Gotham City
* This story is dedicated to my old work colleague Sonia, who taught me that there were lots of DC/Marvel cross-overs, and one day a certain company might buy another company… **
To say Bruce Wayne was a serious man, was quite the understatement. Whether it was the result of his parent’s death at an early age, the responsibility of running a corporation as large as Wayne Inc, his stewardship of Dick Grayson, or his secret identity as Batman the protector of Gotham… he was never sure. But there was no place in his life for fun, frivolity, or misbehaviour. Even his famous dalliances with the daughters of Gotham’s great and good, gave him little chance for relief. The only escape he ever had from this overwhelming pressure came in a cave, deep under Wayne Manor. And no, it wasn’t the Batcave. This cave was secondary to that, accessible only through a secret entrance behind one of his bat suits.
In this cave were a number of items that Bruce had crafted all by himself. All possessed the famed bat logo but were not items that would have been any use fighting off villains. You see, it had all begun with an innocent accident… a prostrate exam from his doctor that had stimulated him more than he’d expected. Bruce Wayne knew human physiology better than his doctors – the visit was more to sate his shareholders than anything else – and he knew enough about prostrate stimulation. But until it happened, quite by accident, he’d thought little of it. He’d come home, gone straight to his workshop and crafted his very first dildo, leaving on the bat logo just in case he had to explain it away. Over the following months that initial dildo was followed by several others – each larger than the one before – and then a string of anal beads, nipple clamps with bat logos, a cocktail mixer – in reality, a tool for sounding – and even a little bat cock cage. Playing with them was almost as fun as looking at them, and Bruce couldn’t decide what was more arousing. But what was true, was that it made him ferociously horny to abuse himself sexually whilst being surrounded by the logo that he often felt trapped by.
By nature, a cautious man, Bruce knew he could not risk being caught doing this, so he built a secret lair, not even telling his faithful family butler Alfred Pennyworth, about it. Playing with these toys in his secret lair gave him great pleasure and relief in the form of amazing orgasms. It also sent waves of shame over him afterwards, which propelled him back out into the world to do good, to arrest criminals, and to keep his secrets from the world.
Perhaps Bruce saw the problem in him hiding his desires away from the rest of the world, but he was Bruce Wayne, master of Gotham City, the Dark Knight himself. No one understood the darkness he had to endure. And if it meant that his only pleasure could come from nipple clamps and a huge dildo, well that was the cross he had to bear. It took him a few years though, to appreciate that he was not alone with this need for darkness. Gotham had more than its fair share of depraved sexual outlets, how could it not? For a long time, the Batman had gazed down at these venues and their participants with disgust, whilst Bruce Wayne gazed more with sympathy at these failings of humanity. But very occasionally, very occasionally, when his desire became too much for even him to bear, he would visit one. In disguise of course and staying just long enough to taste the thrill of the pain, coupled with the risk of being caught.
Through these occasional explorations, he heard of a club that specialised in some rather unusual nights. One night in particular, featured every member wearing bat masks. The idea horrified and appalled him in equal measure, that the symbol of his defence of Gotham had been turned into a sexual fetish. And yet the thought of going there himself thrilled him beyond belief. He resisted for a while, but all the time, in his super-secret Batcave, he crafted a special bat mask that he could wear, as the real one remained attached to his suit. He scoped the site out, watched who entered, and eventually made his move. As soon as he appeared at the door, his batmask attached, he was waved in, the door slamming behind him. As his eyes adjust to the dark, he became aware that it was basically one long corridor with doorways on either side. Bruce cautiously opened several, taking in the depravity of BDSM play by people in Batman masks. What he saw he told himself was disgusting, but he could not deny that it also aroused him. He took off his shirt and flexed his huge upper body, which was enough to have other participants calling out for him to join in. But instead, he sneered behind the mask and kept on moving. Even if he didn’t know it, he knew that when he saw what he was looking for, he would feel it in his bones. Finally, the very last door – just at the point where he was ready to give up and go home – revealed a Saint Andrew’s cross, and two large, muscled thugs punishing some slender man. Almost as soon as Bruce opened the door to gaze, the encounter seemed to end, and the weeping, sodomised young man was untied and lead away. The door closed behind him, and Bruce suddenly found himself shirtless, staring at the cross, with these two thugs in Batman masks and leather harnesses, looking back at him hungrily.
“What about you, pretty boy?” One of them sneered. “You want a ride on our cross?”
Bruce said nothing, finding himself paralysed with desire. He’d probably need to see these two with their masks off, but he could hazard a guess that at some stage he’d arrested them for some petty misdemeanour.
“What a pretty muscle boy,” one of them sneered when he didn’t speak. The other simply walked towards him, and before Bruce could react, he slammed against him, twisting one arm behind his back, and locking the door at the same time.
“Hey, pretty muscle boy. You want some fun?” He growled, his sweaty body pressed against Bruce, who gasped at the unexpected pain. He tried to struggle, but he’d been so dazed by the experience, he’d ceded too much control, and now to struggle seemed foolish.
“Hell yeah, he does,” the first one laughed. He joined his associate pushing Bruce against the locked door, and from somewhere he removed a knife that cut through Bruce’s trousers without much effort. Being stripped by these two thugs felt amazingly arousing, and while one part of his mind continued to fight against the thugs, the other part lifted his heels to allow them to remove his shoes.
“No, no, no!’ Bruce found himself weakly begging, as the two beefy thugs dragged him back across the room, slamming him against the Saint Andrew’s cross, shackling his hands to the top. “I don’t want…” Bruce started to scream before he was silenced by a gag being thrust in him mouth. “The fucker makes a lot of noise, don’t he?”
“He’ll be making a lot more in a minute,” the other laughed harshly, as they then shackled Bruce’s ankles to the remaining ends of the cross.
Panic rushed through the superhero, as he suddenly realised, he was shackled without any way to escape. Weirdly it only now occurred to him that no villain at any time over all the years had ever thought to strip him naked. Maybe, his addled mind concluded, they were fetishized by the costume as much as he was. As much as everyone in this town seemed to be. He felt a bead of sweat emerge from beneath his mask and slide all the way down his back until it crested his buttocks and slid between his cheeks. He shivered and fought against the chains, which only made the thugs laugh even more.
“Geez. What a fucking baby,” one said. “Let’s give him some real pain and see what he says then.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” the other growled, and suddenly there was a whoosh, and the leather whip flew through the air, cracking against Bruce’s buttocks.
The wealthiest man in Gotham screamed, but no sounded emerged, as he could only scream into the gag. The whip cracked down again and again on him, alternating between his back and his buttocks, with the tip often perilously close to his balls. He gasped and fought but the shackles held fast. His body tingled with arousal and yet it took minutes to realise that his cock was actually hard and rubbing against the intersection of the cross.
“How do you feel, ‘batman’?” One of the thugs teased, as he roughly pulled out the gag. “How does it feel to be caught, stripped and beaten by two lowly villains?”
“No. Please no,” Bruce begged.
“What a baby. Already begging to be let go,” the other snorted in derision. “I thought the Dark Knight was stronger than that. Do you reckon he’ll cry out for his mummy soon?” And both of them laughed harshly.
Bruce hung his head in shame. How was he so easily defeated? Was he truly this pathetic? He lifted his head in defiance and snarled back. “Ohhh, pretty muscle boy’s got some backbone in him after all,” one of the thugs said, almost impressed. The gag was shoved back in, and the whipping continued. Nipple clamps were added, followed by weights attached to his balls. His hard cock was forced into a cage, and the first butt plug was inserted to stretch him out. But no matter the pain, Bruce gritted and bore it. He let free with the screams, but when asked, he simply told his new masters to keep going. The two thugs kept at it, seeming also to have no limit to their skills. Eventually though, they decided a new level was needed. Weakened, Bruce had no energy to fight them as they uncoupled him from the cross. He crumpled to the floor where both of them unzipped their leather pants and pissed over him, the acrid smell of the urine splashing over his body and the evil taste reaching his mouth. “Com’n pretty baby. Time for your next pleasure,” one of the thugs said, and showing impressive strength, he hoisted Bruce’s muscular body from the ground onto his shoulders. Because they too had Batman masks on, Bruce felt his mind swim as all he saw were his mask floating before him. He was taken into a bigger room that he had not even realised existed, where many other naked men, also in bat masks, were fucking. The level of depravity around him was appalling and yet arousing. In his addled mind he could swear he was seeing all his darkest fantasies being acted out at the same time, as if someone had tapped directly into his mind. Or was he just that basic, he wondered?
In the centre of the room was an old gym pommel horse, and unable to resist, he found himself being strapped across it lengthways. Another thug, also in a bat mask, approached. He was even bigger than the other two but wore a leather apron and gloves, to go along with the leather trousers. “So, this is the famous Batman,” he sneered. He reached out and plucked the gag from Bruce’s mouth.
“Thank you,” Bruce gasped, his jaw had been aching so much, it was all he could think to do.
“Ha!” The man laughed. “I’m only doing it so that we can hear you scream. You put my brother away for life. You should know, you’re going to feel the pain I’ve felt.”
In his dulled mind, Bruce had to give whoever ran this club points for staying true to the fantasy, it was as if they all believed he was the real Batman. And yet he and the other thugs, along with everyone else in the club were wearing Batman masks. Did they all fancy themselves as Batman? Or was it just a turn-on for them? Bruce struggled to appreciate why anyone saw what he did as sexual. Yes, he admitted, it turned him on to tear at the fabric of his life, but that had more to do with the public role he occupied, and what he was forced to hide for the sake of it. What was everyone else’s fantasy?
All of this distracted him from the sight of the leather-wearing thug covering his glove in Crisco. It was only when he heard the words, “Remove the butt plug,” that his addled mind came together.
“Wait! Wait!” He panicked.
“Too late for that Batboy!” The thug laughed. There was a ‘pop’ as the butt plug came out, and before long that empty feeling was replaced by one, two, three, four fingers.
“Fuckkkkk!” Bruce Wayne yelled, as the whole hand made a remorseless progression up his anal canal. As the hand began to fuck him, he started to squeal and scream. “No, no, please no. I can’t take it.”
“And yet your dick tells another story.” A new voice said.
He hadn’t even noticed that his cock had been released from its cage and that it was rock-hard, and batting harmlessly against the pommel horse. He felt tears come to his eyes as his arsehole stretched in ways he couldn’t imagine. “Fuck! Please stop. No more, no more,” he found himself sobbing. “But doesn’t this turn you on?” The mystery voice hissed. “We can all see that it makes you hard. Surely you can too?”
Bruce could swear he knew who the voice belonged to, but his mind was too addled to work out who. Despite the savaging of his arse, he felt his cock throb all by itself. As his mind struggled with these conflicting demands, he found his body tingling, as if every nerve ending was in action. As if he was building to the biggest orgasm he’d ever felt.
“Look boss,” one of the thugs whispered. “He’s pushing back. He’s trying to fuck himself on my fist.”
“Boss?” Bruce whimpered. He had no idea why that word terrified him, but it did.
“I told you not to call me that!” The voice that he was struggling to pin down, snapped angrily. This tone, this declaration, seemed to create a singular moment in time, and everyone inside the sex club seemed to stop what they were doing. “Oh, what the hell,” and the mystery voice cackled. Suddenly there were gunshots and the mystery voice became angry, snarling, “Party’s over children. The last one out gets a bullet in their brain.” Bruce struggled against the shackles but there was no escape. He desperately looked from side to side, but all he saw were nude bodies in bat masks, scurrying to escape any which way they could. The three thugs who’d been torturing him, however, did not seem to move and the fourth body, this one he now realised was dressed in a garish suit, walked up to him and lifted Bruce’s face with his finger, so he could see his captor. “Hello batty-boy!” The man laughed. “See what I did there? Batty-boy. Ha! How have I never thought to call you that before? I could have had you rebranded years ago. Now that would have shut you down, wouldn’t it…” and he lowered his voice to a whisper, before he ripped the mask off his prisoner’s face, and asked, “Bruce?”
“I always knew you were Batman!” The Joker hissed, as he splayed himself louchely over a chair while a handcuffed and shackled Bruce Wayne was forced to kneel at his feet. “But I couldn’t prove it, I could never get that one piece of evidence to prove it. Who knew it would be a sex club that would be your downfall?”
“You can’t prove I’m Batman. Just because I had a silly mask on…” Bruce Wayne was forcing his defiance back to the surface.
The Joker was silenced for a moment. “That’s true,” he admitted. “But I don’t need to. What I do have is many, many, many pictures of the scion of Gotham wealth Bruce Wayne, being debased at a grimy sex club. And that could get me almost anything I want.”
“I’ll say it wasn’t me. I’ll say its fake pictures. It might live with me for a while, but I’ll fight it,” Bruce defiantly growled.
“Oh my, you are a fierce little tiger,” the Joker laughed, shaking the chain that was clipped to the collar around Bruce’s throat. “But Brucey-baby, you don’t understand. I’m here to help you. I can give you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams, all the things you’ve long lusted for. You clearly love a bit of BDSM, and why shouldn’t you? All that pressure you carry on your shoulders. And here I have the best club there is, right here, just for you. I can give you every fetish you want, even ones you don’t know you have, and no one else has to suspect a thing. We can dress you up as the batman and you can be fucked and humiliated to your heart’s desire. OK, so I’ll earn a good little fortune off you, but we all know that’s fair as well.”
“You arsehole,” Bruce snarled. “You’ll never…”
“This is boring me,” the Joker’s humour turned. “Now, where’s that damn control?” And suddenly out of the gloom a TV switched on. “Let me watch my favourite channel while my captive bat cowers at my feet.”
The screen was huge, the quality of the feed impressive, and no one could deny that it wasn’t Alfred, Bruce Wayne’s loyal butler, and Dick Grayson, his ward and secret sidekick Robin, kissing.
“Oh my God!” The Joker squealed like a teenage girl watching boy-on-boy romance. “They’re going to do it. Isn’t it hot?”
Bruce Wayne could not answer. His mind was stymied by what he was seeing. Not just the fact that the two people he was closest to were kissing each other as part of a passionate embrace, but also that they were doing it in his super-secret private lair that no one knew about. Except that clearly both of them knew about it, and in a moment of dawning realisation, so did The Joker. No wonder he was so sure that Bruce Wayne was Batman. And that Bruce would be seduced by a batman-themed sex club.
“I imagine you’re now wondering how I have this feed?” The Joker stroked his chin. “Could it have been the result of you not trusting your helpful butler Alfred – in case you’ve forgotten he’s the one undressing your underage ward on the screen right there – you not getting Alfred to build this part of the lair, and hiring a contractor, I want to say… Bob, to do it for you? Of course, it was easy to bribe Bob to put in a camera for me that even you didn’t know about. But don’t worry. Bob’s dead now.”
Bruce hung his head, not knowing what to do.
“Oh look!” The Joker demanded. “They’re about to do it! Let’s zoom in.” And he yanked the chain attached to the collar around Bruce’s neck, pulling him closer to the screen, as the chair he was seated on, rolled over. Alfred and Dick were rapidly removing their clothes, as they continued to kiss and embrace. Forced to look, he could not but feel jealous at how genuine their love appeared. Alfred guided Dick to Bruce’s workbench desk, and his young ward demonstrated his acrobatic flexibility, by swinging his foot onto the bench, and pushing his arse backwards. “What do you think people will say when they see your butler fucking your underage ward?” The Joker leered. “He’s not underage,” Bruce growled. “What they do in their own time is their own choice.”
“That might be true,” The Joker mused, “But what do you think people will say when they see this footage? What do you think it will do your reputation? Will they think you were a good ward when you took that child in?” And he paused long enough before adding, “What do you think will happen to Alfred and Dick? They’ll probably have to flee the city.”
Bruce Wayne bowed his head in defeat. “What do you want?”
“Now we’re talking. Everyone says you’re a good negotiator. There are a number of little commercial undertakings that I need you to turn the other cheek to. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know in advance which ones. And in exchange for that, I won’t release any of this footage. But I will expect you to visit my little sex club on a regular basis. And you don’t need to worry; I’ll have a Batman outfit for you. You don’t even need to bring your own.”
“Ahhh. The gymnasium!” Hercules declared, as they opened the door to Graveyard Gym, located in a particularly dank part of the warehouse district in Gotham City. “I cannot wait to throw the diskos, to discuss philosophy. To wrestle naked.”
“Bro,” Thor rolled his eyes. “It’s not that sort of gym…”
“Now, where is the little man who will lather me up and then scrape the oil off my body?” Hercules said, looking from left to right, and breaking the turnstile as he walked right past the reception desk.
Thor sighed. He’d never thought of himself as the smartest person in the room. He’d never needed to. But with this himbo by his side, he was starting to concede he might have to be.
“So, what’s the plan?” Hercules said, as he did bicep curls with the forty kg weights as if they were nothing.
“This is the gym that the villain we’re investigating, owns,” Thor explained, as he pulled off his shirt, and tucked it into the back of his pants. “And this is where he recruits his henchmen from. If we train here, we should get noticed without a problem.”
“Nice!” Hercules grinned, as he continued to lift. “And humans really do this all the time?” he asked, a little dumbfounded. He’d never actually had to exercise like this before. His body was a result of all the battles he’d fought. But he could see that he was getting attention, which was something that he craved, and this new-fangled gym thing was great fun. Super easy too!
Thor put his weights down and snarled at the mirror while he flexed. There were two men looking their way, the sort of thugs he’d usually end up smacking with Mjolnir. This might be easier than he’d thought. Luckily Dr Strange had given them plenty of information to help them tackle this first mission. The second one, they were warned would not be so easy. Somehow the Master of the Mystic arts knew who the villains were in this Gotham City – which looked very much like parts of New York City on a bad day, Thor decided – and somehow, he knew the Batman’s secrets too. If he wasn’t so confident in his own body, Thor might feel a bit suspicious that Dr Strange might have been spying on them. And that just made you think of all the slightly embarrassing moments in life… like the time he’d farted when Heimdall was fucking him. I mean they’d laughed about it at the time, but even today, he found himself blushing at the memory.
“You lads need to make some easy money?” A voice growled at him, Thor almost dropping the weights in his hand. The two gentlemen than he’d considered easy targets for Mjolnir, were suddenly standing right beside them. Thor looked a bit stunned for a second, and so it was Hercules who jumped in.
“Always, bro!” He declared. “What you got in mind?”
Bruce Wayne sat in the lounge of Wayne Mansion pretending to read the Gotham Gazette. Alfred Pennyworth and Dick Grayson sat opposite each other on separate lounges, Alfred reading a book of poetry and Dick was on his phone, probably posting pictures on social media, as he remained determined for it to be known he had the hottest arse in all of Gotham. Bruce had read the same line four times, so distracted by his situation was he. He’d been returned to Wayne Manor the night before, naked with his hands tied behind his back. He’d been able to gain entry to his cave, and remove his restrains before being seen, but he knew it was not the end to his trauma. An unknown number texted him that night, informing him that he’d be summoned to the club again the following weekend, with a further message that would arrive later to signal the time he should arrive.
That whole week he was terrified, unable to undertake any but the simplest of Batman missions, concerned that any one of them could be by The Joker’s gang. At no time was he contacted and told not to intervene, but it didn’t stop him panicking that he would be told after the fact and then be punished. It was therefore easier just to do nothing. He was moody and snippy with Alfred and Dick too, watching them with an eagle-eye for any behaviour that might prove to him that they had been conducting their affair under his very nose without him knowing. Of course, nothing they did seemed inappropriate, but at the same time he could see how close they were, how genuinely friendly the two of them where. And it made him bitterly jealous. ‘How was it,’ he fumed, ‘That he had sacrificed his personal life for the greater good, and yet those who worked for him, and with him, did not?’
When he thought they weren’t watching him, he glared at them both. ‘Probably planning to fuck each other when I leave,’ he grumbled to himself. ‘The moment I’m out the door, sacrificing myself for the greater good, they’ll be all over each other.’
“I’m making a cup of tea,” Alfred announced. “Master Grayson, can I get anything?”
“I’ve told you before, Alfred. You don’t need to wait on me,” Dick protested. “I like to do things for you, Master Dick,” Alfred protested. “It makes me happy.”
Bruce snorted, and the other two looked at him in shock. “You would not believe what the police commissioner said,” Bruce quickly said. It was a good line. The police commissioner was always guaranteed to say something outrageous.
“And for you, Mr Wayne?” Alfred said, concern crossing his face.
“A tea as well, please. Whatever blend you’re having,” Bruce quickly said. Alfred nodded and he and Dick turned to leave. ‘How could I be bitter about the love the two of them had found?’ Bruce asked himself. As much as it was true that he had made sacrifices, it did not equate that they needed to. And if he needed to sacrifice himself for their love, well he would do that. As his phone buzzed, summoning him to play for The Joker, he realised that he would do anything for the people he loved.
“It’s good to see you’re a man of your word, Brucey-baby,” the Joker chuckled as he arrived at the downtown club.
Bruce just grunted, as he removed his clothes, handing them to two even bigger henchmen than the last time, who were wearing bat masks and leather trousers. “And I expect you to keep yours too, Joker. It’s just you, and me, right?”
“Of course,” The Joker purred. “As you can see, I’ve even brought in a whole new team to pleasure you; I’ve gone right to the top. Now put these on,” and he handed Bruce a sequinned bat mask, a black jockstrap, and cuffs around his wrists, which linked to a chain in front of him. “I see you’ve been very good this week,” he laughed mirthlessly. “Staying out of my business. In fact, you’ve been extra, super good, and stayed out of everyone’s business. Which shows to me that you are not only a man of your word, but you want to be part of something bigger. Now, come with me, my sexy little batty boy,” and The Joker took the chain, leading him through the velvet curtains and into another room. “So, everyone wanted to say thank you. And who was I to disappoint?” He cried, as the lights were switched on, and Bruce realised with horror that it was not just the two of them. But all the other leading villains from Gotham were sitting there.
“Gentleman of Gotham,” The Joker declared. “I present to you my club’s newest attraction. It is of course, The Batman,” he hissed. “Available tonight and every night, just for your pleasure.”
“I’ll fuck him with my latest umbrella!” The Penguin leered from his seat. “Heads… or Tails!” Two-Face laughed, flipping a coin high into the air.
“I’ll fist him as punishment for the corruption of Gotham,” Bane growled from his seat.
“Gentleman, gentleman, gentleman!” The Joker sighed. “Can we all not be a little more creative? Do we have to play the old record every time?”
Everyone fell silent, as the two huge henchmen dragged Bruce across to the St Andrews Cross and chained him in place.
“We must punish him; we can all agree on that. But we must punish him with pleasure!” There was a gleam in The Joker’s eye as he looked at the confusion in his fellow villain’s eyes. “You see, our hero here, the Batman,” his voice dripped with lust and amusement, “Loves pain. He thrives on it, it arouses him. We must give him as much, even more than he can handle. And he will love us for it in return. He will beg for more, and we will be able to ask anything we want in exchange for giving it to him. So, I beg of you, do not do your usual thing. We must dig deep and find some really depraved ways to punish him.”
The three villains in the audience looked a little lost at this point, so set in their way were they. “We could put a blindfold over his eyes,” Bain said cautiously.
“Think bigger,” The Joker encouraged.
“We could starve him… make him eat his own flesh,” Two-Face suggested.
“No killing!” The Joker rolled his eyes. “It’s much more fun if we keep him alive.”
“Electricity…” The Penguin said.
“Yes!” The Joker exclaimed. “But how will we use it, that’s the real question. Attached to his nipples, or…”
“No, I mean your henchman. He has electricity coming out of his fingers!” The Penguin said. All of the other villain’s eyes were captivated as the henchman stepped forward, the electricity crackling between in his fingers.
“What the hell…” The Joker struggled to understand what he was seeing. For once he was without the words to make fun of the situation.
“You shall pay for this!” Thor roared, as it was he, behind the mask.
The Joker turned to the other henchman to demand their help, but this one had stepped across and tore the St Andrews Cross in two, shattering the chains that were holding Batman. He then took a huge piece of the broken cross and begun swinging it above his head.
“Where the hell have you brought us?” Bane roared, before Hercules sent him, and the section of the St Andrew’s cross, slamming against the wall.
The Joker screamed in genuine terror for once, as Thor headed towards him, the lightening crackling down his entire arm and up to the ceiling. “What is that? How do you do that? Who are you?”
“We’ve been sent by higher powers than you and I, to bring order and justice to this section of the multiverse,” Thor thundered. He was very good at Thundering, after all it was a key skill for the God of Thunder. A flick of his wrist, and a burst of lightning tore into the electronics in the club, rippling through the building, blowing computers, destroying all of The Jokers systems, and wiping all of the recorded imagery he had of Batman being humiliated. Well aware of the Wayne Corporation’s technical skills, he kept everything analogue. It was a mistake that he would be punished for. The Joker screamed in frustration, knowing exactly what was happening, before Thor sent him flying across the room, knocking him unconscious. Two-Face and Penguin scrambled out of the only door in a desperate attempt to get away. Hercules however, practically strolled over, picked the semi-conscious Bane up in one hand and sent him like a missile down the corridor. As the sound of one body colliding with two others ricocheted through the club, Hercules bounded down the corridor to make sure there was no escape.
“Who are you guys?” Bruce Wayne gasped, as he tried to stand up.
“We’ve been sent to help you,” Thor said as he helped him to his feet. “That’s all you need to know. Now, do we call you ‘Batman’? ‘Mr Batman’? ‘The Batman’?”
“Any of the above sounds fine,” Bruce said, a little weakly. “And you are?”
“Thor. God of Thunder,” he shook Bruce’s hand. “Do you have Nordic people in this version of earth? I am one of their gods. Well, I was in my version of earth. In my dimension anyway.”
“Can you say that bit again?” Bruce was an intelligent man, and he’d dealt with some – and only he was able to call it ‘batshit crazy’ – situations. But other dimensions? That was a new one on him. “You come from another dimension? Did I get that right?”
“Something like that,” Thor said. He didn’t completely understand the reality of the multiverse, as there was usually someone to tell him where, or when he needed to appear and bash things. “We were tasked with coming and helping you get out of a bad situation, which I think we have accomplished. Shall we get somewhere safe, have a few drinks and discuss it all?”
Bruce nodded. What else was there to say? “I don’t…” he found himself staring at the huge, muscled stranger in black leather who had rescued him. “I don’t usually wear these sorts of things, and have…”
Thor gave a little chuckle and leant over to pat him on the shoulder. “Really? Because you’re damn hot for an earth dude. And me and my buddy have been getting really hard at the thought of having some hardcore bondage fun with you.”
“You… you have?” Bruce choked.
“By all the Gods yeah!” Thor laughed. “We were always going to rescue you, but my buddy there was hoping that if you were into it, we might get in some quality playtime before we had to call in the big guns.” Thor removed his bat mask. “Would that have been, ok?”
“Ok?” Bruce choked, suddenly feeling as if he was rapidly coming back to life. “That would have been more than fucking ok,” and he came forward, slapping Thor’s huge chest and hugging him. “Listen man,” he said. “I’ve got a huge mansion with a big playroom which,” he paused to think about it, “Might need a bit of remodelling, come to think of it. But after that, I think we can have some good fun. Are you two a couple?”
Thor had to think about it for a moment. “Gee, I don’t know. I’d just come out of a relationship when I got double-crossed by my evil brother and was delivered as a captive to Herc over there, because I’d insulted his dad. But we had a good couple of fucks, and I think he realised that his dad is a bit crazy, so it was more fun if we played around together. Then,” Thor huffed, and ran his fingers through his long blonde hair, which also made his biceps flex. “A big wizard sort of fella who we work with, and is a bit of a wiz – huh, listen to that – anyway he’s a wiz with these multidimensions thing. He said that some important people over here were having trouble, and that me and Herc could lend a hand. Or a big arse, or a big dick!” And he winked.
“Are you…” Bruce’s mind was fuzzy. “Are you like superheroes back in your… in your dimension?”
“Oh yeah!” Thor nodded. “Big. Huge. Famous. Like across the Galaxy. Why?”
“If you don’t mind me saying, you seem very relaxed about sex,” Bruce swallowed.
Thor gave him a wink. “I’m a god. Do you think I care what other people say? And Herc, ah, he’s Greek, you know? They just love it any way they can get it. And whatever we do, well it doesn’t stop us being heroes, does it?”
“I guess not…” Bruce murmured. ‘Was it all that simple?’ “So…” he turned back. “Do you want to head back to my mansion?”
“Hercules you dumb himbo,” Thor called out. “Time to go.”
“Coming!” Hercules called back. “But there are some other guys down here. They think they can fight. You might wanna come.”
That was too much fun to miss out on. “On my way!” Thor bounced towards the door. He paused and turned back to Batman. “Do you want to come join the fun?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Bruce laughed.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
