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It was a fine, sunny Wednesday afternoon in Gotham City. The kind of day that made every Gothamite wish it was Sunday. A great day for Madam Zamires grand showing of her world famous Catalonian cats eye opal collection.

"Now, Madam Zamire, your cats eye opals are valued at over ten million dollars, arent you afraid someone might steal them?" asked the reporter who was buzzing around the aged millionaires with a plethora of other reporters like excited bees over a jar of honey.

"Oh no," arrogantly giggled the giddy madam. "Why, my opals are protected by the most stringent security measures available. Here let me show you," and with that the crowd of reporters and the portly millionaires headed for the precious gems room of the Gotham City natural history museum.

As they reached the door to the room, Madam Zamire stopped the crowd. "As you can see, the hall containing the opals is sealed with two inches of plate steel and the main door is made of five inch steel plate. Not even a tank could get through," she explained. "There are also no other doors and no windows. There is absolutely no way to gain entry into the chamber except through this door," she boasted.

As Madam Zamire described the security measures outside the main door to the gem chamber, inside, smoke began to rise from the floor of the great hall. A circular pattern of wispy smoke began to rise from the tiled floor along with a hissing, crackling sound. After a few moments, the circular block fell through as the acid bored a hole through the floor.

"Even if a criminal managed to enter the chamber, any change in air pressure would instantly release anesthetic gas that would render them unconscious and helpless," the madam continued.

The top of a ladder popped through the hole as waves of billowing gas poured from gas outlets in the wall. The head of a man, wearing a divers tank and oxygen breather poked up and scanned the room. He then climbed out of the hole and helped two other men up the ladder.

"What if they could get past the gas," asked a reporter. "What then?"

"Oh, you silly man," the madam replied, "It would do them no good. The glass of the cases is made of a new, high tech plastic. They are virtually unbreakable."

The three men proceeded to apply an unusual paste to the plastic cases. They smeared the white paste about as though they were waxing a car. After a few moments, the polymer disolvant began to weaken the plastic and the men poked their hands through the soft material as easily as punching a hole through a plastic bag.

"Even if they could open the cases, which I seriously doubt, they could not remove the opals from their placements," the madam continued.

"And why is that, Madam Zamire?" asked the reporter.

"Oh, we have a very special device that puts a magnetic field around the opals, making it virtually impossible to remove them. No force in the universe could budge themnothing except a major power outage and Gotham Citys power supply is the most reliable in the world," she gleamed.

A few blocks away, a small explosion blew the top off a power pole. Sparks flew everywhere as the large metal power transformer was blown off its support and crashed to the ground. Three men ran from the pole and piled into a small truck sitting on the other side of the street. The trucks tires squealed as the truck pulled away and headed down the hill toward a dark Gotham downtown.

At that same moment, all the lights in the museum went out. The crowd began to scream and panic as confusion and fear enveloped them along with the darkness. After a few moments passed, a series of emergency red fire lights came on.

"We have a spare generator," explained the madam. "Guard, open this door immediately!" she ordered.

Two guards ran up and fiddled with a set of keys as they hurriedly opened the massive door. The door swung open and the crowd stood in absolute shock as they stared at all the empty cases.


"Tis a dark day in Gotham City, Commissioner," said Chief OHara as he stood shaking his head in despair watching the gray-haired Gordon hang up the phone.

"A dark day indeed, Chief OHara," replied the Commissioner. "A fortune in cats eye opals, purloined by none other than"

"Oh, dont say it, Commissioner. Me ears cannot stand the strain," said the Chief waving his hands.

"Im afraid so Chief. Snatched by the criminal claws of that feline felon. That she-devil of crimenone other than Catwoman!"

"Saints preserve us!" the Chief exclaimed, rolling his eyes upward. "Is there any chance for us? Have the heavens opened up and swallowed all our hopes?" he asked, looking in despair at the powers that be.

Looking outward with a stare of determination and defiance the Commissioner sat up from his chair.

"Theres just one man who can help us now. The one man who can rid this town of that feline scourge." With that, both men turned to stare at the red phone of hope that sat under the glass container across the room.


"If you will wait a moment sir, I will see if I can gain his attention," Alfred said calmly, in a thick proper English accent, as he answered the batphone.


The batmobile shot out of the batcave and raced down the wrong side of the road toward Gotham City. It was as though the same footage was being played over and over again, each time they had to run into town. The big, black car pulled up in front of police headquarters and the caped crusaders rushed into the building.

"Did anyone actually see Catwoman or any of her kittens steal the opals?" asked Batman.

"Well, no Batman but this is her style," the Commissioner replied.

"Yes, her modus operandi," smugly blurted out the boy wonder.

"Modus Operandi?" asked the Chief in utter bewilderment.

"Yes, Modus, from the Latin meeting motive or mode and Operandi meaning operation. Her mode of operation," replied Robin as he drove the fact home by punching his fist into his hand.

"Very good Latin, old chum. But what we need now are clues and not a Latin lesson," said Batman as he and Robin headed for the door.

"Are you heading for the Batcave" asked Commissioner Gordon?

"Yes, and then well check out the museum. There may be clues still left there," Batman replied.

"But me men went over the place with a fine tooth comb. Not even a microbe could get by us," the Chief said.

"While I never doubt the competency of Gotham Citys finest Chief, Catwoman is a foe far beyond the abilities of your fine force to catch," Batman said as he opened the door. The Chief shook his head in agreement knowing the Caped Crusader was right.

"Catwoman!" a startled female voice exclaimed from the open doorway. The four men turned to see Commissioner Gordons lovely daughter, Barbara, standing in the entrance. She briskly walked by Batman and Robin and walked up to her father, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Whats all this talk about Catwoman?" Barbara asked innocently, batting her big brown eyes at the men.

"Oh, nothing to concern your pretty little head about Barbara. Batman and Robin were just leaving to check out the opal robbery at the museum," said Commissioner Gordon patronizingly.

He always did that to her, always cut her out of the picture like she was some innocent little schoolgirl. At first she hated it and resisted it but she learned that should could use that innocence to her advantage. The whole act seemed to be a vicious circle. As she acted more angelic, her father would treat her more childishly. This would force her to act more innocently to get more information out of him. It seemed stupid but it worked. If only you knew some of the stuff I do in my apartment daddy, she thought to herself in defiance.

"Well, I was just on my way home from work and I thought Id ask you to dinner," she asked, knowing he would say no. He always said no to any socializing when an arch criminal was in town. She actually wasnt headed to go to dinner. Instead, she had heard about the robbery and was hoping to turn on the innocent act to milk some information from daddy.

"Oh well, Ive got some reading to do anyway," she said indifferently as she gave her father another peck on the cheek and strutted out the door past Batman and Robin.


The door to Barbaras apartment flew open as the young heroine rushed in and made a beeline for the bedroom. "No time to chat now Charley," said Babs as she threw her purse and coat on the couch and walked past the birdcage containing her pet parrot.

The parrot never seemed to talk, being utterly confused by the spew of dialog that always came from its owner. For some reason Barbara would talk to the bird, needlessly revealing her plans to the pet parrot. Of course the ever-changing dialog made it impossible for the bird to learn any word or phrase. The only thing it had managed to learn over the years was one phrase: "Oh MY GOD!" This phrase was the only one loud enough and repeated enough times to reinforce it in the birds mind. This only happened however, when Barbara would get in one of her "special moods", then the bedroom door would shut and waves of moans and screams would ring out as Barbara would "entertain" herself.

She had always been extremely introverted. As a child she was a loner and a bookworm, always reading and never making friends. When she grew up and graduated from college, she found that her body had developed quite well and, dressed right, she was extremely attractive.

Her early life, however, had turned her off to dating men and she found that masturbation was a far better form of sexual stimulation along with her unusual fascination with bondage. For some reason, being bound and gagged and forced to climax against her will was an incredible aphrodisiac to her and sent incredible chills of sexual excitement through her body. Was it a rape fantasy? She didnt know or care. It was fun and exciting and allowed her to break the mold everyone else had placed upon her all her life. Daddys sweet little girl was actually very naughty, and the secret made her burn with excitement.

This was also partially why she was fascinated with her Batgirl persona. Being in such perilous situations, at the hands of such desperate criminals, made for an overwhelming array of titillating experiences. When she was younger, no one paid attention to her. She was a bug, an insect to be ignored. After spending time working out and aerobisizing constantly, however, she became an incredibly shapely young girl and exhibitionism was also quite exhilarating. Ha ha, Im pretty now and you cant have me! She would think to herself.

This was why she had modified her Batgirl outfit. The old one was functional but quite drab. She felt that, if she could distract a crook for a few moments with a few curves and some revealing skin, she could use the time to her advantage. This seemed to work quite well, as most men would stop in gaping awe at the female before them, allowing her to easily get the upper hand.

The full body suit was eliminated. Instead, the suit was split into two parts. The top part was a black spandex pull over that resembled an aerobics exercise outfit. It covered her arms completely and ran to the middle of her rib cage, leaving her stomach and bellybutton exposed. The front was bare and a black support bra under the outfit pushed her full breasts together into a nice, mountain of cleavage. The outfit continued up her neck and stopped below her chin, making her look like she was wearing a turtle neck sweater. A small yellow Bat symbol was stitched over her left breast in the material that ran up and around her shoulder.

The bottom half was a pair of black, spandex shorts that came up to just below her belly button and rode around the curvature of her legs, where her upper thighs met her hips. This left her legs and thighs fully exposed.

On her feet she wore a pair of high-heeled boots that laced up from her ankles to just below her knees. Her hands were covered by a pair of black, skintight leather gloves, which ran up her arms to just below her shoulders. The only thing that shed kept from the original outfit was her Batgirl utility belt, which hung low and heavy across her curvaceous stomach and around her shapely hips.

She had decided to do away with the heavy Bat cowl she always wore. It was clumsy, hot and didnt allow for a full range of vision. Instead, a black mask, similar to Robins only with larger, more feminine looking eyeholes, took its place. The red wig was also eliminated and her own short, black hair was pinned like a crown on top of her head. She found that most crooks were way too busy looking at her body to notice her face; and besides, no one could figure out who Robin was and he only wore that stupid little mask.

The final touch was a small, black silk cape that wrapped around her neck and flowed down to the small of her back, hanging just over her plump rear end. She grabbed the ends of the cape in each hand and twisted and posed in the full- length mirror in her bedroom like some sophisticated fashion model. Then with a giddy, school girl laugh she strutted away, heading for the secret entrance to her Batcycle.

"Ill just beat Batman and Robin to the museum and find my own clues," she declared as the cycle rolled out of its secret door and down the alley.


The Batmobile sped out of town and toward the Batcave. "What do you think Catwoman is up to, Batman," Robin said, slamming his fists together like he always did.

"I dont know, old chum," replied Batman, "the ways of a wicked woman such as Catwoman cannot be easily deduced. This youre going to learn as you grow from a boy to a man," he said fatherly.

"Gosh, Batman, this woman stuff really baffles me sometimes," Robin said shaking his head.

"Dont worry, Im sure the Bat-female-logic-analyzer I built into the Bat computer last week will figure out her logic and her next move," he said proudly. "Or blow up trying" he mumbled under his breath.

Suddenly, a large explosion rang out from under the speeding Batmobile, sending the caped crusaders swerving out of control. "Hang on Robin!" Batman ordered as the car careened off a cliff and plummeted into the trees below.
the first part to batgirl and catwomans exciting day
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