CASS TWINNING (CASSANDRA CAIN TG) (Patreon)

Cassandra thrashed, body burning as she twisted under layers of blankets, her sweat covered skin feverish. She had put up a good fight, unsure what was happening inside her body, but certain it was a feeling she had to fight with every last breath. Not for the first time she was cursing her upbringing, her vocabulary not developed enough to properly explain just how intense and wrong the sensations were, the rest of Bruce's team assuming it was a fever of some sort when she first began panting and burning all over. There had been a fight near a Lazarus Pit, Cassandra unsure of the specifics on how Lady Shiva had made a temporary one in Gotham, but what had mattered was her untimely dip right as the magics were being cast. It had blown up in their faces quite literally, taking out her mother and her vague plans, and though her skin had been scalded all over and her suit required intense cleaning, Cassandra had thought little of her dip in a faulty pit till the heat had started.

It had been a throb of warmth in her stomach at first, building to a burning coal over the course of two days as she began to show physical signs of the heat. Worse it was spreading, the feeling trying to swallow her, something building inside moment by moment till she had collapsed in a feverish sweat.

"Hot. Building. Changing. Please..."

None of that had conveyed how desperately she was trying to hold it in, a swirling vortex building inside her as she had been laid in her bed, her mind a mess as magics mixed with her very essence, her will only able to hold back so much. It happened three days into her bedrest, Cassandra exhausted, her feverish state slurring any hope of conveying how dangerous the forces inside were. The heat lapped at her brain, trembled between her thighs as her stressed body finally relaxed, a loud cry of bliss screeching down the halls of the manor as something spilled out her pussy and evaporated into the air around her.

It was its own sort of nirvana, her moans periodically hitching as wispy hints of black magic boiled the resulting cum, a makeshift Lazarus Pit of her essence boiling over between her thighs as her room grew choked with her essence. For a half hour it built inside her room, the thick carpets and heavy oak only releasing trace elements of the perverse magic, the spread contained till Alfred heard one of her cries, the butler hastening with his tea platter and replacement towel for the feverish mistress, knocking on the door twice out of politeness. With no answer save a muffled shriek, the seriousness forced him to act in haste, pushing open the door as he was greeted by a miasma of Cassandra's essence.

"Miss Cain is everything quite alr-NNGAAAH~?!"

The tea set clattered to the floor, Alfred's body well steeped in the heated magic as his gloves melted around his fingers, his layers of shirts and fastidious butler attire all melting under the mist as the magic scalded his throat and seeped under his skin.

"Ohh~ dear!"

Wrinkles were flattening, his British pallor steeping to a familiar golden hue as it expunged his pores of hair, his nipples thickening against the tight squeeze of latex and plastic as one eye rolled upwards, the other slanting down as his burnt lips softened and plumped. It was too much all at once, Calfred's hair spilling down his cheeks, his skin alight with warm pulses of tenderness as his liquifying outfit was hardening to tight, form-fitting latex. It was squeezing him, riding up his ass as he felt the pull of each ass cheek in the tailored suit pinch and slap his ass, the suit lacking a codpiece as Casred felt his now shorn cock stiffen under the tightening suit, the smooth flesh erect and throbbing as he began to squeak as he tried to resist the changes.

CRACK

"Ohh my~! OHH OHHH must cahhhll~ HAHHH~! Nngh call m-master. Must tell- OOOH~!"

As his voice cracked so did his hips, the forceful spreading sending him toppling to the ground, his hips shifting side to side as they rounded, a pleasant curve adding to the undeniable pleasure surging through his body. The age-creased lines of his forehead were refurbished, his skull giving a loud crunch as with it went years of manners and etiquette, the shifting back of his swelling ass adding a lewd forwards thrust to the mix that grew more fevered by the second.

There was such a delightful shifting deep inside his body, the collar of his latex suit detaching as he tried to scream for help, gagging him as his chin snapped, manners and syntax spilling from a leaking cock that felt increasingly alien on his body. As the other eye slanted his hip thrusts were growing ever more needy, urged on by the pinch of latex on his swollen buttocks, his thighs rubbing frantically against a burning rod that was spewing out all of its old identity, allowing for more Cassandra to seep and spread as her youthful cheeks rounded, her voice groaning through the gag as slender hands wrapped around his waist and squeezed.

"He" gave a series of frantic groans, so much strength toning faded muscles of yore, a strong line chiseling into his curving body as his sides were molded to the fit of the uniform. Cassandred rolled about the floor, her spine arched to fit the shape of the skintight rubber, bare nipples groped and packed as they swelled, filling every gap they could as he ground them against the floor. He had to remember his training, h-his time as a but- bu- assassin?

"NNGH MMPH MMMHM~!"

All manners were gone as slender hands rubbed desperately at the tight pocket of pleasure thrusting against the bottom, trying to rub away the pain, the realization at how good that felt removing the final barriers Cassandrad had as she pushed against the bulge. Her other hand kept feeling up her new body, able to tell how badly she needed this as the trembling of her waist and bouncing of breasts ironed out a new language inside her shrinking vocabulary, one of gesture and posture, her youthful visage squeezed tight as she worked harder at the throbbing need down below.

It was melting, each thrust making her pleasure grow, warmth thrusting inside as her fingers continued to thrust, going from awkward palming to a more forceful jab with her thumbs, her body honed to a curved weapon hellbent on reaching the churning pits of rebirth begging for entrance. One thrust and she felt something pop, a lump dissolving in the heat as clear juices spilled from the new opening, another jab widening the hole as she screamed. Yes this was what she wanted. Thrust, push, fuck. Must force heat, finger softness, push into-

SCHLICK

Cassandra burst, a second wave of the rebirth miasma spreading from her twitching form as she worked at her utility belt, fingers sliding to reach her freshly opened slit as the former butler eagerly gave into the basest of pleasures. She was hardly aware of the grate she was dry humping for further leverage, the ventilation gladly sucking in the waves of magic spurting from her, entering the mansion's ducts as it spread down to even the caverns below…

Bruce and Clark were having a small talk after a teamup earlier in the city, going over security footage, talking general plans. Bruce was the first to feel the effects, the thin concentration taking time to fill the batcave with its corruption. The effects were negligible though, just a hint of his bangs being slightly longer, their well-maintained state easily masking the slight shifts in silkiness, a subtle reduction in their oily nature even as sweat began to stick it to the shallowing folds of his ever-creased forehead. The most noticeable side effect was a slight scratch in his throat, growing more bothersome as he had to clear his throat more often. He sent a message to Alfred requesting some tea though there was a noticeable lack of response. Perhaps he was busy helping Cassandra through her flu? He wondered if he had caught something from her...

Clark on the other hand had the sensory awareness to notice something was starting to surround them, the smell faintly of sweat and some odd mix of spices. Knowing Bruce he just assumed it was some kind of fancy potpourri, though by being so acutely aware of it the subtle addictive nature of it wormed its way inside his brain. It was a nice feeling, the thickening haze creating a dizzying effect as his super nose breathed deeply, giving himself a super dose of Cassandra, the magic forming a patina over Superman's brains as his thighs squeezed together, spots of black forming on his spandex outfit. Another deep breath in and his groin was as stiff as any other muscle in his body, his nose wrinkling as the tip angled upwards, losing most of its broadness as it shrank and sank into his increasingly dazed expression, a cute, ill-fitting button atop a face it did not match, though the subtle sounds of gristle and bone shifting would ensure that would change soon enough.

That patina of magic in his head squeezed, Clark giving a pleased grunt as his chiseled features weathered to something softer, sharper, his lips puckering as the layer squeezed again, harder. Inside his brain his internal dictionary of phrases and vocab were being whited out, pages torn from his mental stockpile as his pucker grew thicker as various colloquialisms from Smallville were next to go, his hair turning spikier and softer as his eyes angled, more pleasant pops softening his cheeks and chin as his pleased panting hastened the flow of magic. Patches of skin were beginning to soften, the complexion shifting in specks of gold, splotches of black turning his outfit to a patchwork of materials all trying to tighten around him. The magic was in his blood, pumping into his muscle, his hardened physique trembling as a wave of blissful weakness spread through his system.

Bruce wasn't blind, just taken aback by the obvious changes happening, realizing something was very off from the moment Clark had started shuddering. He assumed he was fine himself though, his discerning eyes never better, so much information processing from just Clark's body language as he could tell where the groaning hero was going to change next just off muscular twitches. It was disturbing seeing such a clear look of lust on a hero known for their simple purity, and worse there was something familiar about his face that itched at the edges of his mind, another lock of hair sliding into his vision as he went to warn Clark.

"Clargh! Hmm? Clhhck chh nngh?"

That soreness from before thickened to a blockage, his throat half covered by a submerging Adam's Apple. It acted like a gag, keeping him from warning Clark who was off in a daze, Bruca noticing for the first time just how warm he felt, his body squeaking under the plastic, the ridges and layers of body armor simplifying as they squeezed around him, ensnaring him in something far too small for a man.

It wasn't just Calark's brain throbbing anymore, all the various bulges of his body swirling with magic, hairs sliding off smooth skin as the tightness below only worsened. The sleeves of his suit were unraveling, the neck loosening its hold as his pleased coos warbled up half a scale as his thick neck gradually chipped away. There was a need growing, his fingers twitching as nails subtly filed themselves as they tapered, his joints crackling as each one thinned. He wanted to play with himself, the arousal building inside, his throbbing muscles all starting to roll and shift under skin that was trying to squeeze tighter to some forming inner shape amidst the bulk. But he couldn't do that it wasn't the kind of thing you could do. It was uncivilized, impro-

THROB

"AHHN AHHH ooh g-good. Feels g-hoood~!"

The squeeze jettisoned the cultural norms out with a hot spurt down his thighs, Casarka cooing as his throat finished thinning. The hot cum burnt away the spandex covering his thighs, flaring out the top of his suit as the splotches of black resembled more of a dress than his iconic blue and red costume. All his small town raisings were gone, the thought of playing with himself losing that societal shame as the need throbbed, leaking away more and more norms as he gripped it in a shrinking palm, moaning as the soft flesh stroked up and down his shaft. It was so easy now, his cock firmly sticking out above a sinking waistband, his spandex shorts blackening as another release exhausted more of his masculine essence, the tight black shorts adding an enticing pressure on his balls as three inches of height and bulk were splattered onto the floor.

Brucas's changes were far less forgiving, the simple skintight number only able to stretch so far on his bulky frame, every muscle burning as he could feel his hard-earned muscle dwindling. His shoulder blades were being ground down, his biceps and triceps squeezed mercilessly by the sleeves of his top, yet the worst part was how deceptively good it all felt. He at least had the self control to hold back the budding arousal, certain that giving in would be the end of him even as a shoulder snapped down and in, inch after inch grinding away to a feminine slant. He tried grabbing something from his utility belt yet the magic seemed to sense his resistance, pockets and pouches vanishing. The belt cinched tight, digging into his sides, the pain always undercut by a throughline of pleasure as his innards churned, his cock squeezed as the tightening simplification reached his pants.

His groans turned more heated, the tight bottoms threading between his balls, adding unbelievable amounts of force on his cock as his other shoulder was squeezed to fit. It was relentless, Bracass whimpering in a chocked cry of pleasure as the endless thrusting between gradually wormed his balls inside, the tailored latex demanding flatness as he struggled not to cum. In the end it wasn't his choice, his hastening pants adding more magic to his system, black hair spilling down to his chin as he gave a pleased shriek. The blockage in his throat had dissolved, one of three lumps forcibly erased as he ground his hips against an upthrust rock along the cavern, delirious with pleasure as both balls were crushed inside a forming slit that eagerly wrapped along the base of his cock. It was a testament to his training how his cock remained stubbornly squeezed tight, yet it was all for naught as every last bit of cum in him gushed out his new chasm, Racassa feeling his intelligence fading to instinct as the tight squeeze of latex further teased his throbbing labia.

"Ahh~ g-goood so goood~! Hot! But gooood~!"

Any editorial insight from his career had long since spilled to the floor, Casanka moaning openly as his towering height was liquified and expunged. Flexibility was replacing raw power, his muscles all squirming as pounds were squeezed out in orgasmic bursts of want, all his responsibility and careful consideration lost under the fog of instinctive bliss as his strokes became messier and rougher. It was like he was gradually losing the memory on how to even handle a cock, like it was some alien appendage, though the way it twitched easily guided him towards greater peaks of pleasure.

As a... journalist? Cassanka's memories felt so blurry, the world rising up as he continued to stroke and thrust. Whatever his train of thought was, it was about people and how to read them, their muscles, their mannerisms, their pressure points to strike. His free hand jabbed at a spot right below his left nipple, the weak point making him scream in broken English as muscle surged under the loosening pec, his frame sucking into a petite package as his thighs ground against his balls. Another jab and his chest gained a matching breast, his invincible spine breaking easily as his heritage was overwritten by the magic, more jabs molding his waist to a toned, but curvy core.

Hearing his sister's matching squeals did jostle some awareness into the changing man's head, though it was more of how clearly in need his sister was, how desperately his frame was shuddering. It felt like a challenge, but Cassankra had a few last things to take care of as his boots squeezed curves into his shrunken calves, a series of targeted jabs throttling the muscle of his thighs as she felt the muscle smother her cock in fat, her tip distending as a finger slid inside her aching, leaking cock.

Raccassan could feel himself fading, unable to stop the ever present leak between his thighs, the at first alien muscles feeling more and more right the firmer they grew. He couldn't stop the moans, the familiar sound of Cassandra's voice squeezed from his vocal chords as the latex neck finished tuning his pleasured cries, his resistance a fading battle as bit lips plumpened, his chin snapping to a tight angle as he gripped his stomach desperately. He sounded like a girl being fucked, which wasn't too far off from the deepening spread of his new slit, each sliver of depth sending tremors through his whole body, Racassand feeling how his core was tightening, curving, so many muscles firm but with an appealing femininity to them as the tight material pinched his erect nipples.

"C-ahhhn't give! Fiiiight! Must- HYAAA~?!"

His face fully shifted as dainty hands gripped his ass in a surprise attack, firm hands gripping the muscle as they squeezed it thicker and plumper. It felt so good, Acassand trembling as his cock was starting to angle down, sliding into his slit as he tried to break free from his attacker, but her hands were unstoppable. They were sliding around his thighs, teasing his slit, the way they handled his body experienced, familiar. His head was throbbing, memories leaking down plush thighs as his waist was hugged even smaller, Acassandr turning to see another Cassandra in a black dress groping him.

"Fight?"

Her sporty shorts outlined a clear erection rubbing between Acassandr's thighs, his willpower fading with every teasing strike in this "spar." He had to get out before she could finish her off. H-Him off. He guy n-not-

"Uhhhn s-stahhp don't-"

"Ha. Weak sis-TEERRRGH AHHN AHH~!"

Cassankra squealed as her sister's palm strike firmly struck her cock, the muscular shaft wilting as it sank, aided inwards by her spats as Cassandra bucked away the last of her identity.

She had worked herself into a frenzy already while groping her own ass, but her sister's desperate crying egged her on, and then all the moaning of wanting a fight was too enticing to bear. Still it was a heavy blow, Cassandra rolling on the ground, hands between her thighs as the black lump flattened, her widened cock inverting as she fingered the sinking thing, a wet pop ending her struggling as she gasped on the floor for a moment, before hopping back to her feet, a cocky look in her eyes.

"One strike. Not loss. You next!"

Acassandr tried to crawl away, groaning as tubes and organs shifted, his slit-bound cock sinking a little as he shrieked in panic. He couldn't take much more, pulling up his shirt as tubes slithered and connected, the gap thrusting deeper inside, cleaving his prostate into a womb as another inch of cock sank inside. She needed to stop it, h-he? Needed pleasure needed-

"AHHHYEEE~!"

Cassandra was getting her payback, grabbing her sister from behind and aggressively tweaking her nipples. Acassandra squealed, helpless as her sister relentlessly made her cum over and over, each orgasm forcing her cock in another inch, her breasts pinched and torn out larger, rounder, jigglier, all that muscle finally bursting into perky, firm fat as her cock popped inside, Cassandra cumming as the last hints of her former teacher vanished in a wet burst of ecstasy.

"GIVE! I GIIIIIIVE! NO! WIIIIIN Y-HOUUUUU~ HYAAAAA~!"

Cassandra smirked, letting her sister go, the new Cassandra rubbing her abs as the final bits of her forming pussy slotted into place.

The two Cassandras were both still full of vigor and other feelings they couldn't quite vocalize, though their body languages told the other exactly what they needed, the two having some fun with each other's new bodies, the former Superman seemingly obsessed with tracing all the scars on their bodies as they wrapped around each other in every way they could think of, not having to say a word as they responded to their own aroused mannerisms.

An hour or so later the two girls had found their way back upstairs, the manor thick with miasma now that four Cassandras were gathered. They wordlessly picked up the first twin off the floor, a series of bobs and nods all that needed to be said as they moved to the original's room. With three Cassandras to service her it didn't take long for the original to feel better than ever, a happy, willing vector of twinning after the three hers showed all the benefits of having a group of peope who knew the ins and outs of your own body.

A sudden thumping a floor up caught their attention, the Cassandra quartet smirking as they heard confused groans, the pitter patter of someone running leading them out to the hallway.

"D-AHHHHD~?! Nngh ahh s-something wraaangh ooh OOOH!"

A shirtless Damian had been mid-workout during the mess, his tiny toned body squirming as he stared at the Cassandra collective with confusion, his hands covering a pair of pert beestings. They didn't even have to do anything, just being around him enough for the changes to hasten, his height gradually cranking up as his tiny breasts surged to their perky standard. The louder he moaned the more of their essence he breathed in, his features crunching to theirs, his tiny cock tripling in size as the years piled on. It was a short lived growth, but one he clearly enjoyed as he stroked it fervently in thin hands, bucking his hips as his tip slid under the spandex bottoms, a final, wet slurping noise turning her cries for help into broken, blissful moans for more.

All that desperation faded, the half-naked Cassie comfortable amongst her sisters, the group shrugging and gesticulating on what to do next. There was an urge, each of them turned on by the idea of spreading it to more and more people, not having to bend to the world but making the world bend to them. They decided to split up into patrols, some visiting Gotham PD, others Arkham, and as their numbers swelled more would help patrol the streets. It was so easy to communicate amongst like-minded people, so much more free to enjoy themselves and live how they wanted to. Some would probably resist but it would only take a touch.

Besides they had all read the body language, there hadn't been a single person who changed who hadn't thoroughly loved becoming them. All of their bodies screamed of wanting this. There was no guilt in conversion, only pleasure, and if there was one thing all the Cassandras knew for sure, it was that people should live how they wanted…