So some of you might've saw the recent announcement and reacted with a resounding "... who?" Possibly followed by a "Oh yeah, that guy. Listen, he's good at linking things and all, but what does he really know about writing? Why, he hasn't posted any new stories in years!"
To which I submit the following, a lost little piece I dashed off in 2015 or thereabouts. I was - oh, who am I kidding, I am - pretty taken with the idea of Robin the Girl Wonder patrolling the mean streets of Gotham, especially once I'd discovered Mighty Hypnotic's litany of Knightwoman videos. Heck, once in a while even the official Batman comics got in on the fun!
But none of them could precisely scratch the itch I had - an itch for cheesy-but-wholehearted derring-do, in the very best Batman '66 tradition, melded with the shameless sexual escapades that lie at the heart of all (or nearly all) superheroine peril-fiction. For a few years, I put up with this. Then some small voice in the back of my head told me, Hey, if you want it so bad, do it yerself!
Said small voice is no longer with us, due to a funny little pill they've been making me swallow since October of last year. But its legacy remains. It was originally meant to be much longer - to be six parts rather than one, in fact - but I think it works decently as a standalone. And who knows, there may come another time when I - or someone else - want those other five parts bad enough.
Till then, this will have to do...
Last edited by Disciple6 years ago, edited 2 times in total.
"And in other news, no leads have developed on the disappearance of the mysterious masked crimefighter known as the Bat-"
"Good riddance."
Robyn Madison scowled at her mother's words. Snatching up the remote for the fifty-eight-inch flatscreen, the nineteen-year-old brunette put GNN's latest broadcast on mute.
"Mom, do you know what this city's crime rates look like right now?"
"Hmph," came the sneer of her father, right on time. "That's what they get for depending on a lunatic in a Halloween costume to do their policing."
Robyn rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Her parents weren't really bad people – just a little too insulated from reality by the huge fortune her movie-star grandmother had left them. When they weren't bitching about how society was going to Hell in a handbasket, they were pretty sweet. Sweet enough to buy her most everything she wanted, and give her a generous allowance on top of that.
Come to think of it, it's kind of a miracle I'm not more like them.
She wasn't really sure why that was, given what most upper-crust kids she'd met were like. She seriously doubted that some of them could tie their shoes without ringing for Jeeves or Annette, much less pay attention to how the other half lived.
"Maybe it's just taste in role models," she said under her breath, and smiled.
That thought made her almost giddy with excitement. After months of preparation, tonight was the night she could finally give back to the community. And to her number-one inspiration.
So for the next hour or so, she flipped through the thousand-plus channels, settling on nothing in particular. Her parents eventually wandered off to the other parts of Madison Manor, maybe to nap, maybe to work on one of their many hobbies. Last she'd checked, Mom had taken up riding.
Finally, when it was nice and dark, she turned off the flatscreen and headed up the big marble staircase in the main foyer. Conveniently enough, Brooks the head maid was heading down right then.
"Hey, Brooks," she said with a wink. "Tell Mom and Dad I'll be at a friend's tonight, 'kay?"
The busty blonde nodded, and then smirked. "Another secret boyfriend?"
Robyn shrugged. "Something like that."
Brooks waved her ever-present feather duster, and continued heading down the steps. Robyn looked at the blonde's retreating form, unable to keep a smirk off her own face. Brooks was far from incompetent, but it was pretty obvious she'd been hired for her looks first. The blonde almost looked like a supermodel, with mile-long legs and a chest to kill for, not to mention a soft, utterly adorable face that could easily turn hot and seductive when it wanted to.
And on top of that, Robyn's parents often put her in scandalously short and skimpy "uniforms" when there wasn't company over. Honestly, she made Robyn look inadequate pretty damn easily, but the young brunette had never really been jealous of her. For one thing, Robyn was really no slouch in the looks department herself. For another...
"Whoa," she muttered as she saw her nipples tenting her white T-shirt. "Settle down, hormones. Now's not the time to experiment."
She ran the rest of the way up the stairs, and headed for her bedroom. It was big – maybe bigger than most people's houses, and crowded with the latest in electronic gadgets (along with more than a few stuffed animals). But right now, she had eyes for only one thing: her closet.
Robyn knew that there was probably no one watching. But she looked around anyways before slipping inside the huge, unlit walk-in closet. Secrecy was a must for her new "night job".
Inside, rows upon rows of all the latest fashions – plus some clothes she had actually picked out herself – stared at her. She ignored them all and pushed to the very back, where a flat white cardboard box and a full-body mirror were waiting for her.
She quickly stripped out of her current outfit, bra and panties included. No specific reason aside from the spur of the moment, but it made her feel... LIBERATED. For a moment, she stopped to look at her bare, luscious, nineteen-year-old body in the mirror. From chestnut brown hair to soft pink lips to bigger than average (for her age) boobs, she was a knockout.
"And a real beast in the sack, too," she giggled as she gently cupped her boobs. "At least, if my BF's have anything to say about it."
She then assumed a slightly more serious look, and opened the box. None of its contents had gone anywhere since last night, when she'd gotten the final pieces.
Gingerly, she took out the first piece: a red tunic top with yellow stitching down the middle, and short green sleeves. She slipped it over her naked torso, and found it a perfect fit, if a little itchy. Over her left breast was a black, circular patch bearing a bright yellow "R": the initial of her planned alias.
Next she lifted up a pair of short-shorts, the same green as the top's sleeves. She carefully pulled them up her long, smooth legs, and tugged them until they fit snugly between her thighs. Using them as underwear had never been part of her original plan, but she was surprised by how suitable they were.
After that, she clasped a black belt with a golden buckle around her waist. It looked nondescript and ordinary from the outside, but in truth, it was her utility belt – perhaps her most obvious homage to her idol. The belt was stocked with all kinds of essential tools and gadgets, though of course, her most invaluable tools of all were her brain and her body.
The rest of the outfit came on in a flash. Green, sock-like "booties" that protected her feet while still giving her maximum flexibility and stealth. Green gloves that guaranteed dexterity while offering padding that would protect her hands and give her punches a little more... well, punch. A bright yellow cape with a high collar, to help her cut a more impressive figure. And last, but not least...
"Exit nineteen-year-old heiress and debutante Robyn Madison," she said, baby blues shut as she pressed a green domino mask over her eyes. She steeled herself a bit while she let the spirit gum settle. "Enter... REDBIRD!"
She snapped open her eyes.
"Holy. Crap."
It was like a whole different person looking back from the mirror. Proud. Strong. Ready to go kick some criminal butt.
Leaving the manor discreetly wasn't much of a task for the beautiful brunette. Her parents were off doing God-knew-what, and Madison Manor was surrounded by thick wilderness on two sides that even their top-notch security team couldn't patrol totally. After thirty minutes of carefully navigating forests and back roads, she was roaring into Gotham City on a custom-built motorcycle.
After entering the city, she hid the motorcycle and perched on the fire escape of an old, crumbly apartment building, feeling all badass. Then she looked up into the smog-choked night sky, and saw the yellow-and-black light of the Bat-Signal. Again.
"Poor Commissioner Gordon," she said quietly.
Crime really was out of control in the city, and the police – those who weren't in cahoots with the criminals, anyway – were absolutely swamped. Police HQ had been shining that light into the sky almost every night now, with no luck. Gotham's savior was gone, possibly for good.
"Well, hope you creeps enjoyed it while it lasted," Redbird growled in determination. "There's a new savior in town."
For a brief moment, she considered going up to Police HQ to "answer" the Bat-Signal, maybe to make herself "official" to the police. But she quickly decided against it; the police didn't like to discuss their little arrangement with vigilantes at the best of times, and they probably wouldn't take a newbie with zero busts under her belt very seriously. Worst case scenario, they might even try to arrest her.
Maybe she should-
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM.
Her head jerked. Her eyes narrowed. "Showtime."
With that, she headed off in the direction of the gunshots. They sounded like they were coming from the streets, so she figured she could safely analyze the situation with minimum risk.
Soon, she'd found the source of the noise: a trio of masked men were standing right outside a convenience store, shooting it out with two cops. She shook her head. Guys who knocked over little mom-and-pop places usually didn't have the balls to confront the police head-on, but all the criminals in Gotham were a little more full of themselves these days.
The lovely brunette reached for a compartment on her utility belt, but stopped when she saw two of the robbers collapsing. The third one fell not long after.
Guess they've got it covered, she thought, not sure if she was disappointed or relieved. Then her sharp eyes spotted something. Wait!
A fourth man was escaping from the store's back door, holding a bag of something in one hand and a gun in the other. Her eyes narrowed.
Not on my watch, asshole.
She was standing on a rooftop across the street from the convenience store, but she maneuvered her way over quickly enough. Soon, she was stalking him through the shadowy back alleys, feeling the rush as he looked over his shoulder and flinched at every noise.
When he looked satisfied that no one was tailing him, he tossed his mask into a nearby garbage can and put his gun into the bag. She was about to pounce when he took out a cell phone and started yammering into it.
"Yeah... no... Eddie fucked up... what? Yeah... got the money..."
The brunette raised an eyebrow. Looks like there's bigger fish involved.
Another tingle of excitement ran through her. She wouldn't be making her heroic debut busting just one measly little holdup man. Oh, no.
Once her quarry had finished his call, he started walking at a much more relaxed pace, making it even easier for her to shadow him. Eventually, he entered an ancient-looking townhouse in one of the city's slightly better neighborhoods.
The colorfully clad brunette waited fifteen minutes, and then carefully snuck around that house until she was directly behind it. Pleasantly enough, the first window she peeked into was a jackpot. She saw two men in a decrepit old living room, smoking cigarettes. One was sitting on a couch, the other – the man she'd tailed back – pacing nervously.
"... 's not too bad. I mean, three less people to cut in," the man on the couch said.
"What if they squeal?" the pacing man asked.
"You said the cops plugged 'em, right? Be a long time 'fore any of 'em can talk. And we'll be long gone by then."
The pacing man looked a little less nervous. Redbird smirked. If only he knew...
She took a few steps back from the window, and grabbed her weapon of choice from her utility belt: a slingshot. Then she removed a silvery, marble-like device from another compartment, which she loaded into the sling and fired.
BOOM.
The glass broke on impact, and thick smoke soon filled the living room. Then came the coughs.
"Jesus Christ--!"
"What the hell---!"
She pressed herself against the ground, waiting for them to panic. And they did. Gunshot after gunshot quickly howled from the broken window, until she heard the telltale click of an empty clip.
The smoke was mostly clear by then. Without hesitation, she dove through the broken window and assumed an impressive stand: hands on hips, feet shoulder-width apart, chest thrust out.
"Ready to give up, miscreants?"
The two crooks coughed some more, before looking up at her with red, teary eyes. Their guns, emptied and useless, sat on the moth-eaten carpet.
"What the fuck?" one of them asked.
"You lookin' for the strip club?" the other threw in. "It's two blocks down."
The heroine wasn't sure whether they were serious, but it pissed her off either way. She stalked toward them, fists clenched.
"I was hoping you'd resist. Please, I need the practice."
They looked at each other again, and finally seemed to realize that she wasn't kidding. Their expressions got a lot more dangerous as they split apart and made like they were circling her.
She eyed them cautiously, watching their body language. Finally, the one on her left pounced.
"Too slow," she taunted, and leaped straight up. As he zoomed under her, she kicked out and caught him in the back of the head.
As he dropped with a pained grunt, his buddy charged in. This man was slightly bigger, and bearded to boot, but he wasn't a whole lot faster. She ducked and weaved around his punches pretty easily, occasionally striking back with a blow of her own.
"When you're ready to give up, just say the word," Redbird grinned, before kicking out again.
"How kind of you," came a voice from behind and below. In the same instant, a hand closed around her ankle.
She gasped, blood freezing. The other criminal wasn't as out as she'd thought. Now the bastard was holding one of her legs in place.
Holy reversal of fortunes!
Instinctively, she reached for her utility belt, but the bearded man charged in and clamped a big, meaty hand around her wrist. She gave out a little whimper, and had just enough time to look into his cold, amused eyes before-
WHAM.
The afterimage of a fist. Then stars. Then darkness.
When she woke up, she almost wished she hadn't.
"Mornin', sleeping beauty," the bearded man greeted with a big, toothy grin. "We took a look at your toys while you were out. Hope ya don't mind."
The brunette realized, to her annoyance, that her hands had been bound behind her back with a pair of her own cuffs. The rest of her had been tied to an old coffee table – legs to one set of the table's legs, and torso to its top. An old, filthy rag had been shoved into her mouth.
And worst of all, her utility belt was lying over a chair a good five feet away.
"Mmmf! Mmmmf!"
"Sorry," the bearded man drawled. "I don't speak Gagged Nosy Bitch."
"Man, Bill," came the other man's voice. The young brunette couldn't see him, which annoyed her. "What are you doing? We gotta get!"
The bearded man – Bill – waved a hand. "Explosions happen ev'ry night in this town, Joey. The cops are swamped with all the other hoods."
"Like they were supposed to be swamped when we knocked that place over?" Joey asked.
"Fine, Joey," Bill said. "We'll jet first thing next morning. First, though..."
He bent down and leered at her. She felt a perfect chill running through her body, and quickly found herself wishing that this were all a dream.
But it was all too real. Soon, Bill was stroking her chin with a fat finger, and patting a cheek.
"Poor kid. Thought you'd fill in for the Bat-creep, huh?"
She tried to glance away. He just laughed.
"Playin' hero in this town's a dangerous game, kid. And trust me, you were lucky to end up caught by two guys nice as us."
Joey walked into her line of sight then. Another chill went through her body when she saw that he had a gleaming revolver in one hand. Something told her that it wasn't empty anymore.
"So here's what's gonna happen," Bill said. "We're hittin' the road first thing tomorrow, and if all goes well, we ain't gonna see each other ever again. We're not gonna kill you if you don't put up a fuss, and if you're a good little girl, we won't even touch the mask."
With a start, the would-be heroine realized that her mask was still on. For now.
"But you're gonna give us somethin' in return," Bill said, his hand creeping down to his pants. To her horror, the brunette realized that there was a sizable bulge in his pants.
"Good Christ," Joey said. "Can you EVER think with something besides your dick?"
Bill slanted him a look. "And who's the guy that came up with this plan, huh? C'mon, Joe – you sayin' YOU don't want a piece of that ass?"
Robyn flushed behind her mask, but to her shame, she got a little excited, too. Neither of them were that hard on the eyes, and her teenage hormones had a habit of kicking in at the worst possible times.
I need to get a new boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Fast.
Joey still looked indecisive, but he was looking the young beauty over with slightly less nervous eyes now. Finally, he took a deep swallow and put the revolver down, before undoing his pants.
Meanwhile, Bill wandered over to her backside and patted her shapely ass, upgrading them to swats and spanks pretty quickly. Robyn squirmed and tried to not make any noise, but was only partly successful. Her pain – or was it pleasure? – threshold wasn't as high as she'd thought.
Then, a finger slipped into her short-shorts, pushed right against her slit, and started rubbing.
"Mmph."
Joey knelt down until he was eye-level with her. "I'm gonna take out the gag now, but if you try anything, the mask comes off. Got it?"
The brunette quickly nodded, half of her frozen with fear and the other half paralyzed by some dark, forbidden heat. Bill was very, VERY skilled with that finger; in a minute or so, he'd gotten her wetter and slicker than she could ever remember.
"Daaaammmmnn," Bill said appreciatively. "She wants it. Wants it BAD."
"Teenage hormones," Joey sneered. He was down to his boxers by now, and his bulge was, if anything, even bigger than Bill's.
Robyn made a small grunt as the gag was pulled away, but refrained from spitting out any of the dozen acidic remarks on the tip of her tongue. The threat of unmasking was very, very real, and even if the two men didn't know who she was, all they had to do was run an Internet search.
Have to play along for now, she thought desperately as she watched Joey tug off his boxers. Just imagine it's Kyle or Bob or one of the others...
The cock that sprang free was big – bigger than any of her boyfriends' had been. Her eyes went just a little glassy at the sight of it as darker, more forbidden thoughts began running through her head.
I got overconfident on my first night out. This is my... my punishment...
Joey inched his dick toward her slowly, carefully, as if scared she'd bite it off. In truth, that was the farthest thing from her mind. The musky, unwashed smell from him was making her brain kick into memories that had nothing to do with her many months of crimefighting training.
A soft, pink tongue peeked out and lapped at the head of Joey's dick. Then it teased and swirled, drawing the big cock closer and closer to her lovely pink lips while getting it harder and harder. Finally, the bound heroine drew it right in.
Sluuurrrp!
"Hoh, shit," Joey gasped. "This definitely ain't the bitch's first time givin' head!"
"Tell me somethin' I don't know," Bill laughed as he continued to finger her pussy. "No virgin gets THIS wet THIS fast."
"Hmmmm," the brunette beauty hummed around Joey's cock. Gulp. Slurp.
Joey liked the humming. Liked it a lot, judging by how tightly he gripped her hair. Truth was, despite how vile she intellectually knew him to be, Robyn liked it a lot too.
"Okay, that's enough prelim'naries," Bill chuckled from behind. "Here comes the main course!"
"Hmmm?"Slurp. Slurp.
"You just keep on keepin' on," he said, and pulled her short-shorts as far as they would go down her spread-wide legs. "I'LL take care of the HARD part."
With that, the filthy dog put his hands on her round, bare ass and THRUST.
"Hnnnnnggghhh!!!" she cried around Joey's dick. She knew Bill would be big, but not THAT big. It almost felt like she was being split in half.
"C'mon, chickie!" Bill laughed. "I know you can take it! Wiggle them hips! C'mon!"
She did as told, and felt the pain recede a little. But only a little. Bill was pretty damn ruthless, and she didn't even want to think about what would've happened if he was the first guy to fuck her.
But quickly – maybe a little too quickly – the pain began to melt back into pleasure. Bill found himself a sweet rhythm and stuck to it, and to her mingled pleasure and shame, her own body fell into that rhythm. While her pussy tightened around Bill's dick, determined to milk out every drop of ecstasy, her mouth kept working on Joey's dick, humming and purring and sucking like a top-notch whore.
She wasn't quite sure when Joey screamed in orgasm and pulled out, but his nailing her in the face – right between the eyes, in fact – with his hot seed was quite a shock. Ew! Gross!
But that shock was quickly replaced by a bigger, even more intimate one: the feelings of bliss rolling through her stomach had been growing all the time, and now, finally, they convalesced into one big, white-hot unstoppable rush to ORGASM.
"AIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!!! Holy SHIT!"
Her orgasm wound up hastening Bill's. About ten seconds of humping later, the filthy crook pulled out and sprayed her butt cheeks with his hot seed, laughing all the while.
Bastards! she thought as she lay in her bonds, panting. There was more than just a thin layer of sweat all over her. She was going to need two, maybe three showers to get their stink off.
With hooded blue eyes, she watched as they high-fived each other, condescendingly patted her head and praised her "talent", and went into the kitchen. Probably getting fueled up for round two.
Hope you boys don't mind waiting twenty-five years to life for that, she thought with a wicked grin as soon as they'd left. The idiots had been smart enough to remove her belt, but they'd failed to check her gloves. One of which held a master key to her cuffs while the other held a tiny blade.
It wasn't easy maneuvering her bound hands enough to get the tools, much less positioning the tools enough to actually put them to use. But she'd trained thoroughly for escapes like these, and fear – not to mention humiliation and a strong thirst for payback – boosted her speed even more.
Still, she had just tugged her shorts up when Bill and Joey came back, sandwiches and beer in hand. Without thinking, she grabbed the first thing she saw – an ashtray – and hurled it.
KLANG!
"Guuh..." Joey gurgled, and dropped like a rock.
Bill just stood there and goggled at his fallen partner. Big mistake. Teeth gritted, the teenage heroine flung herself across the room in a flying kick and planted her foot in Bill's face.
KRAK!
"There," she said to herself, dusting her hands as she looked over the two unconscious men. She took no chances this time, binding the men with her handcuffs AND the rope they'd used on her. Only then did she dial the police, and give the address of the house and the fruits of her little investigation.
"May I ask who this is?" the dispatcher asked as she was about to hang up.
A little jolt of bravado reentered her. "Gotham's newest defender. Robyn-"
She caught herself, but it was too late. How could she have let her civilian ID slip out so easily?
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