Dark Knight Walker(Batman to Prostitute Tg) (Patreon)

Multiple disappearances all within the last two months in Gotham, the cops assigned to the case vanishing without a single trace save for one ID that crumbled into nothingness after a week. There were more irregularities, the log of who was investigating tampered with, an even earlier pair of detectives logged that no one could remember on record, their desks still filled with personal effects, the office ignoring the absence, though the two desks now stood as ominous, something wrong about this case as no one had any interest in becoming the 5th group to vanish. No one knew what to do about it, and like with every other case that grew too big for GothamPD, eventually a beleaguered commissioner Gordon turned to Batman, the caped crusader appearing soon after the bat signal went up.

"What's wrong Jim? I thought you were trying to quit."

Gordon waved away his concern, smoking his bummed cig down to the filter as he handed the file over.

"I'm always quitting. Besides I think you have something a lot more concerning than my habits on your plate this time."

Without a word Batman flipped through the documents, admittedly knowing most of the details from his own investigations. After the silence grew too uncomfortable for Jim, he tapped some Ash onto the roof, asking, "So, any ideas on what the hell's going on?"

"Hmm... seems like a textbook case of magic, though the disappearances aren't localized to any of the petty sorcerers in the area. Odd."

The fact he already had a lead was comforting, though he had no idea how to deal with a magic user.

"What do I have to have a priest on hand to keep em stuck in prison or-"

When he turned, Batman was already gone, probably off to finish this thing over the weekend. Finishing off his cigarette, Gordon turned off the signal and just hoped when he found the other detectives, they wouldn't be in body bags.

Batman wasn't all that worried despite the likely otherworldly influence on this case. It wasn't his first rodeo with magic and he had plenty of charms and countermeasures in place from Zatanna and others where he felt confident he could deal with whatever was messing with the flow of reality. Even Bat-Mite was fairly easy to convince with words and he highly doubted anything could approach that thing's reality alterations. Looking over all the data he had, the disappearances all congregated around the territory of Carmine Falcone, one of Gotham's many mob bosses, though of all the "regular" petty crime lords he was the most powerful, wielding influence across multiple cities and states with his branch of the mafia. He was tricky in his own right given his political influence, but past that it was usually more of a tactical struggle than anything physical. The real question in his mind was why only the first set of detectives had been erased from reality and none of the others. Perhaps he didn't have full control of the spell? He'd find out shortly.

The past few days he had been narrowing down locations, staking out where the bulk of Falcone's men were traveling, tracking multiple targets likely next to disappear. Sure enough, site of interest number three was where a community organizer who had been arguing against some of Falcone's building expansions had entered and never left. And it seemed the mob boss was only getting more brazen with their illicit activities as time went on. Prostitutes crowded the streets like it was the late eighties again and were soliciting openly. There seemed to be no oversight at all, either all the cops vanished or bribed to stay away as he prepared to enter. Security was rather light at the building oddly, more patrols around it than near, just a simple camera setup as he cracked a window silently, entering in to find a building filled with... trapped women?

It was strange, the moods of the girls in the building switching on a dime, some barely aware of his entrance, others flitting between looking terrified, horny and giggly. The possibility of there being a gaseous cocktail from Scarecrow or Joker had him turning his air filter on, his eyes peeled for anything runic or ethereal looking as he heard his comms spark to life.

"Aww why didn't you bring me along? Looks like a fun time!"

"Quiet Robin, I need to focus."

"Just saying. Sure beats staying in a moldy cave half the night."

He ignored Dick's whining, Alfred away for a week on business leaving Robin on comm duty. Near a corner, he saw a promising sight, a bunch of runes and religious symbols drawn in circles around a few small, naked statues of jade goddesses, each one more debased than the last as the air around them had a faint shimmer, a tell tale sign of a barrier of some sort either for protection or for some sort of ritual with words above.

NO LEAVING/BE HORNY/MAKE MONEY FOR FALCONE/NO MEN

He wasn't willing to test his magic defenses that far, but it further confirmed his theory that these girls were being held against their will, likely being brainwashed. The more he looked, the more odd details came to his attention, a number of girls moaning the loudest pawing at their panties, one or two girls in outfits he swore they hadn't been wearing when he came in. It was probably a good idea to make a commotion and rescue these girls for now. He could monitor Falcone's activities after they lef-

"NNGH!"

Something slammed into his head, his thoughts a mess as he glanced around the room for any explanation, a concussive throb hammering away at his skull as cracks formed on his batsuit.

"Bruce are you ok-BZZ your fe-BZZ turn-BZZ cra-BZZZZZT-"

His tech was going wild, eyes flashing in his suit as he stumbled, wiring disintegrating as his suit dissolved, leaving a stunned Bruce in little more than his black underlayer, his suit gone without a trace.

This had never happened before, Bruce understandably shocked as he stood stunned for a split second. Thankfully he did have some amnestics back at the cave that could prevent them from remembering his face, but now he was practically naked, his identity free for all to see and he knew their camera system would pick him up on its screens any second. Right now he had to lea-

CRUNCH

"AGGH! MMPH!"

Again another concussion, white flecks blocking out half of his vision as Bruce fell to one of the many stained mattresses on the floor, tearing at his clothing as it came alive. It was strangling him, strips of it shredding to nothing as his full body leotard broke off at his hips, arms and legs separating as the cloth gripped him tighter and tighter. His bulging muscles mattered little to the twisting fabric, his face turning red as the black coloring faded to white, the quality of it cheapening though its unbreakable strength betrayed the flimsiness of the generic sleeveless undershirt and panties digging into him, restraining him more successfully than most rope traps ever could.

Every thought of escape sent another punch into his skull, the clothes digging tighter and tighter into his flesh as he gurgled out a failed cry for help, the world getting dim as his thrashing began to slow. This couldn't be happening could it? Was he going to die here, completely blind to the forces changing him? No there had to be a way out, he couldn't die to clothing he was too strong for- He choked out a moan, confused as pain turned to warmth, dispersing through his muscles as a suspended, buzzing nag worked its way through his body, dispelling pain as well as changing him the further it drove into his very core. All he could tell at the moment was that his clothes seemed to be slacking and that whatever it was felt surprisingly erotic.

He was starting to understand that it was the spell doing this, reacting to some sort of key word in his thoughts or actions, yet what it was doing was still lost to him, obfuscated further by the sudden swerve into pleasure as he rolled on the bed, his entire body thrumming in time with the throb in his head as his breathing grew less frantic and more purposeful. Each breath out lasted longer than the ones in, his body deflating in time as years of training faded in seconds. That brought a new level of panic once he realized it wasn't the clothes getting looser, that pleasure filled warmth a tainted gift as his arms and legs melted into soft twigs.

It was hard to express how comforting the slow decay of strength felt, like a fit of drowsiness or the intoxication found near the late stages of hypothermia, all of it reinforced a state of inaction while any attempts to escape led to a physical feeling squeeze on his body. It didn't matter that he no longer had the strength to parkour across rooftops, nor did it matter that his abs were pleasurably slamming into his abdomen, jellyfying as they hugged tighter to his flattening body. He had to move while he could, every step increasing the pressure on his softened body as he grunted, ignoring the pleasure, ignoring the warmth, staggering over moaning girls as he walked towards the window he had broken.

His frame was shuddering, his ears ringing as each step was like a kick to the head, another ten feet dived down as sweat pooled across his quivering body. Hair burnt away, sunspots and scars turned to smooth, pale flesh as his well shaved body lost even the ability to grow hair below his eyebrows, his groin tingling as the small hairs plucked and faded leaving it smooth and tender to the slightest touch. Two feet from the window and every instinct in his body was being used to try and dissuade him, one foot and he needed a minute between steps. And when he touched the window, his body broke to his horror, and delight.

It was like he was being squeezed through a tight tube, stuffed to fit as his shoulders broke inwards, a brief tearing pain quickly quelled by the same insistent warmth trying to placate him, his broad frame collapsing into rounded edges and curved lines. Years of training flickered through his mind, Bruce trying to think of what would be applicable in this new body, dooming himself to further changes as a haze hovered over his mind. Hand to hand combat grew impossible, his fingers slimming, nails growing out to polished beauties as a much more appealing thought of clawing infiltrated his mind, feeling far more sensible to a weak, docile-

He shook his head, not liking that stray thought one bit, his black hair matted with sweat as strands were creeping down his cheeks. That wasn't right, he was trained in the mystic arts of-

"HNNGH!"

seduction all to better tantalize customers for- no one. Besides why would he spend all this time training his body just to get into catfights with people. He was a lean, mean-

"OHHhhhhhh~..."

That thought really seemed to annoy the spell, Bruce's stomach rumbling as he gripped it between slender fingers. While he had lost plenty of muscle, it still looked masculine, but the sides were crinkling inwards, that softness added to his clear skin amplifying the outlined curves that were grafting onto his body. There were a few crackles of bone breaking and shifting, but there was no pain, only a drawn out pleasure that made his eyes close, winding him as his waist turned slender. His top half was unrecognizable at this point, svelte and weak, tender to the touch as he opened his eyes in horror.

He could feel his mind being invaded, corrupted, the peripheries already fuzzy, yet he fought in vain, insisting how wrong this was against the quiet whispers telling him to embrace it. This wasn't him he was a big-

"NNGH!"

A big-

CRRK

A-A big...

CRUNCH

"Ahhhh~!"

Bruce was slammed to the grimy floor, each futile thought of his original form slamming against his spine, like a person was repeatedly jumping on the small of his back with each one. Every time it slammed down, his spine would pop, an inch of curve added as his posture was forced to arch, his confused moans accenting each shift as his chest and ass prominently thrusted out in all their ordinary flatness. When the final crunch sounded out, he was left gasping on the ground, moaning as his hardened cock scraped against a sheeted mattress, his moans mingling with the other girls, though he barely noticed them amidst his own dizzy turmoil. By this point, the window was thoroughly scarred into his brain as something to avoid, fear winning out as he moved away from it, deciding he'd find another way. Though it pained him to admit defeat, the spell made sure to reward him for his first thought of acquiescence, his nipples throbbing to life as an effeminate squeak left his lips.

Looking down, his nipples were puckered, clearly outlined against the now loose wifebeater. The scratch fabric agitated them more, the flesh noticeably pinker and puffy. It felt wrong. Not the engorged nature of them, but in how the swelling was so small, their flatness marring the curvy beauty his body had become, a sudden need to touch them repeating incessantly inside his head until out of curiosity he stabbed into one with a nailed finger, moaning and gasping at the shocking sensitivity as his panties grew a small damp spot. He pulled away from the brink, ignoring how much he wanted to give in like the slutty little thing he wasn't. He had to figure out what was happening, understand the rules of this area. He knew people came in and out so there had to be something he could use before it was too late. A stack of magazines nearby would hopefully have some hints scrawled into them, plus the girls on the cover looked so fashionable and sheik!

It was with great intensity that he set about his "research," his lips subtly puffing up with every rising "ooh" and "ahh" as outfits and fashion poured through his mind. Again he was rewarded for his "good behavior" as gloss polished his lips to shiny suckers, an especially racy outfit filling him with a twinge of jealousy, his ass the next thing to perk as he halfheartedly looked for notes in the margins in between articles. He moaned blissfully, the muscle of his ass rippling as if it had been slapped, the cheeks turning softer as they gained a slight flush to them. The spell handled his muscle roughly, massaging the strength and masculinity out in violent, ecstatic grinds, his buns rising soon to a perfectly plump arrangement, stretching the panties tight against his leaking cock. God he hated them, the cotton tight and cumbersome and like, soooo bland. How would he meet his quota without something racier?

"Ohhhhh faaaaawwk~!"

Okay bad thought bad thought, he could feel the rough force that had shaped his ass now squirming between his cheeks, spreading them before christening his asshole with a sudden, rough ramming. Bruce buried his head in the folds of the magazine, muffling his screams as he tried to focus on anything besides the pleasure, blonde beauties all he could see as the supernatural fucking continued. Something was being pounded away, his hair paling the more the pleasure dug into his thoughts, the raw ecstasy of being taken feeling more like a fun memory than a physical process. In fact, the harder the invisible force fucked his ass, the tighter it grew, his prostate melting under the pressure as his cock tensed. With a loud scream he finally came, moaning and thrashing as thick loads of cum spewed out his cock, the orgasm repeating until his balls were drained. He slumped forwards, his ass tingling from the rough handling, a dazed grin on his face as his still hard dick ground against the mattress, the next article being absorbed as he moaned.

It didn't matter that he didn't want to read any of it, his body was deciding for him, hands flipping through catalogues and showcases before he could fully process what was being crammed into his molding mind. He was concerned about his chances of escaping, but he was also concerned when he got to the leggings section if he could even fit. His legs were just so big and bulky and he needed something smaller to fit into a size-

Whatever strength was reserved in his legs for a final breakout attempt was squashed, the same rough massaging and intense pleasure rolling through them as fat bunched together. His calves were extending upwards, his thighs pressing down as pillowy fat fluffed its way through his legs. They felt wonderful against his cock already, but he knew it'd feel even better if he squeezed his junk between, something thin and slippery pouring out the tip as he giggled, the last two sections on heels and makeup.

The first was a bunch of sales for different fashionable footwear, the proper way to kick and balance himself for punching and combat replaced with an intimate working knowledge of heels and pumps. Without thinking he flexed his toes, popping his arches larger as his toes scrunched together, thinning into dainty ends that were made for heels, his own heels becoming as sleek and refined as the ones on the page. The horniness made it impossible to focus, his cock never so needy, his nipples positively thrumming as he tried squeezing them with his forearms, not yet ready to go all in on the sluttiness captivating the crusader's mind. Yet despite how absorbed he had been in the rest of the magazine, the final article was a let down, not a single helpful note in the margins and it was all beginner stuff in the article! Like of course she knew how to put makeup on. How else would she be one of Falcone's best girls?

Bruce had often meditated, taking a backseat role mentally to let his body relax and experience the world as it was. The other person in his brain had similar moments, but it was more spacing out than transcendence, giggles rising as he stood, noticing a room near the front, light streaming out of it as he was drawn towards it, unable to help his curiosity. He wasn't quite fading, just spacing out as the other her took control, his usual hyper aware stance made for prowling the streets shifting to a different sort of prowl entirely. His hips swayed, his ass perked, his arms hung at his sides as he strutted like his shoulders were leading him forwards, a confident sway that dripped sexual appeal as if it had always been a part of her life. The only issue was how little she had to flaunt, though the more she pretended she had the girls, the quicker the spell rewarded her mental insistence, letting her chest grow with her confidence as she moaned her way to the cheap looking bathroom on the side.

While the bathroom itself was threadbare, the makeup cabinet was anything but, filled with brands and products that seemed like old friends, feeling right in his hands as the application methods filled what meager muscle memory was left to him. In the back of her head, Bruce struggled to stop, already shocked at his reflection, his protests lost under the overwhelming positive feedback her breasts provided as she groped them, her cock leaking as she began carving out cuteness from the rugged face left in the mirror. Instead of a chisel, she used a brush, rounding the contours of her cheeks, primping her eyelashes longer as a slight sting widened her eyes to doey wonders that fluttered in the dim light. Bruce could only watch as his nose was crimped and cutened, any dark streaks in his hair worked out with a comb as an innocent young hooker stared back, ready to work, yet despite how hopeless things seemed, he found one spark of hope as she posed in the mirror.

The thought of her "work" was spellbinding, orgasmic need filling her as her cock pumped out thinner and thinner trickles of clear cum. And of course in order to work, she had to go out to the streets and return to this shabby lil halfway whorehouse before she upgraded to her proper suite. It was the fact that this line of thought didn't trigger the concussive blasts that Bruce found a chance, now taking the role of the backseat driver as he leaned her into it. It was hard to contain his joy as she started moving towards the stairs, the thought of escap-

"OHHH~ YAAAASSS!"

A tight squeeze partially pressed their balls inside, a line of other changed girls waiting impatiently for them to leave to do their own makeup while Bruce amended his thinking. The thought of a work trip that'd lead to them going back excited them. After all you never knew just what might happen. And sure enough, she was walking down the stairs, a pink dress forming as five inch hot pink heels egged her forwards, the exit in sight. Once she was outside she could do whatever she felt like, and given how horny she was, all she could think of was-

"Hey! We got a new girl here! Alberto wanna break her in?"

He instinctively tried saying no, but the voice inside came out, "Yesss~!"

She knew this was the boss's son, and pleasing him meant pleasing the big guy who paid her bills and gave her nice things to wear. A lanky guy appeared, nervous looking with thin rimmed glasses as he kept eyeing the bulge in her panties while her instincts had her teasing and rubbing against him, happy to have such a refined gentleman for her first... lol what was she thinking, she had lost count ages ago...

Bruce was scared as they stripped down, teasing a strap of her bra away as part of him was excited, a gap throbbing needily behind his groin as his entire cock shivered, about to be entered, pulling tighter and tighter until he felt ready to explode with anticipation for the boss's son's cock.

Instead it imploded, Brenda's eyes shooting open as she squealed, half from the novelty of her first fucking, and half to give the nervous client some confidence as her cock pulled inside, fucking her thoroughly as she came from just the feel of his cock inside, her tight pussy clamping down as she loved every sweaty, nervous second of it. Even the part of her that was Bruce was blissed out, the two giggling as waves of ecstasy filled their body, the love of the work ingraining itself into them as nympho habits finished coding into their brains as the boss's son finished prematurely. To be fair, it was probably for the best since like, her acting wasn't THAT good and it really wasn't all that good of a fuck after that first dive in, but it wasn't like she was going to talk back to a VIP customer. She hoped he could put in a few good words for her to the boss, a part of her disgusted for giving in so easily, yet the promise of more cock now strung her along like a carrot on a stick.

She was soon walking the streets, any thoughts of escape making her all the more horny, a few steps all it took before she was damn near pouncing on any guy that walked by. Before they knew it, the sun was climbing, their pussy aching and spent as Brenda sighed, clutching her stacks of cash that proved she was a loyal slut to the mob hunks that owned her. At some point in the night, that annoying voice in her head quieted, some dumb part of her acting like she didn't want this, but thankfully after enough good fucks it like, stopped shouting dumb words she didn't understand and joined her in moaning along. She could still feel it sulking in the back of her head, but she didn't mind. There'd be plenty of nights to make her all whore and she could tell whatever it was had enjoyed it more than it was letting on.

Sure enough, it didn't take long for any thoughts Bruce had that weren't about fucking to be stomped down, every chance of escape thwarted through either her own horniness or her inability to wrest control as even his stoic refusal to bend shattered over a series of embarrassing blowjobs, handjobs and other sordid acts that Brenda loved and he... also loved ashamedly. There wasn't much of an option, the magic reinforcing it daily, every waking moment a battle with pleasure and stupidity as while he fought to stay aware, Brenda made sure to earn the Falcone family plenty of cash. Days passed in a blur, the family making sure the changes stuck as she knew she'd soon be moved to a suite. As she went to sleep, only one question remained for Bruce, her will utterly exhausted. Why were only the first group erased from reality?

TAP TAP

"Batman? Batman? You there?"

Brenda awoke with a start, seeing Robin looking around for where his mentor could be hiding, sure that some second rate mobsters could never get the drop on Gotham's protector. Then it all clicked for her, her desire to scream for help, to tell him to run perverted into a comely stare as she invited him into the ruins of the window the guards had only just replaced, the horny guy not needing much reason to go into the arms of a willing lovely lady even as his glances towards the exit made his lashes grow past the mask, hair starting to climb down to his shoulders. The victims were bait as much as they were prostitutes, drawing all rivals and obstacles into the trap.

Eventually it might grow too big to be noticed by a sorcerer, or maybe the spell would give out under the scope, but who knows when or even if that would happen. All Brenda could do was giggle as Robin began to change, wondering how long it would take to break the new girl in.