It wasn't often that he delivered pizzas to locations other than houses and apartments. Their pizza place wasn't exactly for rich people. It was strictly working class.
Which was why being sent to a local art gallery meant he wasn't delivering for a charity or for a party or something along those lines. It was because a security guard wanted to eat late at night. It was almost one o'clock.
The pizza guy sighed.
The Gotham rain fell in a constant, dull hiss, slicking the pavement and reflecting the neon signs in oily rainbows. He juggled the pizza bag, the thermal fabric doing little to fight the chill seeping into his bones. The townhouse art gallery had its grand doors locked tight.
This wasn't a huge museum like the Gotham Museum of Antiquities. They were near each other, but this was a rather simple art gallery. Or was it a history gallery? He didn't know. It was a townhouse art gallery, smaller in scope and neighboured with food shops. The whole street was perfect for dates.
His job, however, was to knock on the front doors and wait. Unfortunately, nobody responded. He looked at the security camera. He waved.
"He told me once he saw me, he'd buzz me open."
The pizza guy would not have minded sticking around to wait if not for the fact that it was raining like hell. Grunting, he fumbled with his phone, the screen blurry with droplets. Tap. Tap. The number for the security guard rang once, twice.
A groggy voice answered. "'Lo?"
"Hey, man, I'm out front with your pizza. The main doors are—"
The line dissolved into a harsh, digital zzzt-crackle and died. "Hello? Shit." Service cut out. Of course. Fucking Gotham City. The mobile lines were plain ass. He had another delivery across town, some high-rise apartment that probably had a decent tip waiting. This was a waste of time in comparison.
But he had to deliver.
He waited and waited and the doors did not open. "Ugh, that security did sound sleepy when he first called…"
Muttering a curse into his damp collar, he decided to try the alley. There had to be a back area, right? He rounded the corner, the city's noise fading behind him, replaced by the drip-drip-drip of water from a rusty fire escape.
He saw a door and window reserved for employees. The window was open. The door was locked. "Well…" Sighing, the pizza guy decided to do some lawbreaking and hop through. A minor challenge considering the pizza he was carrying, but a challenge worth undergoing for his money.
He was in the museum. He took some steps. The gallery was mostly dark, save for a beam of red at the far left. He glanced over on instinct.
"Phew! Job well done, Cat—"
As always, even looking was problematic for him. The woman that was humming and speaking to herself, who was coincidentally heading in the pizza guy's direction, was a female figure curved erotically, poured into a suit so black it seemed to drink the light around it. The woman didn't need to show her face to prove she was sexy. Her body was snatched to a tee. Her body was hourglass in ways only one woman in Gotham could possibly be.
'T-t-that's Catwoman…! Holy shit!'
She wore a spherical helmet with feline ears. It was the one thing that was rather unique about her. Proper imagery of Catwoman did not exist on the internet, only blurred security camera recordings from five years ago. All that the ordinary people of Gotham knew about her was that she was affiliated with Batman.
Catwoman was holding a jeweled pendant. The red light that once stole the pizza guy's attention was a laser grid. She managed to reveal the secret lasers and steal the jeweled pendant from its cage.
It would have been a perfect theft, if not for the pizza guy's arrival.
They froze. The world compressed into that silent art gallery. The only sound was the distant whump-whump of a police helicopter. Just typical Gotham City.
His brain short-circuited. The pizza bag slipped in his grip. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, his eyes locked on the gleaming metal claws extending from her gloves. "I'm just here to deliver to the security guard."
He couldn't see her image but he imaged a smirk was playing on her full lips. "Sorry, darling, he's asleep." She tilted her globe head. "And I don't mean that in a threatening sense, the guard fell asleep at the counter. Poor guy. Must have been overworked."
Catwoman placed the pendant into a pouch on her thigh, then began to strut toward him. Every step was a study in controlled power. Her hips swayed. He was rooted to the spot, a statue holding a cheap dinner.
This Catwoman…she felt and looked different. She circled him slowly, a predator assessing strange prey.
"So," Catwoman purred, her voice a low, thrilling vibration. "You just… sneak into closed galleries often? A new hobby?"
"N-no. I was on a call and…." His voice was a dry croak. "Well, I have another delivery coming, so I had to rush, and, so, err, I had to sneak inside..."
She sniffed the air. It was definitely pizza. Meaning, he wasn't lying. At least that was what he hoped she was thinking.
'It's Catwoman, right? She's...she's smart. She doesn't kill people for interrupting her thefts, right? Right?'
There was panic and worry, but also...he couldn't help but look her up and down. Good god, her hips went wide. That costume of hers was hot without meaning to be. It was professional, yet hot.
"Mm. A man with responsibilities. I admire that." She completed her circle, stopping directly in front of him. She reached out, and a single, claw-tipped finger—shink—traced a line down his chest. He flinched. "You should probably go deliver it then. Forget you ever saw little old me."
He nodded, a jerky, desperate motion. "Yeah. Yes. Absolutely."
"Ah, but…" One step forward and the globe's head whispered, "Insurance."
Before he could process the word, she spun behind him. The pizza guy could only go wide-eyed and tell himself, 'B-boobs!' Her boobs pressed against his back. He could feel the hard outline of her utility belt against his lower back.
"In the modern world, nudes are what make the world run," Catwoman murmured, and there was a loud schink! He suspected the bottom half of her globe helmet went up because he could taste and feel her lips brushing his earlobe. "Isn't that right? And wouldn't you know that this little snow globe of mine can take pictures. Very nice pictures~"
"W-what?"
"I'm saying I'm going to blackmail you to keep you quiet. Does that make sense? Men tend to be VERY ashamed of their penises."
Frankly…it hardly surprised him. At this point, the pizza guy resigned himself to his fate of sex-filled circumstances.
Her hands were at his waist. A sharp tug, and the prong of his belt gave way with a metallic clink. He shut his eyes tight, his heart hammering against his ribs. How the hell did this happen every time? Tonight, he was in a damp alley, holding a pepperoni pizza, pantsed by Catwoman.
She unzipped him and tugged his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. He squeezed his eyes tighter. His cock bounced out.
"Mmm, now let's have a looksie~!"
Catwoman was looking over her shoulder. She was smirking arrogantly. She thought she was completely in control, until she glanced at what he was hanging between his legs.
Cue the sharp, startled intake of breath.
"Oh."
The sound was so small, so utterly disarmed, that his eyes flew open.
Catwoman was staring down his shoulder, her predatory confidence completely shattered. Her famously unflappable composure was gone, replaced by wide-eyed, genuine astonishment. Her lips were parted.
"Oh my god."
Her gaze was locked below his waist. He followed it, a dull heat rising to his face. He…half-expected it considering his life. He was… gifted. Exceptionally so. Even soft, resting heavily against his thigh, he was a solid eight inches and thick. The kind of size that was the stuff of locker room legends and dubious online claims. His balls, heavy and full, rested beneath.
"Y-you…you're just…a pizza…this world…huh…h-how…"
The pizza guy was mildly confused by her stammer. This world? What did she mean?
What it meant was that this was not the Catwoman of his Earth. This was Absolute Catwoman. This Catwoman had stolen the gems throughout the world and was the femme fatale who fell in love with a different kind of Batman. Bigger and badder. Yet it didn't matter.
Catwoman was staring at a pizza delivery guy's dick as if he'd just pulled the Hope Diamond out of his fly.
Her mind, usually a whirlwind of escape routes and witty retorts, went utterly, completely blank. She'd seen Batman. Absolute Batman. A mountain of a man, 6'9", 421 pounds of brutal, terrifying power. A god in a cape. And what he had was proportional. Impressive, certainly, eight inches long and can-like in shape. Yes, so very impressive.
But this…
This was bigger. This was a work of art on a nobody. A fucking masterpiece in a discount frame. It was like finding a Renaissance painting in a thrift store. It shouldn't be here. It didn't belong to him. It was longer than Batman and thicker than Batman, and…more perfect than Batman. It utterly eclipsed any memory, any comparison.
Absolute Catwoman finally managed to speak, her voice a breathless, shaky thing he'd never thought her capable of.
"L-looks like a nude won't be enough, huh?"
"Uhh…"
The pizza guy knew where this was going. He witnessed as the infamous Catwoman, the terror of Gotham's elite, circled around him, her claws running along his waist until they were face to face. He could see her rouge lips and her brown complexion. She was eye-to-eye with him. Tall for a woman.
Yet this Absolute Catwoman sank to her knees. The movement was not one of defeat, but of reverence. Her helmet retracted with a soft, pneumatic hiss, folding away to store itself at the nape of her neck.
There she was, Selina Kyle.
Her hair was curly and textured and hung a little below her shoulders. Nothing too long and yet everything that was beautiful. Her skin was a beautiful, warm bronze. Her dark, elegantly arched eyebrows and the long, sooty lashes framed eyes wide with awe. Her face was a perfect, heart-shaped canvas of high cheekbones and a full, parted mouth that seemed to be struggling to remember how to form words. She was, without a single doubt, the most stunning Brazilian woman he had ever seen.
"So this is what I have to deal with, hm? My first test in this world…" Her gaze never left his cock. As if hypnotized, one gloved hand rose. The sharp metal claws retracted with a series of tiny shinks, leaving only sleek black leather. Her surprisingly delicate fingers wrapped around his shaft.
He gasped. Fuck. That grip alone…this woman was experienced and knew what she was doing. Then came the first stroke. A single, slow, upward stroke.
He throbbed. His cock loved it.
It was an unstoppable force, a biological inevitability under the spell of her touch and her stunned, hungry eyes. He swelled in her hand, thickening, lengthening, the veins becoming prominent ropes under his skin. He watched, mesmerized, as what she had deemed a masterpiece at rest became a fucking monument. It reached its full, dizzying height, a solid, throbbing twelve inches of hard, aching flesh, jutting out from his body like a weapon of mass seduction.
Selina's breath hitched. "Meu Deus….!"
Naturally, Catwoman could only conjure one comparison. Bruce Wayne. Her Batman. . Absolute Batman. A man built like a cathedral. And what he had… it was fine. A respectable, proportional eight inches. It got the job done.
She had to do it. She compared his cock to her arm. Side by side, it set the new kind of reality she was in. This was not her world anymore.
This…this was the cock of a new world. This was a demolition. This was a crowbar to the foundations of her reality. This was a fucking natural disaster in jeans. The pizza guy's cock wasn't just longer; it was obscenely thicker, a hefty, veined weight that made her mouth water and her core clench with a sudden, desperate ache. His balls, too—a heavy, generous pair of orbs that put Bruce's to utter shame, resting in a tight, full sack that promised a devastating payload.
'The nudes,' a distant, professional part of her brain whispered. 'The insurance.'
She laughed, a low, husky sound that vibrated through his cock and straight into his soul. "Fuck that," she purred, her voice dripping with newfound, filthy purpose. "A picture wouldn't do this justice. Nobody would ever believe it. But a video… a recording… now that's insurance."
Her arm removed itself from his hog.
She licked her lips, her pink tongue dragging slowly across the plush surface of the mushroom head. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. They were dark with lust. "I'm going to suck your fucking dick, delivery boy. And you're going to let me. Aren't you?"
He could only nod, a strangled sound catching in his throat. Yes. God, yes.
That was all the permission she needed. She leaned forward, and her mouth, those incredible lips, descended upon him.
The kiss was instantaneous and overwhelming and merged smoothly with her taking his cock down. Her mouth was a wet, silken heat that made his knees buckle. She took the first few inches with ease, her mouth forming a perfect, tight seal. But she wasn't stopping there. This was Absolute Catwoman. A master thief from the streets. She took what she wanted.
She pushed forward, swallowing him down with a practiced, breathtaking expertise that stole the air from his lungs. How many inches was she taking? Five, six, seven, eight…
Sluuuurp!
'S-so much girthier than Bruce's—!'
Her eyes flicked up. They looked fierce. His tip hit the back of her throat and she didn't even gag. She pressed further, her nose aiming to hit his pubic area. She was going to deep-throat his entire, monstrous length if it was the last thing she did.
"Hnnngh!"
Nine inches were down. Fuck, the girth made such a fucking difference. She practiced on Bruce's eight inches till she could down it in one smooth motion. But not this thing. She locked her hands behind her. She was a connoisseur, and she had just found the vintage of a lifetime.
She was stuck at ten inches though.
So what?
She began to move, establishing a ruthless, perfect rhythm. Up and down. Sluuuurp, shluck! Her head bobbed with a hypnotic speed, her throat working around him with every descent. Her textured hair and her green fierce eyes…!
"Nnggh! Oh god, Catwoman…!"
She showed her face, all because of his cock. She got down to her knees and sucked him off, all because of his cock.
All because of this size she couldn't take. All because she knew she had to please it. For the challenge. For herself.
"Mmmppph~!!"
Her eyes rolled back. Her finger wound up pressed down on her cunt through her suit. Oh fuuuck, she couldn't wait for when this fat cock stretched her latina pussy…!
Her throat tightened and the pizza guy was lost. His head fell back against a wall. He hadn't realized he had been walking and Selina had been chasing him like a cat. Keeping his cock down her throat, bulging like his cock mattered more than life. His fingers tangled in her curly hair, not to guide her, but to hold on for dear life as she devoured him. Catwoman was stealing his mind, his resolve, his very soul with that godly mouth.
"Fuck, your mouth… so good… so fucking good," he rasped, the words barely coherent.
She increased her pace, a woman possessed. Slurp-slurp-slurp! She was a machine built for this single purpose, her every skill as a thief—the precision, the dedication, the pursuit of a prize—channeled into sucking his goddamn brains out through his cock.
He could feel the pressure building, a taut, coiling spring deep in his nutsack. It was happening too fast, but there was no stopping it. Not with her expert tongue swirling around his head, not with the greedy, hungry sounds she was making. Splurt! A preemptive jet of precum hit her throat and she moaned around him, the vibration pushing him right over the edge.
"I'm—I'm gonna cum!"
This might have been up there as among the greatest blowjobs ever…! Arms locked behind her, eyes either closed in concentration or looking at him…!
Fuck, there was nothing she lacked.
Selina's green eyes, hazy with lust, flew open. She didn't pull off. If anything, she doubled down, taking him deeper, her throat fluttering wildly around him. Almost there, almost there…!
'Yes. Give it to me. I want to swallow every fucking drop of this nobody's perfect fucking cum—!'
Only one last inch remained. She couldn't take it, unfortunately, and that was when the thick viscous ropes of seed shot violently into her mouth. Spurt, spurt, spuuurt! Splurt! It was more than she expected. So much more. It was thicker, more voluminous, and far more aggressive than Absolute Batman's ever was. It flooded her mouth, overwhelming her, the sheer force and quantity of it short-circuiting her legendary control.
Catwoman gagged, her eyes widening in shock. She tried to swallow, but it was a nigh-impossible tide. His cum burst past her lips, splattering across her cheek. Another powerful jet hit her directly on the chin, then her nose, and then the boobs of her costume.
She pulled back, gasping, but it was too late. The final, triumphant pulses of his release painted stripes of pearly white across her beautiful, stunned brown face. She swallowed most of it, but like with his cock, not ALL of it.
It was done. She knelt there, in an empty art gallery, his cum dripping from her chin onto her pristine black suit. The master thief. The unparalleled seductress.
Catwoman had been facialed.
She touched her gloved fingers to her cheek, staring at the thick, opaque fluid there in disbelief.
"You… you…"
Thwack!
As if to tell her to shut up, his cock roared and smacked up her chin. The pizza guy would have apologized if not for the fact that he was reeling from everything. He sighed, looked down, and only saw her wide-eyes and his own erection. Both were sights that he expected.
But Catwoman?
"Don't you go soft…?" She swallowed. Clearly not. She heaved and breathed and smirked. "There's no waiting, is there?" Her voice was raw, stripped of its playful purr, replaced by a guttural need that brooked no argument. "I need you to fuck me."
Still dripping his cum, she sprung to her feet and pressed her index and middle finger to her wrist. The glossy material of her suit split open at the seam running up the back of her legs and over the phenomenal curve of her ass—and woah! The color of a dark honey Brazilian ass bounced out. The bounce earned a drop of pre-cum too. Catwoman snickered and peeled the suit down to her knees.
"No matter the cock, the reactions are the same!" Catwoman licked her lips. "Although clearly, you have much more to offer than the bat I'm used to~!"
Pride swelled inside him. Was she really telling him he was bigger than Batman? A-and that he had more cum to offer? Fuck, that felt awesome! He was a lowly Gotham citizen and Batman was, well, Batman!
She walked forward, bent over and bracing her clawed hands against the cube holding up a fancy jar. Beside there, there was an assigned value informing guests that the jar was worth five hundred thousand.
Neither she nor the pizza guy cared.
Catwoman's Brazilian pussy was bare, glistening, an invitation and a demand all at once. The most intimate part of the legendary Catwoman, exposed and offered to him. To some random pizza guy she wanted to blackmail and now just wanted to fuck.
He was on her in an instant. His hands, still trembling from his first orgasm, gripped her hips. The round flesh of her ass was different from any other woman he had felt. It was super soft. Just holding it caused jiggles. Understanding that this was Catwoman was a drug. The pizza guy didn't know that she was from another world. All he knew was that this was maybe Batman's girl and that she wanted to fuck him.
He positioned himself, the swollen, dripping head of his cock nestling against her soaked entrance. He could feel her heat, a furnace beckoning him in.
"Do it," Absolute Catwoman hissed, smirking. "Fucking ruin me."
He thrust.
It wasn't gentle. It couldn't be. The sheer, impossible girth of him stretched her open in a way that was bordering on violent. Schllllllck! A wet, yielding, impossibly tight sound as her Latina cunt was forced to accommodate him. Selina's back arched, the kind of arch etched into her posture. Her eyes, wide and unseeing, stared at the white jar. She could see the smallest of details, from the tiny black dots to the U-shape to the subtle grey that gleamed with the light.
Yes, no doubt, this jar was worth five-hundred thousand considering the clear sophistication of its structure. But this jar was worth five hundred thousand then—
"YOU'RESODEEPYOU'RESODEEP—"
Then the pizza guy's cock was worth five billion.
"I'MCUMMIIIING!! I'MCUMMINGI'MCUMMIIIING!! CUMMING, CUMMIIING! CUMMING FROM THIS RANDOM DIIIICKKK~!!"
He was balls-deep. He went all the way in. So when he pulled back, a new sensation detonated.
Another two climaxes tore through her without warning. It wasn't a wave; it was a car crash. Catwoman's pussy clenched around his invading shaft in a brutal, rhythmic spasm.
The pizza guy tilted his head, stunned by the violent reaction, by the intense, milking pressure suddenly gripping his cock. "H-hey, are you—?" He had only pulled out four inches back and yet…
She looked like, well…
"DON'T YOU DARE STOP!" she screamed, the words slurred and desperate. "MOVE! FUCK ME HARDER!"
…like Batman had never fucked her or something. It was rather confusing to him.
He pulled back, the shlllp of his withdrawal almost as lewd as the entry, and plunged back into her depths. CLAP—! Her body jolted forward with the force.
Another orgasm. This one was a shriek. "GAAAAH!"
His monstrous length destroyed her pussy. Ruined any chances of Absolute Batman from ever fucking her.
"THIS DIIICK! THIS DIIICK! I CAN'T BELIIIEVE IT! MAKING ME CUM! MAKING ME CUUUM~! MAKINGMECUMMM~!!"
The sound of his pelvis and balls meeting her latina ass was loud and wet. A rhythmic percussion underscored by her ragged, escalating cries. Her famous composure was ashes. Catwoman was just an animal in heat, addicted to sex and nothing more.
"Wow, your ass…!" Her ass cheeks, full and round, clapped against his pelvis with every drive. He stopped, if only a moment, to appreciate it and watch it jiggle.
Then a hand came down to make it jiggle again.
"CUMMIIIIING~!!"
Then slam! His balls were snug against that Latina brown ass again. Remember stealth? Remember the tenants of being a thief? Selina didn't. She was being taken, claimed, and the entire city could hear it.
Her mind, what was left of it, shattered into a single, repeating mantra. "You're so much bigger than Bruce, you'resomuchbiggerthanBruce, you'resomuch—" The words tumbled out between shattered moans and gasped pleas, a continuous, worshipful litany.
The pizza guy had no idea who Bruce was, and he didn't care. He just fucked her harder, better, driving her insane with a cock that was rewriting her entire sexual history. Each piston-like thrust battered a spot deep inside her that Bruce had never even grazed. Fifteen thrusts? It felt like a hundred. Her body was no longer her own; it was just a vessel for an endless, rolling earthquake of pleasure. Her eyes, her expertly applied mascara now a ruined, black smear down her cheeks, rolled back into her head. Her tongue, once so clever and biting, lolled out of her mouth, dripping saliva onto the floor below.
Why hold back too? Her Brazilian booty was built different and jiggling differently. So soft.
The more he fucked, the more she came and creamed around him. And how was the cream? God, the cream. It was a semi-transparent white froth that gathered around the base of his shaft with every plunge. Squick! Squelch! It coated his balls, it dripped down her inner thighs, a messy, undeniable testament to how thoroughly she was being fucked senseless.
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
"Mmmpppph!! MMPPPPPHJHH~!!!"
'This random ass pizza guy…!' The thought was a ghost, a fading echo of a rationality long since abandoned. 'I-it DOESN'T make SENSE! HOW COULD BRUCE NOT FUCK ME LIKE THIS—!?'
But it was her reality. It was the only reality. The reality of being utterly, completely, and devastatingly outperformed.
He could feel his own end approaching. His cock roared in the tight, screaming heat of her.
"G-g-g-gonna cum! Gonna CUM!? I know you are! I KNOOOW~!!" Selina sounded fucking crazy and he loved it. She swung her head back, gasping and moaning and loving that he was still dicking her down.
He didn't stop. He just kept fucking and throbbing. Drool fell from the corner of her lips.
"YES! FUCKING FILL ME UP! DO IT!" she shrieked, her voice breaking, pushing her ass back onto him, taking him as deep as she possibly could. "THIS PUSSY IS YOURS!"
This pussy was indeed his. The pizza guy slammed home and went from a renting to owning. Spluuuurt! The first jet was a volcanic eruption, pumping a massive, hot load directly into her womb. Splurt, spurt, spurt! Spluuurt! Rope after rope followed, painting her insides white, a flood of cum so voluminous it immediately began to overflow.
While he creampied her, her head still hung back. Still stared at him. Still gasped and shuddered and showed him her expression. The woman was so flexible and hot and intense that she even grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss.
Pumping cum doggy-style while kissing the man responsible for that. That was the kind of arch, the kind of experience only Catwoman could give.
The pizza guy held himself there, pulsing, emptying every last drop into the great Catwoman while kissing her.
"Mmmpph…." Her lips left his and they stared at one another. Selina smiled. "You're a good kisser~"
Selina's head drunkenly hung forward. Blinking, half-concerned, the pizza guy finally pulled out with a wet, exhausted shluck.
The effect was immediate.
Globular streams of pearly white, yogurt-like cum gushed out of her well-used pussy, coursing down her thighs. Drip… glug…! She didn't move. She couldn't. Her muscles gave out completely. With a soft, boneless sigh, Selina Kyle, the master thief, simply folded and passed out, collapsing in a heap in front of a cube table holding up a jar, her ruined, leaking pussy presented to the pizza guy and pizza guy alone.
He might have been honoured, if not for the fact that he still had to deliver tonight.