Gotham City. By day a teeming metropolis, full of life and bustle. Its streets lined with humble shops and
thriving businesses, all doing an honest day's commerce. But at night . . .
The darkness of the witching hour engulfs the urban landscape in a monolithic shadow. Even the most illustrious shops are fair game to the dregs of humanity. Such is the case with the upper-class Percival Penache's Pet Shop.
Through the darkened labyrinth of scratching posts, birdhouses, rubber chew-toys, and animals that lay sleeping in their cages, slinks a curvaceous but sinister shilloette. And an outstretched talon reaches towards the solid gold latch on a kennel filled with priceless Siberian kittens.
The following morning finds the shapely, svelte figure of Batgirl in the office of
Police Commissioner James Gordon, along side Chief O'Hara, contemplating the theft of the previous night.
"Those kittens were worth at least $15,000 a piece, Batgirl!" said Gordon. "Mr. Penache has to consider going out of business. Even with his insurance he can't weather such a loss."
"Sure an' begorrah," chimed in the police chief. "It's a crime when a honest man's driven out of his life's work by thieves and ner'do - wells. And I'd bet my badge it's that darn Catwoman behind this. It has her dirty pawprints all over it."
"A crime it is Chief O'Hara," chirped the plucky crime-fightress. "One I plan to solve!"
"Batman asked me to express his gratitude for your helping with his overloaded case log," offered Gordon. " He called me this morning from Japan. He's almost wrapped up a diamond smuggling case he and Robin have been working on for two months now, and he'll be back in Gotham by next week."
( Ironically at that moment, Batman and Robin were being bound by their arms, wrists, and ankles with colorful strands of wire-strong streamers by garishly dressed geisha girls and being laid head to head on the conveyor belt of a fortune cookie-making machine. )
"I'm just glad to do anything I can to help out, Commissioner," said Batgirl. "Chief O'Hara, did the police find anything at the scene of the crime?"
"Sorry to say nothing important, me lassie. The only thing we found was a little piece of dried tuna - flavored cat food."
Batgirl's eyes widened. "That's just the lead we need! Percival Penache would never feed such rare and valuable animals such an ordinary and un-dignified diet. That little speck of cat-food fell off the clothes of the burglar. Find out where that came from and we find our cat-burglar!"
"Saint's alive! If it ain't just crazy enough to work!" Said O'Hara.
"We'll scour every abandoned cat-food factory in Gotham," said Gordon. "I'll send men on patrol to the south and the west side. O'Hara, you take a garrison up north."
"And I'll take the east," declared Batgirl. "We'll have the cats back in the cradle in no time."
Several hours of searching soon led the curvy crime-fightress to the darkened back-room of the abandoned Krazy Kitty Krispies Kat Kakes Kompany warehouse. As she pranced gracefully through the shadows, searching for signs of trouble, she heard the familiar " clop " of spiked heel boots step in place behind her. As the lights shot on, Batgirl turned to face the amazon-esque Catwoman. The Feline Felon was dressed in black skin-tight leather, seemingly poured all the way down her lanky, voluptuous body.
"Well, my winged mouse," she snarled. "I see you followed the cat-food clue I left you!"
"Your claws are being clipped, Catwoman!" proclaimed Batgirl. "What have you done with those poor kittens?"
"You'll find out soon enough, my dear girl. In the meantime, why not play with my kittens?"
Catwoman called out into the darkness. "Mittens! Muffy! Fluffy! Puffy! Whiskers!"
From the shadows stepped five beautiful young women. The first was a tall blond dressed in black lycra all over her sensual body. The second was a petite brunette wearing a leopard-print hotpants and vest combination suit with white go-go boots. Third was a red-head in a white body-glove with black tiger-stripes. The forth was a tall African-American girl with wild black hair and long legs, wearing jack boots, shorts, and a bikini-top under a short leather biker's jacket. The last was a petite blond with perky breasts dressed in a red halter top and denim cut-off shorts. The girls surrounded Batgirl, each ready to strike.
With the flick of a talon Catwoman shouted "Attack!"
The hateful harlots surrounded Batgirl, but being their superior in speed and agility, it was just a simple matter of ricocheting between them with lightning-fast kicks and twisting out of reach as they lunged forward, spinning them to the ground. Her ballet-like grace sent them crashing into the walls, as well as each other. The power in her shapely legs knocked her attackers clear across the room. But the triumph was short lived as a sharp, stabbing pain burned up her neck from her shoulder. Twirling to the ground, she caught a glimpse of Catwoman holding her dart-gun as the heavy darkness shut her eyes.
As the world slowly materialized around her, Batgirl awoke to a strange gripping sensation around her body. Her wrists were crossed over her head, held by tight, thin wire. It entwined down her arms and across her pert breasts and narrow waist. Her legs were gripped together at the knees.
Her memory flashed.
The Cat's Whiskers!
"Comfy Batgirl?"
Catwoman stood over her - smiling like a cat with a canary trapped in its clutches.
Batgirl remained defiant, refusing to show Catwoman any fear. "So it's back to the Whiskers, Catwoman? That's a sad lack of ingenuity on your part!"
"Oh, I've added a delightful twist, my little bat." She turned her head. "Mittens, Whiskers, get the cats . . . and the milk."
"What in the name of decency are..."
"There's nothing decent about it, my dear."
Catwoman's hench-girls brought a large box over to where Batgirl lay helpless.
"These Cat's Whiskers are quite different from the original, my dear. The concept is similar to Chinese finger-cuffs. The more you struggle, the tighter they fit."
"Then I won't struggle."
"Oh, but you will, my dear girl. You will. You see, in this box I have a litter of starving
kittens. They were cruelly abandoned in some Gotham City backalley. Mittens and Whiskers just rescued them.
The kitties need their milk." Mittens handed her a carton of milk. "Unfortunately, we have no saucers. We'll have to
improvise."
"You hell-spawned hussy!"
With a hateful cackle, Catwoman poured the milk all over Batgirl's body. The rich, creamy white liquid washed all over her. Seeping down over her breasts to her thighs, spattering her face. It was then that the corrupt kitten's confidants opened the box.
"Now Batgirl, we'll see how much of a licking you can take."
At least two dozen kittens poured out of the box: some pure white, some all black, most multiple colors. They all came straight for Batgirl - hungry eyes glaring.
They began licking her, tickling her with their sandpaper-rough tongues.
Batgirl squirmed and wriggled, holding her breath, desperate to keep from laughing. The tiny tongues darting all over her. She clenched her teeth, but could not suppress the first small giggles from her sternum. As her squeaking laughs made her jiggle, her chest and torso heaved and shook, tightening the thin twine around her.
The kittens kept licking. Soon Batgirl was choking back full laughs, her sleek dancer's body shaking violently. Her spasms pulling the Whiskers tighter and tighter, crushing the breath from her lungs.
IS THIS HOW IT ENDS FOR THE DARK-KNIGHT DAMSEL?
WILL CATWOMAN GET IN THE LAST LICKS?
BE HERE NEXT TIME!
SAME BAT-TIME!
SAME BAT-CHANNEL!