Robing Gets Cat Scrath Fever Chapter Seven By Evan Andrews
The following story is the final chapter of a work of fan fiction. All characters depicted in it belong to and are trademarked and copyrighted by DC Comics and/or its subsidiaries. I am not related to the company and make no claim of ownership over the characters. The story depicts males in sexual situations, mostly with other males. If that offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
The story is set in the New Teen Titans era, shortly before Dick Grayson becomes Nightwing in a continuity long since superseded.
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Chapter Seven: Ever After
Scene One: The Lair, Again
The underground complex was dark, and his short green boots made almost no noise as Robin walked through the place where he'd been a contented sex-slave not that many days before. He had no idea what he was looking for. Some sort of closure, maybe? Or maybe he wanted to find Catwoman and again fall at her feet in submissive adoration. In any case, he found neither. Batman had finally broken down and given him some details about the rescue. Catwoman had gotten away, of course, as had about half her henchmen. Robin had been about to ask which ones, but thought better of asking the question. The other half had been rounded up and carried off to city jail where they were awaiting trial as accomplices to kidnapping and gross sexual imposition. There was enough evidence so that they faced good long sentences in henchman jail (you couldn't put these sorts in with a general prison population).
He found the Stable where he'd lost his virginity beyond all shadow of a doubt and where his superhero friends had found the three abducted heroes naked and cuddled up in the center cage where they'd been left after a night-long orgy. Robin remembered that a lot of gratuitous frottage and kissing had gone on in the cage while they waited to fall asleep or woke up, and from what Batman had hinted that's what was going on when the JLA and the Titans had burst in on them. Robin supposed, given that, that he could hardly blame his friends for the beat down they put on whatever henchmen they could get hold of. The room's fittings were still there: cages, fuck benches, and kitchenette, but nothing else.
The Henchmen's quarters held the debris one expected to find when a dozen or more men shared a fuck-pad. As he looked at an easy chair, Robin could feel Maine Coon's fat dick up his ass again, but only memories remained of what he knew had gone on in here.
The Grooming Room was in a similar state of abandon. The cages were empty. The massage table and barber chair had an air of disuse already. And the shower was dry and unwelcoming, even though Robin's ass remembered having his first enema there. The wardrobes had been ransacked, but a brief bright green garment caught his eye. His milking trunks lay where they'd been tossed aside. He picked them up and sniffed them, remembering. Heck, they still had his scent on them and the scent of his sperm. Those lazy bastards, Persian and Turkish Van, never got the laundry done in good time, so the cum-cows had often gone to their sessions in soiled garments. Casting about, he also found Green Arrow's milking trunks, and Aquaman's. He stuffed these all into pouches on his utility belt. Why? Maybe to remember by (and jerk off to?). Or maybe because these were physical evidence of what had happened here. Batman said to forget it, but Robin thought they both knew that wasn't happening.
The last room was the lair proper, Catwoman's temple of Bast. The chaise, though intact, was incomplete. It needed her presence to look right. Robin crossed to the empty piece of furniture and stood in reverie. He'd been made into a cum-cow on this very spot. He'd been taught to empty his balls for the wily villainess on command and to be happy doing it. He'd learned how to manipulate, to milk, his two fellow captives, forming the three of them into some twisted sort of brotherhood. Subconsciously his dick took this all in, grew erect, and started pressing against the fabric of his regular costume trunks.
He glanced down at the throbbing bulge and thought, "What the hell. It's not like there's anyone here."
He pulled the waistband of this trunks down in the front and let nine inches of excited man-meat spring free. One hand wrapped itself around his engorged shaft and began to stroke. God, it felt right having his cock stroked in this place. Right, but not right enough. He sat down on the chaise, slid his trunks all the way off, and opened his vest. Laying back, he spread his legs wide and let a pair of spit-slickened fingers worm their way inside his butt. There, right where he remembered it being, he made contact with his prostate and began to tease the traitor gland as well as his prick.
"Fuck!" he whispered in the dark, "Fuck yeah!"
His hands had lost none of their adeptness and soon he was ready to blow. His cock pulsed and a huge load of cum shot up into the air, landing in a mess on his belly.
"Oh yeah," he moaned as nine inches of cum-rod spat several more, increasingly smaller, wads of sperm.
Finally his body was done, and Robin lay there, sated again and exhausted in the best of all possible ways. He absently ran a finger through his seed and brought it to his mouth. Catwoman had praised the taste and consistency of his loads, and a single taste told him why. If the henchmen's cum had been bread and butter to a cock-crazy captive, his own was champagne and caviar. No wonder Catwoman wanted it, wanted him. And that thought got him musing on what Green Arrow's and Aquaman's cum must taste like. All those weeks and he'd never actually tasted it. Super-slave cum had been reserved only for her.
It was while Robin was wondering about that, that his head lolled to the right and he noticed something standing on the altar to Bast, a single white alabaster libations vessel. Her milk cup. Still naked from the waist down, he made his way across to the altar and lifted the vessel. It was delicate, and it was a miracle that it hadn't been destroyed in the heroes' rampage through the lair. Or maybe it hadn't been there. Maybe Catwoman had brought it back here to be found. He turned the vessel over and discovered a piece of paper fixed there.
"Something to remember meow by."
Batman would have destroyed such a reminder of subjugation and defilement, or, if he thought the object was a real Egyptian antiquity he might have referred it to the Gotham City Museum of History. But Robin was not Batman.
He held the vessel for a few moments as a smile spread across his face. He didn't need to sniff it to know it carried the scent of his cream. He knew it, and she'd known that. And yet, she'd left it for him. Coming back to the lair, not at all a safe thing to do with two angry superhero teams hot on your trail, but she had come back anyway and left his for him to find. And he knew it had been left for him, not for Green Arrow or Aquaman. It was Catwoman's sick way of saying that wrong as the whole thing had been, the two of them had had something. Maybe that was why Batman didn't want to talk about it, because he was jealous-—Robin always suspected that his mentor had conflicted feelings about the arch-villainess.
"Tough luck, buddy. She ran a gauntlet just to leave it for me," Robin thought, and his smile broadened.
THe Boy Wonder pulled his trunks back on, buttoned his vest, and picking the vessel disappeared into the dark.
Scene Two: The Locker Room
It was a few days after his return to Catwoman's lair, and Robin found himself paralyzed. There was laughter in the men's locker room in the Titan's Tower. No, not precisely in the locker room. There was laughter, male laughter, coming from the big communal shower. Robin stood, frozen, in the shadows watching Aqualad, Speedy, and Changeling engaged in naked horseplay, the hot water streaming provocatively over their muscular young bodies, dripping in runnels from the ends of their larger than normal cocks—-especially Changeling.
"How did a kid that small get a cock that big?" Robin wondered.
Of course, neither of his fellow sidekicks bore any resemblance to their blond mentors, men Robin had formed a twisted fellow sex-slave bond with. Aqualad was exotically dark-haired, and Speedy was all cocky ginger. Changeling with his green skin and hair was outside that spectrum entirely, but it didn't matter. Robin's cock didn't care. It remembered the two hot men he'd shared sexual captivity with, and it was adamant that it wanted to relive old times.
Dammit. Robin had thought that he might be getting over all that. The Boy Wonder had approached Kori about his feelings, and for reasons he didn't grasp she wasn't disgusted. Rather, she was intrigued, and she'd had some ideas—-ideas they hadn't acted on yet. What he enjoyed would never do for her, of course, but it didn't have to. This was not a reciprocal part of their relationship. He now found himself at the mercy of a hot alien princess who seemed to have an endless supply of ideas about how to immobilize him while she had her way with him. Or with his body. Robin wasn't sure where one ended and the other started where the bedroom was involved. This scene in the shower, though, this was something else. Something immediate.
The young men's voices brought Robin out of his reverie.
"Where's Dick?" Aqualad asked, "Isn't he going to grab a shower too?"
"Mr. Dark and Mysterious is probably catching up on his brooding time," Changeling laughed.
"Back off, Gar," Speedy said, "If he needs time alone, then we can afford to give it to him."
Changeling started to sing `Kumbaya' but the sudden sound of a rolled towel snapping cut off the impromptu concert.
"Ow! Dammit, Roy! THat hurt!"
More laughter ensued as the shower devolved into a mock combat.
Watching the trio of hot young men sporting under the hot water, Robin's brain harkened back to dark, Spartan, underground rooms where he had given himself up to satisfying the fleshy fancies of a crowd of Catwoman's spectacular henchmen. His cock grew hard and his ass started puckering in anticipation of hot man-shaft as those memories took center stage in his brain. His hormones kicked in, his tongue licked around his lips, and he absently reached down to take hold of the erection that was tenting his trunks. He wanted to throw himself into the middle of his old and new friends and beg them to fuck him. Orally or anally, it didn't matter so long as he was giving himself up to hard cock. He wanted Speedy to take him like a dog, and he wanted to ride Aqualad's hot shaft-—maybe they could both fuck his ass at the same time the way their mentors had. And he wanted to experience the probably exotic taste of Changeling's cum. Of course, none of that could ever be. Aqualad was happily stepping out with Tula, and Changeling had an ever-changing dance card. You never knew who'd be on Big Green's arm next, but it was always a girl. Even Speedy was, so far as Robin knew, a straight arrow sort of guy. No, it wasn't happening. It couldn't happen. Dammit.
So instead, Robin retired to the furthest toilet stall and, after locking the door, shrugged off his trunks and spread his legs. One hand reaching into a pouch on his utility belt and brought out the compact prostate massager he kept there while the other hand began to stroke his dick. Every night that he wasn't with Kori, he had been pleasuring himself this way in the privacy his bedroom. His left hand stroked up and down his weeping member, making squelchy sounds as it did so. His right hand snaked underneath his balls and slid the vibrating toy past his guardian muscle. The massager was perfectly formed to hit the gland hiding inside his anus just right.
"Fuck!" he whispered and then was silent.
He couldn't let his buddies catch him jerking off while listening to them. To insure he didn't give himself away, he snatched up his trunks and, balling them up, stuck them in his mouth as an improvised gag.
Stroking his shaft, the Boy Wonder listened to his hot naked friends playing in the shower, he closed his eyes and slid into a world of fantasy and imagination.
<< The storm shook the sailing ship like a dog shook a toy, and waves rolled over the deck. Prince Robin did his best to hang onto the mast, but the force of the water was too much for him. He was washed across the deck and over the side. He grabbed for some flotsam to keep his head above water, but the storm was too wild for him to keep a hold on anything. With a final gasp, Prince Robin felt the water pull him under. He shut his mouth trying to hold his breath, but just before he passed out he thought he saw a young man swimming towards him. The man had no legs, just a fish tail below the waist, and he had Aqualad's handsome face.
"I'm dreaming," Prince Robin thought.
The aquatic stud swam up, grabbed Prince Robin by the head, and pressed his lips against the prince's own. Prince Robin gasped, but the merman breathed into his open mouth. Pure sweet oxygen. Prince Robin wrapped his arms around his fantastic savior, and they kissed as the ship above them was battered to pieces. The merman swam his prince away from the tragedy and into water that grew calmer and calmer, shallower and shallower, until Prince Robin's back hit sand. Breaking the embrace, the prince rolled over onto his hands and knees and crawled out of the roiling surf onto the wet sand of the beach. Rolling over onto his back, he looked to the surf, expecting to see the merman swimming away, but instead he saw the dark-haired hunk stand up on human legs (where had those come from?) and stride naked and hard out of the water. Coming up to the storm-tossed prince the merman straddled him and fell to his knees. He grabbed the white shirt that was plastered to Prince Robin's chest and tore it open before bending over and resuming their soul-encompassing kiss. Prince Robin held on for dear life as the merman tore his tight pants apart along the crotch seam and slid the separate legs up over his thighs, releasing the prince's young cock and exposing his fuckable hole. the merman slipped back until he was between the prince's spread legs and placed the head of his shaft at the portal to the anal cunt of the man he'd saved and forced himself inside.
"Mmm!" the prince moaned as the sea-stud began to plumb his depths. >>
"Oh fuck," Robin back in the locker room thought, and the fantasy changed.
<< Robin-zan stumbled through the jungle, the witch doctor's ebony-dark warriors in hot pursuit. They were close behind him, and due to the jungle lord's prolonged torture at the witch doctor's hands they were getting closer. Just before they caught him, though, Robin-zan felt himself grabbed around the waist and swung up into the jungle canopy. A rescue! The warriors cried out in defeat as they watched their quarry and prize carried away. The jungle lord turned his head to see who had rescued him and found himself starring into the face of a great green ape, but the ape's laughing eyes and wicked smile were Changeling's own. Swing after swing, the two quickly left the warriors far behind and soon entered into the forbidden realm of the Green Apes. With a final swing, the ape landed in his own bower, a nest of woven branches carpeted with grass, leaves, and moss perched in the canopy. Robin-zan found himself dropped stomach-down over top of a thick moss-covered limb. Relieved but exhausted Robin-zan simply lay there. His chest rested on the limb, and his arms and legs dangled on either side.
"Now you get to pay me back for that timely rescue," the green ape said in the language of the Free People.
Looming over his 'guest' the green beast ripped off Robin-zan's loincloth and tossed it aside. He pulled a banana from a hanging buch and, peeling it, crushed it in his clever hand. He used the mess to anoint and lube the jungle lord's ass-crack and sphincter before cramming a finger into Robin-zan's hole.
"Ohhhhh!" Robin-zan moaned as the simian fingers teased his tight man-cunt open.
Suddenly the fingers were pulled out, and their place was swiftly claimed by the ape's oversized animal cock.
"Ohh wee-oh-wee ohh, wee-oh-wee ohhh!" Robin-zan cried as the great ape power-fucked him out of this world. >>
"Fuck yeah!" Robin in the locker room thought, and the fantasy changed again.
<< Robin in the Hood and Roy Scarlet dashed through the undergrowth of Sherwood Forrest. Behind them, the Sheriff and Sir Guy, with their soldiers, were in hot pursuit.
"Quick!" Robin in the Hood hissed, "Through here."
The two outlaws dove through a hollow in the underbrush and found themselves in a long-neglected hidey-hole.
"Clever," Roy Scarlet said with Speedy's insouciance, "I'd forgotten this was here."
"Hush," Robin Hood cautioned.
They heard the bloody Normans come barreling past their refuge, and when the forest was quiet again, Roy made as if to leave.
"Not yet," Robin in the Hood breathed, "Gisbourne's a fool, but he's not an idiot. He'll expect some sort of trick and be waiting for us. We need to wait for them to give up entirely."
"But that could take hours," Roy complained, "Overnight even. Are we just supposed to lie here?"
Robin in the Hood smiled and instead of saying anything he let his hand make for the laces of Roy's trews.
"Really? Is that why you chose to hide instead of run?" Roy smiled, "Well I suppose a kiss and a cuddle will help pass the time."
Outlaw hands roamed as the two brothers in adversity's lips met and communed. Their hands knew what they were looking for, and the outlaws' clothes slowly fell away. Fists pumped raw turgid cocks until they wept and squelched.
"I hope we're going to do more than jerk each other off," Roy whispered.
Robin in the Hood, smiling, twisted round, and Roy, figuring out the prince of thieves' goal twisted to meet him halfway. With an ease borne of long familiarity, Robin swallowed his brother outlaw's cock to the root while Roy inhaled Robin's own shaft.
"Mmmm!" they moaned quietly.
Robin in the Hood felt Roy's talented fingers tease his hole and slowly slide inside him. Robin reciprocated, breaching Roy's own hole, and the two sucked and finger-fucked themselves on towards orgasm. Roy's cock throbbed in his mouth, and Robin in the Hood swallowed his brother's precious load. Now it was his turn. >>
"Oh, yeah," Robin in the locker room thought.
The fantasies, for all their erotic detail, had taken only a couple of minutes to play. As Robin in the Hood's cock got ready to explode, the Boy Wonder's continuing attacks his sex on two fronts caused the sap to run up the inside of his real dick.
"Cumming!" he thought, and he grunted savagely into his improvised gag.
He balanced on the edge for what seemed like hours, but was in fact only seconds, and then his cock spat hot ball juice into the air. Spasms wracked his exquisite body as his balls released load after load of jizz. Then he collapsed back onto the hard plastic and porcelain.
As the trunks fell from Robin's mouth, he gasped. Once his cock subsided, it'd be safe to join his friends and get his shower, but tonight, he decided, he was going to let Kori do that thing she had been suggesting to him. And his ass puckered again in anticipation as he imagined it.
Scene Three: She
The Queen of the Universe, sitting enthroned in glory, stared down at her pathetic abject sex-slave.
"Crawl over here, human male," she ordered.
Robin, naked but for his rescued pair of boy-toy easy-access trunks, slowly made his way across the floor to prostrate himself before her.
"Look up," she said, "A sex-slave is no use to me with his face to the ground."
Robin raised his head and stared at Starfire's magnificent body, orange skin resplendent in a white leather harness, boots, and crotchless briefs. She was his goddess, and he worshipped her with his eyes.
She ran a finger provocatively along her labia and said, "I think you know what to do."
He did. Crawling up between her legs, Robin applied his lips to his queen's nether lips, his tongue to her nub, and went to town. The alien princess sighed. Whatever had happened to Robin during his incarceration, she knew it was more than he cared to admit. What he actually had admitted to her was jaw-dropping. His timid confession that he had enjoyed being bound and dominated had floored her, but she immediately saw how this could be turned to both their advantages. The royal house of Tamaran was extremely practical. So here they were, queen and slave instead of boyfriend and girlfriend, but that was alright. She also enjoyed this fantasy, enjoyed seeing this cocky, always confident, lead-from-the-front male abase himself to pleasure her, to please her. He did it well, and for a reward tonight she would give him something to really remember. While Robin continued to eat out her pussy, she reached to the table at her side. A complicated leather harness, also in white leather, sat there, and she lifted it with one hand while the other encircled the dildo that thrust up like the prow of a ship from the pubic plate. Slowly, carefully, she applied lube to the shaft and made sure that it was slick and glistening.
"Enough," she said, "Lean over the altar there, human male. Spread your feet, and use your hands to pull your ass cheeks apart."
Robin obeyed immediately and waited in shivering anticipation as Starfire stepped into her fucking harness. Then a moment later he felt something hard and slick press against his butthole. He whimpered, and then she was inside him, making him the vessel of her dominance. The dildo began to pump in and out of his asshole, and the Boy Wonder was back in fuck-slave heaven!
Scene Four: And Finally Nightwing
A week or two after Dick Grayson had given up his persona as Robin, the Boy Wonder, and assumed the mantle of Nightwing. He still ran with the Titans, or course, but he also patrolled alone. They all understood and gave him room to be his own man. That was what true friends did. When he got into his top floor apartment this evening, though, he was confronted with a parcel in the kitchen table. An unsigned card read:
"We had so little time, but so profound. Wear this and remember meow fondly."
Nightwing glanced at the bookshelf where a white alabaster libations vessel still stood. A carton of milk now sat beside it, and the import of that floored him. Catwoman had been here beyond a shadow of a doubt. Nightwing tore open the package and found another costume just like the one he was currently wearing under his street clothes. The material and pattern were much the same, of course, but there was one big difference. This costume came with something to wear underneath instead of a dance-belt. A leather cock-ring that he knew would be just the right size was fitted to a strap to connect it to a shaped butt-plug that he also knew would be just long enough to ride riot over his prostate. He looked at the card again. On the back was a second line.
"The suit is made with a special material that will hide any evidence of excitement, but we'll know. Won't we?"
Many would say it was sick gift. A perverted gift. But in a strange way it was also supremely touching. Nightwing had wondered, since being rescued from Catwoman's sex-slave temple, whether she was more interested in him or in Batman. Or if she really did't have any feelings for either of them, thinking of them as no more than cat-toys to be batted about. He'd hope for the former, though there was so much more evidence for the second and third. Considering this gift now, maybe, just maybe in her own twisted way she did love him. Maybe...
Without further consideration, he stripped all the way down in the middle of the room and took up the cock-ring and butt-plug harness. Carefully, he guided his flaccid cock through the ring and then each of his heavy balls. The leather was more giving than a steel ring would have been and more organic than rubber or some synthetic. His cock loved how the ring gripped the base of his sex, and as his meat grew to its full nine inches, Nightwing played the strap back between his legs and inserted the plug into his sex-hole.
"Ah!" the hero sighed as the plug made contact with his love-nut.
Whenever he moved, the sensitive gland was stimulated and his cock began to weep. He stared at himself, naked and hard, in the full-length mirror. He was a paragon of fucking studly young manhood. He knew that, and he knew that other people agreed. Heck, there were websites dedicated to appreciating his physique (and a few that stepped over the line from appreciation into full-blown pornography). Holy third leg, how was he supposed to patrol with nine inches of blood-engorged man-meat tenting his suit, not to mention the stain that his leaking pre-cum would cause? Could the rest of the villainess' gift actually let him do this?
In the end he decided to trust Catwoman. It seemed odd, but he didn't think humiliating him publically was her style or her intent. He pulled on the suit and, after checking the mirror, had to admit that Catwoman had been right. His crotch still bulged, but there was nothing new in that. He'd been coping with a tell-tale bulge in his trunks since puberty had kicked in. Photographers, especially those from the seedier tabloids and paparazzi web services, loved focusing on what hung between his legs. In this suit, though, while the bulge was still there, no outline of the erection he knew he sported was obvious. That would have some young girls, and probably a few young men, in tears-—if they'd known. He ran his hands over the chest of the new costume where it hugged his every muscle. Even his rock hard nipples were decently obscured. He reached behind and massaged his ass cheeks. This made his pelvis thrust forward, and Nightwing was pleased to see that in addition to obscuring tell-tale bulges, the fabric was letting none of the liquid leaking from the tip of his cock show through. What's more, this suit moved just as well as the real one—-maybe even better. Villainess or not, Catwoman had gone all out on this thing.
Satisfied, he sat and pulled on his boots. Then he doused the lights and slid through his window, onto the fire-escape, and up to the roof. As he moved he had to admit something else. In the suit's embrace, thanks to its accompanying toys, he felt more alive than he usually did when it came time to patrol. Now it was a full-body and full-mind experience, and he loved it. Once he was several buildings away, he let out a cry, and with primal pleasure the young hero threw himself out into the night.