“And now,” Jason’s voice purred, slow and deliberate, “it’s time for the final prize. The moment we’ve all been waiting for.” He knelt in front of Dick, his masked face tilting with a predatory gleam. Behind him, the camera loomed closer, its lens drinking in every detail. Jason’s hand gestured lazily toward Dick’s trembling frame. “Heroes hide behind their masks, their capes, their bravado. But now—now it’s time to remove the mask hiding the part of the hero we most want to see.”
Dick’s breath hitched, a strangled sound escaping his throat. His body shivered uncontrollably, every nerve alight with the neural stimulant coursing through him. He knew what was coming. He’d known from the moment he’d been stripped to this final, humiliating barrier. But knowing didn’t make it easier. His cock twitched beneath the flimsy fabric of the jockstrap, betraying him yet again.
Jason leaned in, his voice a low, mocking whisper. “Don’t worry, little bird. This will only hurt your pride.” With a flourish, he produced the shears once more, the cold metal glinting under the harsh lights.
The first snip was devastatingly loud in the silence. The fabric parted with a soft tear, falling away to reveal the base of Dick’s shaft, already flushed and straining. Another snip, and the final scrap of cloth tumbled to the floor.
Dick’s cock sprang free, practically bouncing forward as if announcing its own revelation. Thick and proud, it stood rigid and slick with precum, the swollen head gleaming under the glaring lights. The sight was obscene, breathtaking.
For a moment, there was only silence. Hushed, reverent, thick with tension. Even The Cock—Jason—seemed momentarily stunned. Then, barely above a whisper, he breathed, “Wow.”
The camera zoomed in closer, capturing every detail. The faint sheen of sweat on Dick’s skin. The way his cock throbbed, seemingly of its own accord. The single bead of precum that pooled at the tip before dripping slowly down the shaft.
Jason recovered quickly, his voice rising with theatrical awe. “Ladies and gentlemen… I give you the real Nightwing.”
And there it was.
Dick’s breath hitched, a sharp, pained sound in the quiet. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the reality, but the neural stimulant thrumming in his veins made every sensation blindingly intense. He felt his own flesh twitch, a helpless, involuntary pulse that seemed to mock his attempts at composure. His powerful tool was twitching almost boldly, bouncing almost proudly, a thick, impressive length that stood rigid and slick with anticipation.
The silence stretched, taut and heavy.
Then, a whisper, so low it was almost inaudible, yet the sensitive microphones picked up every reverent syllable. “Wow.”
Jason leaned closer, the black leather of his suit creaking softly as he moved. The camera zoomed in, its lens capturing every detail of Dick’s flushed, glistening skin. The stark lighting highlighted the faint sheen of sweat on his chest, the way his muscles tensed and trembled under the gaze of the unseen audience. Jason’s masked face tilted slightly, his voice a low, purring murmur that dripped with a mix of genuine admiration and theatrical cruelty.
“Well, well, little bird,” he began, the words slow and deliberate, each syllable a calculated blow to Dick’s fragile composure. “Or perhaps… not so little after all.” His hand gestured lazily toward Dick’s exposed cock, the motion both mocking and reverent. “My, my. A true heroic endowment. Just look at that. A perfect shape. That beautifully defined, plump head. It’s almost… artistic.”
The camera panned closer, zooming in on the thick, rigid length that stood proudly between Dick’s thighs. The swollen head gleamed under the harsh lights, another bead of precum pooling at the tip before sliding slowly down the shaft. Jason’s voice rose, taking on a performative edge as he addressed the audience directly. “And look at that, viewers,” he said, his tone laced with dark amusement, “He is leaking, coated in his own slick proof of his… enjoyment.”
The cool air on his heated skin, the weight of the audience’s unseen eyes, the sheer, utter exposure—it all threatened to overwhelm him. His body betrayed him yet again, his cock continuing to twitch almost defiantly, as if reveling in the attention.
Jason’s hand hovered dangerously close to Dick’s flushed skin. “Such a shame,” he murmured, his voice a low, intimate whisper that sent shivers down Dick’s spine. “All this time, you’ve been hiding this under that tight little suit of yours. What a waste.” He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against Dick’s ear. “But don’t worry, little bird. The world is finally getting to see the real you.”
The camera lingered on Dick’s trembling form, capturing every flicker of shame and arousal that crossed his face. Jason straightened up, his voice rising once more for the audience. “Isn’t he magnificent? Our hero, laid bare—literally. And I think we can all agree,” he added with a dark chuckle, “that this is a sight no one will soon forget.”
The more Jason talked about his cock, the more aroused Dick became. His body was screaming yes even as his mind pleaded no. Jason’s laughter echoed in the room, low and cruel, as the camera continued to drink in every humiliating detail.
He gestured toward the screen where, presumably, the chat was exploding. “They’re loving it, Nightwing. They’re calling it a masterpiece. A national treasure. They’re so very… hungry for you.” He let out a low, dark chuckle. “Heroes hide behind their masks and their capes and their righteous speeches. But we finally got the mask off the part they truly wanted to see, didn’t we? The real symbol.”
Dick whimpered, a shudder wracking his frame. His hips gave another tiny, traitorous buck, a bead of clear fluid welling up and dripping onto the floor with a soft, audible pat. He was completely, utterly betrayed by his own body.
“But you know,” Jason mused, tilting his head as if struck by a sudden, brilliant idea. “In the interest of scientific inquiry… for the historical record… we really should be precise. We should measure it. Don’t you think?”
“Oh god, no,” Dick whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and shame. His chest rose and fell rapidly, the neural stimulant amplifying every emotion coursing through him. “Please… don’t.” His words were barely audible, a fragile plea that seemed to hang in the air, fragile and desperate. He couldn’t bear the thought of being measured, quantified, reduced to nothing more than a number on a tape. It was too much—too degrading, too humiliating.
But Jason only smiled behind his mask, the predatory gleam in his eyes undiminished. He tilted his head, feigning sympathy as he reached for the yellow tape measure. “Now, now,” he purred, his voice dripping with mock reassurance. “Don’t be shy, little bird. The audience deserves accuracy. And let’s be honest—” he paused, his gaze lingering on Dick’s exposed cock, “—you’ve already given them so much. What’s one more… revelation?”
Dick’s throat tightened, his breath hitching as Jason moved closer. He shook his head, a futile attempt to resist, but his body betrayed him yet again. His cock twitched almost violently, as if it craved the attention he so desperately wanted to avoid. The cool air brushed against his flushed skin, amplifying the raw vulnerability of the moment.
Jason knelt before him, the tape measure glinting in the harsh light. “Shhh,” he cooed, his tone soft but laced with an undercurrent of cruelty. “This won’t take long. And just think—you’ll go down in history as the hero who gave everything.”
Dick clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to maintain some semblance of control. But the neural stimulant coursing through his veins made every sensation unbearable. His cock throbbed, aching for touch, for release—anything to ease the relentless tension building inside him. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears of humiliation pricking at the corners.
“Please…” he whispered again, his voice breaking. But the plea fell on deaf ears. Jason was already reaching for him, the tape measure poised to deliver its final blow to Dick’s crumbling dignity.
With a predator’s grace, Jason reached out. Dick flinched, expecting a rough, calloused grip. But the touch, when it came, was unexpectedly… clinical. Deliberate. Jason’s fingers were surprisingly gentle as they encircled the base of Dick’s shaft, holding him steady. The gentle touch against his feverish skin made Dick gasp. It was not the harsh punishment he expected, but a firm, undeniable possession that sent a fresh jolt of electricity straight to his core.
Jason pressed the end of the tape to Dick’s pelvis, his thumb rubbing almost imperceptibly against the sensitive skin there. Dick bit his lip, a moan trapped in his throat. Slowly, meticulously, Jason drew the tape along the proud, straining length, his gaze fixed not on the numbers, but on Dick’s face, watching every flicker of shame and arousal that crossed his features.
He reached the tip, pressing down slightly. Dick cried out, a short, sharp sound, his legs trembling.
“Let’s see…” Jason purred, examining the tape. He held it up for the camera. A theatrical flourish. “My, my. A solid… no, a magnificent eight and a half inches. Truly a gift.”
Before Dick could process that, Jason’s grip changed, shifting the tape. “And the girth… a hero’s girth, to be sure.” He wrapped the tape around the thickest part, pulling it snug. Dick’s head fell back against the post, a strangled groan escaping him. The pressure, the measurement, the sheer outrageousness of it all was pushing him closer to an edge he desperately didn’t want to cross here, like this.
“Wow. Five and three quarter inches around! What a fucking incredible cock!” Jason announced, his voice laced with a dark, hungry pride. He released his hold, letting the tape fall away. He leaned in close again, his masked face just inches from Dick’s. The scent of leather and his own musk filled Dick’s senses.
“Perfect,” Jason whispered, the word meant for him alone, a hot, intimate secret in the middle of the public spectacle. His hand came up, not to touch Dick’s length, but to cradle his cheek. “You are absolutely perfect.”
He turned back to the camera, his voice booming once more for their audience. “There you have it, folks! Certified. Verified. The great Nightwing, in all his glory!” The chat scrolled furiously on the monitor, a blur of emojis and explicit praise.
Jason stood up, his imposing frame looming over Dick. He looked down at him, a king surveying his most prized conquest. Dick was panting, completely laid bare, every inch of his toned, athletic body flushed and on display. The neural stimulant made his skin hypersensitive; he could feel the weight of Jason’s gaze like a physical caress.
“The measurements are in,” Jason said, his voice dropping back into that intimate, dangerous whisper meant only for Dick’s ears. “But the audience didn’t tune in just for statistics. They want to see what it can do. They want to see the great hero… perform.”
He held up a hand, the one still clad in slick, black leather.
“What do you say, little bird? Ready to give them a real show?”
