Commission: Kitten's Chrysalis (Part 1)

Summary: Kathryn Walker, daughter of the Killer Moth, turned mutant moth marauder, is jailed for life for her myriad crimes. But when she attracts the attention of the deranged goo form formerly known as Madame Rouge, Kathryn delights herself in a fusion of beings... and plans revenge against the superheroes that wronged her. Commissioned by TheDownhillRabbit6.1.

[Story Listing]

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Kitten's Chrysalis

Part 1

"Kathryn Walker, the full extent of your grievous offenses has been made apparent to this courtroom. Your myriad crimes against humanity in addition to your extortionist and underworld dealings, are well enough to earn you several lifetime sentences within the walls of Arkham Prison. It has been made clear to me that the extent to which you have experimented on yourself has severely degraded your psychological stability: extreme narcissism, regressive behaviours, and a noted inability to form concrete connections with other humans. As a result, I only see it fit that you be placed within the Hugo Strange Penitentiary and Rehabilitation Center, so that you may receive treatment for your various psychoses and begin the path to proper rehabilitation."

That entire miserable trial had played out six months prior, and Kathryn still wasn't over it. It was a total kangaroo court case, and everyone was against her. And she had put so much time in getting herself just right for her big public appearance; her father had a considerable background in genetic treatments, and she took after the best from him. She actually took quite well after her old man, Drury Walker... though he was more commonly known as the Killer Moth, scourge of Jump City.

Her daddy loved moths almost as much as he loved her—he was her little Kitten, after all—and she saw the applications in some of his serums with great enthusiasm. She was also a romantic soul, and thought immortalizing his genius in her own supple form would be a most delightful tribute.

The courtroom was shocked by her radically warped appearance on the day of her trial. Content to arrive in the full purity of her naked flesh, she had unfurled a pair of orange-black patterned insect wings, resembling those of a moth. Tufts of fluff wrapped around her neck, shoulders, ankles and waist like fashion accessories; though soft as cashmere, they were well and truly sprouted from her own ebony limbs. Her eyes were pitch black, seemingly sparkling on their own; though at a glance they resembled her previous expression, they were actually hundreds of miniature eyes, packed together into a networking mesh, and to a couple members of the jury, under the right light, they noticed that disconcerting face. They lit up in unison, her wings flapping and spreading as she drank in the enraptured attention of the crowd.

Though perhaps that attention was due to the dust that flapped from her outstretched wings; like pixie dust, it scattered around the room in an orange fog. The dust from her wings had strange pheromonic properties, and she delighted herself in the gawking stares of the civilians in the front row, their jaws agape as they tried to climb over the bars to get closer to her...

Then she frowned, recalling how she was jumped by a pair of bailiffs wearing gas masks, brutalized with batons and tazed into unconsciousness. She faintly recalled how the trial had to be redone, with no captive audience. A shame.

Kathryn often reflected on the judge's final verdict, the slamming of the gavel that finalized what was to be the rest of her life. She recalled the words bitterly, sneering at the judge's holier-than-thou attitude.

Despite the judge's flattering description of her that called attention to her mental faculties, Kathryn wasn't an idiot. There was little interest in rehabilitating career supervillains; she was going to be here for life, regardless of good behaviour.

She determined that she wouldn't be broken. Sure, she would play nice with the guards, just so they wouldn't take a special interest in tearing off her wings (she at least made sure they could regenerate). But as soon as she found an opening, as soon as she "coerced" some friends and guards, in a moment of weakness, she would make this entire prison complex her bitch.

So she bided her time, waiting for someone to come to her. She had contacts in the underworld, after all. Someone would come to her rescue.

---

Ten years had passed since Madame Rouge had been captured by the combined forces of the Teen Titans.

In that time, she was incarcerated in the high security sector of Huge Strange Penitentiary and Rehabilitation Center. This high-tech facility was initially constructed as a supermax prison with the intent to house and secure the most heinous of supervillains (and there was no shortage of those to go around), and as an alternative to the somewhat porous security of the nearby Arkham Asylum. Nowadays, the facility had been downgraded to a medium-security prison, but the notoriety of its inmates remained without question.

Her condition had deteriorated considerably in that time. Deprived of her stabilizing mutagens to sustain her shapeshifting abilities, she slowly lost her solidity, her humanity and, as some doctors eventually concluded, her mind. As far as the outside observer could tell, the former superassassin, once coolly alluring, domineering, and level-headed, couldn't register a cognizant thought, couldn't communicate a word of any language, couldn't restore her womanly form.

The guards were thankful for the supreme lack of intelligence that Madame Rouge now exhibited, her form reduced to a sizable pile of ooze. Clever supervillains could construct plans, muster support, and slip free of their bonds. But Madame Rouge was little better than a pile of ooze, resembling so much oozing slime. Containment was a breeze for such a brainless creature. Sometimes the guards thought she was dead, but a quick taze would awaken the ooze, disturbing it with tendrils flailing all around its containment cell.

So the formless entity formerly known as Madame Rouge spent its days idly laying about, squelching and consuming whatever nutritional slop slipped into its holding cell. The guards posted to her sector were increasingly distracted by other inmates, and the ooze that wouldn't do anything, even if poked with a stick, wasn't exactly the most thrilling of assignments.

The slime lazed about, unthinking, her tendrils feeling along the cool walls of the cell. It shifted slightly; at the tip of its tentacles, it picked up a faint, yet distinct aroma. It was pleasant, but with a strange sexual musk to it.

The slime burbled, and shifted, bubbling as if suddenly possessed by an otherworldly excitement. She lurched across the ground, tendrils exploring the cell as she pulled herself along.

It was dark in the facility, on account of it being in the middle of the night and all its inmates sequestered to their curfews. But the ooze sensed warmth billowing from elsewhere, and could feel the walls and the ground as tactile sensations registered within it. Enraptured, it lurched along, coiling up the wall, lurching towards the ventilation shafts.

The designers of this particular cell understood the implication of Madame Rouge's shapeshifting abilities, and prepared barricading measures and various safeguards to prevent traversal through these passages; in her time when she was sentient, she had long ago probed these defences, registering cracks in the barriers to push her way outside of the box that she was so callously stuffed inside of. She had waited so long, until her mind had abandoned her, but her physical memory remained. The ooze forced its way through the cracks, wrapping around the ventilations as it forced itself between the walls and above the ceilings. With unparalleled access to the inner workings of the facility, she could go wherever she pleased...

But she didn't make her way to the exit. She followed the enticing scent of those alluring pheromones that tingles her indistinct senses. She coiled around the ventilation shaft and oozed her way from sector to sector.

The sectors in this facility were designated with varying tiers of security, with the most dangerous criminals sequestered in Sector A, the highest security there was. Madame Rouge, even in her prime, only registered as a B, though containing her had been an issue. She lurched towards the more generalized Sector E, her amorphous form easily slipping through the looser security.

And then she found her target. Alone in her cell was a strange, moth-like humanoid, her wings folded against her back. She stirred in her sleep, mumbling to herself; nocturnal instinct clashed with her human anatomy's need for rest. She had pulled the thin covers up to her chest, groaning against the flimsy mattress

The ooze shlorped down the walls, painting the concrete with an inky layer of slick black. Inching forward, the ooze vibrated excitedly as it inched closer and closer, tendrils hovering ominous above the prone bone.

And then they descended upon her. A long-hibernating instinct compelled the ooze to go for the throat first, a tendril lashing forward towards Kathryn's open mouth.

Kathryn gasped awake, choking as thick sludge poured into her mouth, preventing her from crying out. She winced, her myriad insectoid eyes piercing through the darkness to make out a vaguely humanoid shape looming over her; her arms lashed out in tendrils, wrapping and binding her arms to the bed, her legs coiling around her own as their bodies pressed together.

Their bodies rubbed together in the darkness, Kathryn rapidly overwhelmed by oozing tendrils that whipped around and explored every crevice of her body. probing her most sensitive regions as Madame Rouge tore through her clothes as well as the sheets. Kathryn moaned, her skin tingling wherever the ooze touched and wrapped around her, her legs widening as she moaned pleasurably.

Kathryn could feel the ooze hardening and gyrating, thrusting into every hole, her body hot and tingling, her breath frantic as her body shifted on its own, yielding to the slime's repeated undulations over and over again. It hugged her curves like a second layer of skin. She arched her back as the ooze caressed her, slipping through her pores.

The moth mutagen flowing through her veins reacted to the ooze. Kathryn's skin flared up to a fever pitch. She spread her legs as her entire body burned up. Her body tingled as a powerful pressure flared up from her pulsating labia. She huffed, her cheeks turning red as she felt pressure in her waist, her bones cracking as her hips grew, gyrating in pulsating motions.

As her vaginal lips spread, she swooned, a bulging mass shuddering forward, before swelling on its own from the size of a honeydew to a watermelon, and it kept on growing. It felt affixed to her womanhood, her labia ebbing away as if they were fading into her body, the bulging mass taking up more and more space on her lower body. A dimple appeared on the mass, widening and quivering. It was so sensitized, she moaned with every slight twitch it made...

"Ah... ahn... o-oh god, god!" She swooned, craning her neck back as the dimple opened, spurting strings of gooey white strands! They stuck to the far wall and quickly solidified upon contact with the air, the slick strands sticking and standing taut, stretching across her cell. She winced through bleary eyes.

Was that... silk? Like, insect silk? She thrusted her hips, biting her lips as the ooze descended upon her pulsating insect abdomen. Kathryn moaned as silk flowed freely from her distended labia, sticking everywhere. She shuffled, her body acclimating to new muscles working from within her, spinnerets from inside of her controlling the flow of silk as it stuck and draped along the walls.

As the ooze massaged her, the silk crept up her form, binding her legs together as she rolled around, flopping around the room before her view of the world inverted. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as silk plastered across her nude form, her skin rolling and expanding as the ooze toyed with her pussy and slipped deeper into her womb. She wriggled as the silk binded to her, her arms pressed against her skin.

The world darkened as she found herself trapped within a silk cocoon of her own creation. Her moans were muffled as she felt her body's tingling intensify. She didn't realize that her skin, her bones, her internal organs were melting down into an organic slurry, blending with the black ooze that enveloped her. The silk pupa pulsated, the layers of silk expanding and compressing in emphatic gyrations before slowing to a gentle pulse.

Kathryn's consciousness ebbed away, melding with the slime. From within the cocoon, she giggled. She dreamed of a sensuous woman satisfying her over and over, fondling her breasts, teasing her quivering labia, bringing her to climax over and over again, all night long. Their bodies pressed together, closer, tighter, until there was hardly any space between them.

Then there was nothing between the two women at all. The tango of two women in the throes of animalistic passion transitioned into a solo act as their consciousnesses fused with a final lusty gasp...

---

"What the hell happened here?"

Two prison guards were posted outside of Kathryn's cell. It just so happened that Kathryn was slated to be transferred to a different corner of the sector (part of a series of cell refurbishments). Kathryn was designated a low-mid level risk—more of a threat than a common bank robber, but nothing terribly concerning given proper preparations and safeguards.

Both of the guards were surprised to find the cell a complete mess. Silk layered and draped over the floor and wall, stretching in thin strands in a sticky mess. They squinted through their helmet visors, making out vague bulbous shapes within the webbing. There was a wider lump that used to be Kathyn's bed, a toilet behind a barricade...

And, most concerning, the large mass in the center of the cell, suspended from the ceiling by several, tightly-coiled strands of silk. The threads spread across the ceiling like white tendrils, and the entire mass wriggled and pulsated with movement.

"This some kind of prank?" One of the guards muttered, scratching his neck.

"The files did indicate that this chick was some kinda buggy freak." His bud speculated aloud. "Maybe her condition got worse."

"Tch. She was always a nutjob, but to take it this far..." The former guard shook his head. "Even the prison shrink would rather keep his distance."

"Because she's dangerous?" The guard cocked his head.

"Hell no." He scoffed. "Well, a bit, but more cuz she's just hugely self-centered. Like the whole planet revolves around her. Shit's insufferable."

"Ohhhhhh? Doth mine ears detect some manner of protesting?~"

The guards snapped at attention, a playful, flirtatious voice calling the both of them to attention. Their hands reached for their guns as their eyes focused squarely on the pulsating silk cocoon that dominated the center of the jail cell.

That sounded like Kathryn, though something was off. Her voice had a strange distortion to it, an echoey quality, like she performed alone in a grand hall. The cocoon shifted, a wet squelching punctuating with its movements.

"Inmate XWU-84!" One of the guards hollered. "It's time for your cell transfer! Make yourself presentable and come with us!"

"We won't ask twice!" The other guard piped in, raising his gun in turn, albeit somewhat hesitantly.

"Oho... a pair of escorts for little ol' me?~" Kathryn chuckled in her strange, otherworldly giddiness. "They really do spoil me at this facility~"

"NO BACKTALK!" One of the guards hollered. "THAT'S AN ORDER!"

They cocked their guns. The way these prison complexes were getting filled to the gills lately, nobody would bat an eyelash for a show of self-defence on the guard's part. Still, the pair of guards were... pretty anxious, their muzzles pointed at the oddly gyrating cocoon.

It burbled, swelled, supporting strands snapping away one by one, until it fell all at once...

Fwoosh!

The guards didn't expect the cocoon to suddenly rupture upon impact with the ground, nor did they expect a cloud of some powder-like substance to spread in all directions, slipping through the bars. The guards shuffled back with the sudden powder explosion, dazed by the sudden, disorientating burst.

As they regained their sight, they raised their guns again. But as the powder cleared, they found the silk cocoon ruptured. Furthermore, it was empty...!

"Awww, are you looking for me?"

The guards froze up as a familiar voice rang in their ears. It was breathy, dangerously close, barely above a sultry whisper. They cocked their heads, their gawking expressions obscured by their protective visors. Kathryn was there, the powdery fog swirling back to her form. The air was thick with powder.

She presented herself wholly in the nude, her ebony black body contrasting her vibrant orange wings. As her wings flapped, they cast aside power that clung to their suits, shifting along their form, sinking into the fibres of their protective gear.

"I think we can be a little... closer~"

The guards froze up as the dust gathered across their suits with the thickness of falling snow. Though one would wish it was as harmless as a dusting of powdery snow; she smiled wickedly as she coated the guards in her powder—it was an extension of herself, a sort of fungal growth that clung to the guards like a needy lover, tendrils extending past their protective gear, into the pores of their skin.

Her arms shifted bonelessly on their own, tenderly gripping the impressive looking guns and casting them aside as the guards remained paralyzed, poisoned by her manipulative spores. Their eyes locked onto her, expressions wrought with terror.

She licked her luscious lips, her fingers dancing playfully along their visors as she raised them. Their glassy-eyed expressions landed solely on her; she raised a finger, trailing it along as if to confirm they followed her every movement. She purred with a satisfied nod.

"Gentlemen, you only have eyes for -me-, yes?" Kathryn inquired, her eyes black as night, yet sparkling with the splendor of a thousand distant stars.

"Yes..." They murmured in unison.

She chuckled, her arms lurching forward as they coiled around her prey, holding them close to her. She wanted to ensure their eyes remained on her, and no one else...

The power that flowed through her new body... so many possibilities sprang to mind. She felt like a queen, and she was eager to make this entire prison her castle, its occupants her adoring subjects. Her abdomen twitched, the very idea exciting her on a primal, sexual level...

"Aahn!~" She moaned, arching her back as the tip of her bulbous abdomen spurted a stream of silk. She rubbed her body against the guards, her breath hot and hungry.

"Oh... I have a plan for you two...~" She purred, her voice lined with calculating menace.

[NEXT PART]