine. "You only live once."
"Felicia, I love this man," Odessa said.
Felicia was quick to have something to fire back with. "Odessa, what about your husband?"
"He'll be okay with it, trust me," Odessa said.
Felicia's protests were firm. "I don't think it's a good idea. What if paparazzi find us? For Bruce and even you Odessa, you're rich! You might get blackmailed!"
"Oh, come on. Don't be a pussy," Odessa insisted.
Bruce persisted too—not forcefully, but with the kind of calm insistence that eventually wore her down.
"Private beach," he said. "No press. No onlookers. Just friends."
"Still…"
"You went before. I haven't. Don't I deserve the full European experience?" His smirk made it impossible for her to hold her ground.
Eventually, Felicia gave in.
Which led to now.
The private jet sliced through the clouds with lazy ease. Bruce sat near the window, reviewing documents on a tablet while Felicia lounged in a soft white wrap, her sunglasses already perched atop her head despite being indoors. Across from them, Odessa and Tamara were talking and joking around.
Especially about Bruce.
To be so confident about going to the beach, it must have meant something, right?
Bruce remained calm, collected, perfectly Bruce. But inside, there was a peculiar hum of anticipation—not about the nudity or the novelty of it all. But about observing. About watching Felicia in a context so raw, so vulnerable, that maybe—just maybe—he'd see something real in her that wasn't filtered through Selina's ghost.
He had never done something like this with Selina—or with any lover for that matter. This was new. This was fresh.
When they landed in the Carribeans, the car ride to the hotel was smooth and luxurious. Bruce had spared no expense. The beach was more of a colony. There was a small-time town of nudists, both foreign and local, and plenty of fun to be had.
They unpacked slowly, everyone choosing their rooms, drinks handed out again, towels and sunblock passed around like it was summer camp for the mildly scandalous.
Felicia stood at the edge of the hotel's balcony. She breathed in and out, staring out at the sand. There was dread. There was fond remembrance. "I can't believe we're actually doing this," the white-haired thief murmured.
The Dark Knight came up beside her, close but not touching. "Regretting it?"
Felicia sighed. "Just nervous. I was a lot younger when I did this last time. Everything… bounced differently."
"You still bounce," he said evenly.
She laughed despite herself, smacking his shoulder. "That's not what I mean."
"I'm guessing you mean your ex-boyfriend?"
"What a detective," she joked. "But yes."
"Did you push you to do it?"
"Nope," she popped, "the opposite. I pushed him and he loved it." She sighed. She sounded like she missed it. "It is what it is."
"And you're with me."
"With money," she joked.
They stayed there a moment longer, the wind toying with her white wrap, the scent of saltwater drifting up from the sea. Bruce studied her profile—her carefully maintained glamour, her insecurities that slipped out when she thought he wasn't watching. She was beautiful. Of course she was. But more than that, she was trying so hard to hold onto his attention.
And that's what had finally convinced him to go along with this trip.
Because somewhere, deep down, he wanted to see what happened when Felicia Hardy stopped trying. When there was nothing left to prove. When it was just her and the sand and the truth of her own skin.
And maybe—if he was honest with himself—it was also because part of him hoped he wouldn't see Selina's shadow at all. Just her. Or nothing.
****
At the time, it sounded adventurous, liberating, and sophisticated. The kind of thing a charming billionaire did in European novels where everyone drank rosé and somehow no one ever got sunburned.
But now?
Now, standing barefoot on the blazing sand with two of Felicia's very excited, very uninhibited friends skipping toward the beach like it was a candy store, Bruce was beginning to feel… something. Wearing black and white swim trunks, surrounded by beautiful ladies, his balls churning and feeling the temperature.
Terror. He was feeling terror.
The beach was crowded. With naked people. Everywhere. Like, aggressively naked. A volleyball game was going on to the left, and not a single bounce was from the ball. There was a dark-skinned man sunbathing spread-eagle reading War and Peace.
"Oh, wow, Bruce! Look at that!"
Felicia got into it. She pointed at the faraway dong. Batman's balls dropped. It was like a fucking coke can! What the fuck!?
"Told you the BBC isn't a myth," Odessa remarked.
Tamara shrugged. "Still don't believe it. Look at the math. Look at the studies."
"Pfft."
Bruce adjusted his designer shades and cleared his throat, discreetly trying to stay behind Felicia. He set-up the towels. He busied himself. The other ladies were already peeling off their clothes. Felicia was just about to as well until she noticed her boyfriend was taking his sweet time.
"This was your idea, Bruce," Felicia sang as she pulled him by the wrist. "Come on."
Odessa chimed in, "Yeah, billionaire boy, no backing out now."
"I was just… making sure the spot was level," Bruce said.
"Uh-huh," said Odessa, eyebrow raised, arms folded.
One by one, the ladies stripped down. First Odessa. Her bust was large and bouncy and instantly caught some male gazes. Her long black hair was set in a beautiful ponytail complete with a pink flower, thin eyebrows, fierce confident eyes, and those coin earrings. She was like gold, a hand on her hip and smirking.
Tamara was next. She was rather plain with medium-sized breasts and a tight ass. She did a little spin. She was thrilled.
Felicia was the last, taking her time as she unhooked her top with the confidence of someone who'd walked several runways and had no intention of stopping today.
The biggest breasts, DD-cups, ones that Bruce was more than acquainted with. A shaved, beautiful pink pussy and a peach-like booty. Literally, imagine the lines, imagine the shape, and that was Felicia from the back.
And then… there was Bruce. Still very much clothed. He was rummaging in his beach bag like he'd lost the Bat-Signal in there.
Felicia stared him down, smiling. "Bruce? Come on."
"Right." Bruce stood up straight. He was Batman. No need to feel insecure. That was when, right behind Odessa and Tamara, he saw a couple. A white man with a package that could only be described as average with a local Carribean woman.
The Batman's confidence was quickly plummeting. Reality was crashing down. Average. He could tell the average dick from above average because he was a detective. Because he studied the human body and mathematics.
He fiddled with the strings of his swim trunks.
That was when Odessa, with absolutely no hesitation, snuck behind him, hooked her finger in the waistband of Bruce's swim trunks, and yanked.
There was a stunned silence. Bruce froze like a deer caught in the full moonlight of social humiliation.
His penis…was tiny.
Oh, yes, with Felicia, he could say anything. To anything. She didn't judge. But the world? But this beach? They literally saw a big black flaccid cock less than a minute ago. That sausage-sized dong was burned into their mind.
To compare any cock to Bruce was to disrespect. Flaccid, balls tight and shrivelled up was an acorn.
Tamara put a hand to her mouth, stifling what seemed to be a laugh. Meanwhile, Odessa circled over to the front, tilted her head, and smiled. An arrogant, condescending smile. Rich person to rich person.
Bruce laughed as smoothly as he could. "I thought I'd make it look presentable. I shaved."
A bald little cock on a man with a six-pack, huge beefy arms, and tree-trunk legs. All that masculinity and he was gifted with this.
Odessa side-eyed Felicia. "I suppose you like acorns, Felicia?"
Felicia just smiled. "Don't worry, ladies. He's a grower, not a shower."
Laughter exploded. Bruce sat down quickly. Very quickly.
"Oh, come on, let's take a walk!" Felicia insisted, pulling and tugging him by the air. "Bruuuce~!"
"It's fine. I'll stay here."
Felicia pouted. "Party pooper."
"Don't worry, it's easier to walk and stare when you're only with chicks," Odessa said with that same rich-woman smirk. Most of all, she was more than keen on saying it in front of him, Felicia's boyfriend and the infamous Prince of Gotham.
He wanted to cup his dick and balls. Then remembered doing so would make everything worse for him.
"Hey, Felicia! It's so good to see you!"
Huh? Bruce looked to the left. A man was walking toward them. A very confident man.
Brown hair. Smiling. A towel draped casually over one shoulder. Completely, painfully naked with a cock that was swinging like a grandfather clock.
His own cock twitched and tried to match the monster cock. Bruce didn't know this guy. All he knew was that he was a threat—
"No. Way." Felicia giggled and stood up like a shot. "Hey, Peter!" she beamed and gave him a big, bouncy, naked hug.
Bruce's eyes twitched.
'Peter…Parker…'
The stud of an ex. The ex-boyfriend. The one that Felicia always compared him to.
"Trust me, he doesn't touch you when it come to stuff like this."
"Ahh, he was just so lazy!"
"Some days, all he cared about were his own morals! Never taking me out on dates!"
Blah, blah, blah. All that buttering up and she forgot to mention one enormous secret: his cock was fucking gigantic. Flaccid, it was still visible as he pressed against his girlfriend's thigh.
'How long are they going to hug for?'
Not too long, fortunately."
"Great to see you." Smiling and pulling away from the hug, Peter gestured to the woman next to him. Wait, what? "Oh, and this is my wife—Selina."
Bruce didn't hear the rest. All that dick and he failed to notice the familiar D-cups nearby. The sluttiest waist and horniest green eyes. The kind that popped erections everywhere.
Time slowed. The seagulls stopped midair. The volleyball hit the sand and never bounced.
Selina Kyle.
Standing next to the stud, hung ex-boyfriend of Felicia Hardy was his ex-girlfriend too. His fiancee. And she was smiling. Happy.
Bruce's ex.
Peter's wife.
Bruce swallowed hard.
This guy. This hung bastard. Had married Selina. He stole him from her. And his entrance into Bruce's life came via hugging Bruce's naked current girlfriend while casually wielding a third leg.
Peter turned and offered a handshake. No disrespect. No glance at his dick. It was like he knew there was no point. "And you are?"
Felicia beamed as she turned to Bruce, still perfectly at ease despite the very naked reunion in progress.
"Oh! Bruce, this is Peter—Peter Parker. We went to college together. And Peter, this is Bruce Wayne. My boyfriend."
Big. Fucking. Lie. He could tell, he was a detective. This bastard…
'You're Spider-Man.'
See, Felicia wasn't yet aware of Bruce being Batman. He planned to tell her at some point. But right now, he wanted to take it slow.
Bruce extended a hand automatically, and Peter, still all smiles and beach confidence, shook it firmly. 'Too firmly. Super strength.'
The man radiated warmth, friendliness—and a kind of relaxed nudity that Bruce had only seen in porn.
"Nice to meet you," Peter said. "Bet you get this a lot but are you the Bruce Wayne? You know—"
"The billionaire," Selina intervened. "Yes. The same."
"Really?"
Peter went wide-eyed and exchanged looks with Selina, pointing at Bruce as if asking, "Really?" Selina nodded. She was from Gotham after all.
"W-wow, so you're a billionaire, huh? Nice to meet you."
"Likewise."
Bruce was curt and snappy. He was busy trying not to stare at the giant dick competing with his acorn, while simultaneously doing the kind of deductive analysis that would make the Riddler proud. Height: Bruce was taller. Build: Bruce was buffer. But cock-wise? Not even the same species.
Bruce internally ran every mental trick he knew to stimulate some kind of competitive enhancement. He imagined Felicia in that tight black dress from last month. He imagined the time she climbed on top of the Batmobile wearing nothing but heels. Nothing.
Every twitch did nothing to remove the gap between them.
Meanwhile, Peter stood like a Greek god blessed by the beach gods. Whatever that spider-bite did to him, it blessed him beyond the scope of the best of humans.
Selina, draped gracefully over Peter's side like a sundrenched queen, caught Bruce's eyes and smiled. Not a smirk. Not a sneer. A soft, devastating smile that said, oh, how the tables have turned.
Bruce gave her a polite nod. "Selina."
"Bruce," Selina replied, voice light, breezy, like she wasn't standing right next to the most physically intimidating man Bruce had ever had to shake hands with.
"So, Peter," Felicia began, "what are you doing here? Don't tell you really got addicted."
"Honestly? A little. Selina has never gone so I thought why not?"
"I'm rubbing off on you, am I? And your new girls reap the rewards." Felicia sighed dramatically.
Selina snickered. "I appreciate the rewards from one girl to another."
"Haah…lucky you."
Bruce could tell. Whatever spark he'd hoped might linger in Selina's gorgeous green eyes for him… it was gone. Replaced by warm, genuine affection for Peter. Peter. Peter with the sunny smile and the massive fucking cock that Felicia must have experienced.
He saw it too. Felicia's gaze flickered. Her tongue slipped out to lick her lips.
That dick. She could never forget it. Ever. How could any woman? How could a girl's current boyfriend?
Bruce didn't even hear what Felicia and Peter were saying. They were chatting like old friends catching up at a brunch, not like two completely exposed people just catching up in front of a crowd that included your current boyfriend and your ex-girlfriend's new life partner.
He glanced at Felicia's friends. Odessa and Tamara both had their hands over their mouths like they were watching a surprise wedding proposal. One of them whispered "Oh my god," and it wasn't even clear what they were reacting to anymore—the size, the situation, or the surreal romance drama.
Peter Parker—hung like a horse and broke.
Bruce Wayne—small dick and a literal billionaire.
"I knew it! Broke boys are the best!" Tamara insisted.
"He's bringing the white boy average up by three inches."
"And Bruce is—"
"Shush, don't say it out loud."
Bruce's acorn dick twitched. Meanwhile, as Peter laughed at a joke Selina made, his white dong jiggled and moved.
Fucking hell.
"Anyway, we should get going." Selina slipped her arm around her husband's waist. "We have a date to finish."
"Oooh, I'm jealous. Heading back to your hotel for a quick break?"
Selina looked at Peter. "Are we, honey?"
"Let's get a drink at the bar first. We've barely bathed in the great culture of the Carribeans. Plus, the match. Gotta get drunk for that."
"What the nerd says goes," Selina said. "Toodle-loo!" Her fingers gave a little wave and they walked away. Felicia gave a more open wave, smiling brightly. Smiling like her batteries had been recharged.
Silence settled over the towels.
That was when Tamara leaned over to Felicia and said—loudly enough for Bruce and everyone in the vicinity to hear—
"Was that Peter Parker? Your ex?"
Bruce slowly lowered his sunglasses and looked at the ocean.
The man who could fight gods, build satellites, and crush corporate espionage with a pen suddenly had only one thought in his mind:
The designated smartass of the group let her eyes wander over to Bruce. "Well," Odessa said, loud enough for nearby sea life to hear, "I guess he's a shower."
Felicia just smiled. Come on Felicia, defend your boyfriend over here!
Odessa held up her hands. "Hey, I'm just saying! There's science to these things."
Bruce cleared his throat. Loudly. "It's not the size that matters," he said, keeping his tone dry and dignified. "It's how you use it."
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Odessa pounced. "Ooooh. Classic line!" She turned to Felicia with a grin. "What do you think, Felicia? That true?"
Felicia, to her credit, tried. She tried to throw him a lifeline. But she caught Bruce's expression—the faint twitch in his jaw, the desperate calm in his posture—and instead, she gave a soft, coy smile and repeated, "No comment."
After becoming Batman, Bruce thought he had a lid on his emotions. He was wrong. His face went red from embarrassment as a wave of laughter washed over him.
"By the way, Bruce, are you ready?"
Bruce blinked twice. "Huh?"
"Weren't you listening? Pete invited us to play volleyball with them in ten minutes."
"Wait, what—"
Jiggle, jiggle. Her breasts jiggled when she grabbed his wrist and dragged him through. "Come on, don't be rude, babe! Let's practice first!"
Practice…?
Bruce visualized playing against the married couple. Selina was fine but Peter Parker and that baseball bat of a cock…?
Come on. Un-fucking-fair.
Ten minutes later, as they said, Peter and Selina were back. They took their places on the makeshift court, a faint crowd gathering nearby—mostly to watch what looked like the world's sexiest Baywatch episode unfold.
Team A) Felicia and Bruce: Felicia Hardy, 5'10", and double-Ds. Men salivated over her. She ignored them, focusing on their opponents. Lean legs, strong shoulders, and the kind of body that could sell both a fashion line and a security system in one ad. Phew. What a hottie!
Bruce Wayne, 6'2", broad shoulders, some attractive scars, and a below average cock. Tiny balls and a tiny cock to boot. A hilarious visual. Not a single man in the audience believed this could be Batman. Batman was a stud. This handsome, chiselled man had everything but the one thing that allowed him entry into being a dick-slinging stud.
Team B) Selina and Peter: Selina Kyle, 5'7", but packed more sass and power per inch than most women twice her height. Wider hips, a rounder booty—she had that classic "goddess in a leather catsuit" figure, and it translated surprisingly well to beach athletics. She blew kisses at the local men. If there was one upgrade between Selina and Felicia, it was that the Catomwan relished in attention much more.
Peter Parker, 5'10", wiry and flexible, leaner than Bruce and quick—too quick. He was Spider-Man, after all. And yes, the guy's cock. Every time he jumped, pivoted, or lunged, a distinctive thwap! echoed like punctuation at the end of each godlike motion.
"Are you ready?" Peter asked.
Felicia put her hands on her knees, pussy and ass out to whoever was in that direction. "Yep!"
Selina smirked and poked the bear. "And you, Bruce?"
Bruce's jaw clenched. "I am."
Peter did a jump serve. The ball flew like a cannonball over the net and Bruce had to dive to catch it. He passed it up to Felicia, who—bless her—smacked it over the net with more force than form.
Selina laughed as she bumped it to Peter. "Up you go, babe!"
Peter didn't answer. He just leapt—thwap!—and spiked the ball down with enough force to knock over someone's sun umbrella behind them. Woah.
"Point to Team B!" Odessa announced, because suddenly, she was the umpire.
Selina and Peter high-fived. First off, that thwap wasn't from his hand hitting the ball, it was from his cock slapping his thigh.
Second…neither Bruce nor Felicia could react to that.
Bruce narrowed his eyes.
That vertical leap. That shoulder torque.
'Acrobatics. Strength. Freakishly fast reflexes. The sheer velocity of the spike. Definitely Spider-Man.'
"Our serve," Peter announced at the start of the next point.
'Who do we beat a man of his ability?'
Bam! He did a jump serve! Bruce hated that thwaping cock so fucking much. He was able to receive the ball perfectly with Felicia immediately following up. Selina attempted to block.
"Bad luck!"
But Felicia's misfortune powers kicked in and Selina failed to block the ball entirely.
"Team B's point," said Odessa.
Round two. Bruce served this time. It was good—tight spin, solid angle—but Peter practically teleported across the sand and popped it up casually.
"Nice try!" Peter said, flashing a perfect smile. He moved so fast that his cock hit his leg long after the receive. Thwap.
Selina set the ball and followed through with a precision spike. Bruce just barely managed to save it. Felicia tried to spiking it but…
"Too bad!"
Peter blocked her.
They were losing.
Bruce and Felicia tried their best. Felicia dove, she twisted, she even faked Selina out once, and sneaked a point. Bruce relied on his training—tracking movement, predicting patterns, studying Peter's every motion like it was a rooftop stakeout.
But it didn't matter.
Peter was superhuman with a super cock. Every time Peter lunged: Thwap. Every time Bruce blocked? Peter re-positioned mid-air and adjusted like it was nothing. They were up against each other again and BAM!
Bruce just didn't have the power to block him. He fell on the sand, lying on his back. Next thing he knew, he saw his girlfriend's pussy.
"Come on, Bruce!" Felicia yelled. "Don't let him beat you!"
His cock twitched. 'He's right. Just because he's stronger than me, faster than me, and has a bigger dick doesn't mean I'm out of options. You've gotten a handle on his skill type. He's trained but not like me. Use it. Control the rhythm.'
Bruce succeeded to some degree. Ultimately, it was impossible to overwhelm Peter when Selina was by his side. Like a she-devil, she whispered to Peter on his weaknesses and limits. In fact, halfway through, things switched around. It became Selina versus Bruce and Felicia versus Peter.
Match point arrived for Peter and Selina. They were too good. They quickly served. Felicia received and Bruce spiked. They had never played volleyball together. As peak, intelligent athletes, it didn't take long to coordinate.
Casually, Peter tapped the ball to Selina and she floated. That was the only way to describe it. She rose like a graceful missile, twisted mid-air, her curves defying gravity and reason.
Bruce moved to intercept. He could block it. He had to.
Selina's eyes locked on him.
She spiked it right between his legs. The ball brushed against his ballsack.
Game over.
Selina landed like a cat, blowing him a kiss. "Still got good aim."
Applause all around. Peter and Selina hugged and god he was jealous of the breasts cushioning against his chest.
Felicia kicked the sand and clicked her tongue. Selina smiled, winked at Felicia, and then the spectators. They enjoyed the attention, although there was an immediate understanding that there was no way they were taking this cheat. Her husband had the biggest, fattest cock on the beach—and it wasn't even hard.
Peter walked over and offered a hand to Bruce. "Good game, man!"
Bruce took it. Discreetly, the Batman eyed Spider-Man's giant, sweaty cock. Both cocks were face to face. Bruce was just so fucking small. He just paled in comparison. Neither his dick or balls jiggled or bounced or did anything affiliated by gravity. Whereas Peter…
Suddenly, everything clicked.
'So that's what interesting meant.'
***
The whole afternoon was spent with them. Every time Bruce even suggested parting ways, Felicia would always come up with excuses. Always.
Frankly, he understood what he saw in Peter. He was much like Dick, a bit of a jokester with a heart of gold. Batman and Spider-Man never crossed paths yet every hero Batman encountered said the same thing; he was the best of them. Like Batman himself was.
In that sense, Bruce respected him and accepted Selina's love for him. He wouldn't mistreat her, that much Bruce could confirm.
Although threatening him at all as an ex-boyfriend seemed pathetic given their gifts. Hell, speaking over him felt pathetic. This dude's dick dwarfed him like he was a child.
"Wanna go surfing while the ladies chill?"
What was Bruce supposed to say? Staying with Felicia and Selina was a loser move. Going with Peter also felt like a beta cuck move. Both options struck his male ego hard.
In the end, he decided he liked Peter more than he wanted to have his dick mocked by Selina. In front of Peter, she was sweet. Without him…
He had never gone surfing so quickly.
It wasn't supposed to be a contest.
But it absolutely was.
Bruce paddled into position with practiced ease. He was stronger — visibly, obviously — cutting through the water with long, efficient strokes. Every movement of his body was calculated, purposeful. He popped up cleanly when the wave crested, stance wide, knees bent with near-military discipline.
Back on the beach, people would've seen a perfectly sculpted billionaire riding a wall of water like a pro. But out here?
Out here, Peter Parker and his huge cock were king.
"Nice wave, Bruce!" Peter called from behind, before springing effortlessly onto his own board.
Bruce glanced back just in time to watch Peter spin into a drop, twist into a cutback, and ride the wave with the smoothness of a man who had clearly spent an entire second life catching aerials when he wasn't fighting lizard-men.
He didn't even wobble.
"Where'd you learn that?" he muttered when they met again in the lull.
"Oh, y'know," Peter shrugged, slicking back his wet hair. "Queens. Spent a summer on Coney Island trying not to get flattened. Built character."
Bruce nodded. "Right."
Even out here, in the chilly ocean, Peter's super cock flipped-flopped like an overly confident dolphin. Bruce glanced down. So far, his cock had resisted the cold. It stayed at a meek two inches.
And it wasn't just the schlong. It was the balls too. Like Peter Parker had two baseballs set in his sack.
Bruce looked away.
He focused on the waves. On the wind. On winning.
Another swell rolled in, and Bruce caught it like a storm-chaser. He owned it. Rode it all the way to the sand. Perfect form. Power. Control. He looked good. He looked great.
But then Peter followed — surfing backwards.
Backwards.
And waved.
Bruce growled under his breath.
Bruce and Peter paddled back toward shore. Surfboards underarm, they walked out of the ocean like they were emerging from a cologne commercial—saltwater dripping down sculpted torsos, muscles flexing, wind just dramatic enough to make it all look intentional.
On the sand, Felicia and Selina were lounging like beach goddesses, sunglasses perched low on their noses as they watched the two men approach. Odessa and Tamara were also paired together but on another set of towels and umbrella.
Felicia nudged Selina with her elbow. "Not bad, huh?"
Selina smirked. "Better than bad. I'm appreciating this part of vacation."
Bruce, for a moment, felt something he hadn't felt in a while—cool. The water had been freezing, but the adrenaline of catching a few waves, plus Felicia's approving glance, had him walking tall. Right beside him, Peter gave the ladies a friendly grin.
Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!
Felicia's eye drifted away from Bruce. Selina's fingers traced her pussy.
Then the breeze hit.
Then the reality hit.
And Bruce… looked down.
Oh no.
The cold water. The very cold water. It had shrunk his manhood into a tactical retreat. What once was mild confidence was now objectively shame.
Peter, on the other hand?
Peter's cock slapped against his thighs in ways Bruce now deeply resented.
Bruce subtly tried to turn toward Felicia—shielding himself just a little from Selina—before he realized: there was no shielding from this.
Two local Caribbean beauties walking by giggled. One whispered, "Oh my god, look at that foreigner," before promptly bursting into laughter.
A third woman in a sunhat walked past. She wore a ring finger. Married. She whistled at Peter and clicked her tongue at Bruce. One impressive, one not.
Bruce, cheeks twitching, tried to cover his wet, tiny penis in the subtlest way possible.
Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!
Fuck. Fuccck. Why the fuck did Peter have to have that kind of baseball dick?
"Have fun, boys?"
Selina and Peter kissed and hugged. It was never the kisses or hugs that caused Bruce's male instincts to flareup but that ten inch monster schlong pressing up on her. Selina was such a babe.
"You know I did. Bruce wasn't bad buuut I think I was better."
The hugging couple turned toward him. Bruce almost felt like they were mocking him. Selina, the one that got away. Peter, the one that took her away. Standing proudly of their own bodies. Perky pink tits and an enormous elephant meat. Short black hair and lips that only wished to kiss her husband's cheek and suck his dick.
"Is that true, Bruce?"
"... Peter is something, alright."
Bruce stood there, tiny dick shrinking further. Only the cockhead remained. A numb.
Felicia, to her credit, didn't say anything. But her lips were doing that little twitch they did when she was dying not to laugh. Odessa and Tamara were looking and could afford to laugh openly with their distance.
Selina? Oh, Selina grinned.
"Rough waves, Bruce?" she asked innocently.
Bruce exhaled slowly through his nose. "Water was cold."
"Mm-hmm."
Peter, still smiling, toweled off casually. "It happens to the best of us. Even I get the shivers."
More giggles echoed from nearby beachgoers.
He was Gotham's Dark Knight. He fought alien gods. He invented half of his crime-fighting gadgets. And now he was trying to out-surf Spider-Man with shrinkage in broad daylight.
He decided to cup himself. Hopefully get some heat and maybe if the gods were kind some more cock too.
***
They were able to leave Odessa and Tamara behind. Finally. Bruce was glad that the wealthy woman was left behind.
What was left wasn't that much better though.
Walking alongside the couple that was Spider-Cat was impossible. If it was Bruce and Felicia alone, nobody would be making remarks on Bruce's inferior dick.
"Look at that tiny white dick."
"Look at that big white dick."
Thwap, thwap!
But with Peter and Selina? Impossible. They were in a specifically made nude town in the Carribeans. Foreigners all over the world walked here. Fit locals who expected only the best.
"So, Bruce," Selina started coyly, "when did you and Felicia meet?"
Felicia giggled. She didn't want to answer.
"At a party."
"Same with me then!"
Felicia had a curious look in her eye. "Wait, did you two date or…"
Selina put a finger to her lips. "My secret."
Everybody here had secrets. Selina Kyle was Catwoman. Felicia Hardy was Black Cat. Peter Parker was Spider-Man.
Bruce Wayne had the greatest secret: being Batman. If it was even rumoured Batman had a tiny dick, criminals would no longer fear him. Simple at that.
"My secret is falling in love with you." Peter smacked her ass and Selina's eyes went wide, before laughing.
She went on her toes and whispered something in his ear. Peter's cock twitched. Everyone could sense the shift as they suddenly stopped.
"We'll, uh, be heading into the bar. See ya."
In a hurry, the couple did a one-eighty and entered the open bar they went past. Bruce and Felicia, left in the dust.
"Your ex is…" Bruce trailed off.
"Peter is something, isn't he?" A whimsical smile she had on her face. Like she missed him. Bruce's heart twisted. Did she miss him or his cock? "Heh, I bet he's screwing that bitch silly."
"As if. This is a nude beach, not a sex beach."
Felicia had that face. "Ehhh."
"Felicia?"
"I mean, the last time we came here, he and I sort-of, kinda…screwed around. In a lot of places."
That mental image of Peter drilling his giant cock inside her over and over again, getting her expression to twist like he never had…
"You're pulling my leg." Bruce crossed his arms. Felicia made that smiling face again.
"Wanna bet?"
They backtracked and followed where Selina and Peter had gone. Bruce didn't know what to expect. It was what? Ten seconds? Sure, they were flirting but they weren't going to go right for fucking, were they—
"Mmmmph! Peter…!"
Oh fuck.
When Bruce and Felicia peaked in, Peter had Bruce's ex-fiancee in his arms, lifting her effortlessly onto the table. The glasses and bottles clattered, but neither of them cared. The other patrons turned to watch, some in surprise, others in amusement, but Peter and Selina were in their own world.
Kissing and making out and exchanging saliva. Their tongues were envirogated by passion and spilling wet.
Slowly, Peter's cock hardened. It was like an unravelling, fighting off gravity and rising. Lifting off his hefty sack to stand on its own. A mighty white pipe that earned gasps from the locals.
Nobody stopped them. Why would they? Just look at them. Look at that giant fucking cock. Carribean or not, black or white, it was hot.
"Legs on my shoulders."
Selina obeyed without hesitation, her legs parting wide as she draped them over his shoulders. Peter's hands gripped her hips and he slapped his cock on her dripping pussy.
Good lord.
"How is that even going to fit?" Bruce didn't intend this to be heard. He didn't expect or want anyone to answer.
"Trust me, it fits."
His girlfriend did anyway. Felicia said it without thinking, eyes wide, memories rushing back into her pussy.
"You're so fucking wet." Whap, whap, whap! He slapped that fat 2L bottle of a cock. Selina giggled.
"Peter, please…"
That smile. That smirk. Bruce remembered it. Except for this evening, it was meant for her husband. For the man she chose after him.
Bruce's penis decided to react. It decided to harden.
It was too late.
Peter's full fourteen inch erection hovered above her pussy and tapped at her navel. A human weapon far beyond anything Bruce could muster. Quite literally triple his size in length and girth, it was a bonafide superhuman cock.
Again, Bruce was thinking, 'How is that going to fit?'
What a stupid question. What a late question. They were married. Of course it was going to fit.
With one thrust, his massive, fourteen-inch cock disappeared inside Selina. Bruce's dick twitched. A four inch erection. Felicia didn't even notice. She didn't care. She was transfixed as was Bruce.
His ex.
His Catwoman.
The Cat and the Bat—
"Oh, God, Peter!" she screamed, her voice echoing across the bar. "You feel so fucking good!"
All gone. All shattered. All because of this broke boy's massive dick. All because he could make Selina orgasm instantly. Bruce knew her tells. Selina was orgasming. After one thrust.
'Do you know how long it took me to get her to orgasm for the first time!?'
The answer was seven months and three days after they first had sex. A total of twenty nights spent on the rooftop. Year One Batman wasn't the playbox, sex symbol he was now. No, he was a bit more clumsy, having spent everything he knew on martial artists, university, and detective work.
But this fucker?
"Oh god, oh god, oh god—!"
Each thrust was an orgasm. Each thrust was worth that seven months Bruce spent. To Spider-Man, making Selina orgasm was as easy as breathing. To Batman, it was the toughest task of his life.
Peter's hips moved like a piston, each stroke deep, never pounding into her inconsistently and just streeeetching her out. She gasped and her breasts bounced with each thrust. Her moans were loud and unrestrained and her smile was wide and joyous. It was like Christmas. It was like heaven.
"Oh god! Oh fuuuck! This big fucking cock! I love it! I just LOVE it~! Mmmpph~! Nggghhh!" Selina suddenly grinned. "You're not even trying, are you, you stud?"
No grip on the legs resting on his shoulder. Both hands on his hips. Smiling oh-so casually.
Bruce's cock drooled in jealousy. Like seriously, he wasn't even trying!? He was putting in more inches that Bruce ever had or ever will. He had made her orgasm twenty times in thirty fucking seconds, more than Bruce EVER had in decades, and yet…
Peter Parker wasn't trying!?
"Sorry, sorry." Peter glanced at the spectators. "There's people watching. Don't want you to sound like a whore."
"Peter Parker." Selina sat up straight and cupped his cheek. "I'm your whore. No amount of peeping dicklets is going to change that, babe."
"Aw, come on, don't call them dicklets."
"What's the word then? Simps?"
"Your age is showing. That's not how you use that word."
Age. Was it age? Peter was what—twenty-eight years old? Bruce himself was forty-eight. He had a kid and everything. He was late into his career. Selina was ten years his junior, a buxom thirty-eight year old woman. The gap between Bruce and Selina was the same as the gap between Peter and Selina.
He pulled out eight inches. Selina shuddered. Casually, he could insert and take out twice what Batman gave her.
"J-Jesus!"
"Wrong name," he said cheekily. "It's Peter. Saint Peter."
"N-n-not funny!" Her breasts heaved, albeit a giggle left her. "Okay, a little funny."
A thumb softly circled her nipples. Pink, they were simply perfect on her D-cups. Quietly, Bruce realized that had gotten slightly bigger. Not as big as Felicia's DD's but her tits were youthful. Selina looked like she had aged back ten years.
Hands gripping the tower, the married couple leaned into a kiss. A romantic, peaceful kiss that earned jealousy. Selina wasn't just a bunch of hot stuff, she was romantic stuff too.
Wham!
Selina ripped away from the kiss, head thrown back. "P-Peter…!"
"You're so incredibly sexy, Selina."
Wham! Another deep thrust. Another orgasm. Intentionally dragging it out, he pulled his cock back inch by inch and Bruce could visibly see Selina's cunt stretch around that fist-like girth.
"This cock! This cockkk! Oh this cock makes me feel SO fucking special!" He was picking up the pace. Selina stared into Peter's eyes, gasping and whimpering. She was trying to keep herself steady. She was trying to remain as the proud, sultry Catwoman.
"I…I…I…!!"
"Aw, come on, spit out it, babe."
Fucking her even harder, Selina could barely speak. Her speech was accompanied by spit and rolled back. "I've never been fucked like this before!"
"Never?"
Throb.
"NEVERRRR~!"
The peeping Bruce Wayne watched in stunned silence, his erection forgotten. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Selina, her face twisted in ecstasy, her lips parted wide open, her body moving in ways he had never been able to make it move.
"Once Peter gets going like this, he never stops."
That was Felicia. Oh fuck, he almost forgot she was right under him, watching her ex plow his ex. Regret was washing over both of them. For Bruce, Selina's pussy was permanently ruined. For Felicia, well…
"Oh god, oh goddd! You're going to make me pass out with pleasure! I just wanna be your sex slut! Your fucking slut! YOUR WHORREEE~!"
A discreet glance at Bruce's little dick. Yeah, there was no comparison. Felicia fucking downgraded.
"Why did we break up again?"
The white-haired thief didn't say the remark out loud. The detective wasn't stupid though. It was obvious. And her answer was obvious too: "It was a mistake."
- FULL PART ON PATREON -