1 comments/ 49442 views/ 11 favorites Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 01 By: Angelique Bouchette This story is the sixth in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures, mainly based on characters in the early Batman comics and that wonderful '60s TV series but with the timeline brought up to the present. Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal use. No copyright infringement is intended. The Adventures Of Batgirl Batgirl: Sex Bomb Chapter 1: Sex In The City Tuesday, 11:17 pm The near naked man sat on the side of the bed, his powerful thighs parted and his fat, still flaccid penis resting on his hairy hanging ballsack. He was over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, a firm, athletic body and rugged blue-eyed, blond-haired looks. Incongruously, he still wore his dark-grey woolen socks and a pair of black, sturdy leather shoes, polished to a high sheen. Through the window on the far side of the hotel room, he could just make out the one corner of the neon sign, winking on and off, in the darkness of the near moonless night. The girl who knelt between his feet, awaiting his next command, was a gorgeous 26-year-old, with a superb figure and a mass of wild red hair surrounding her lovely face. She was naked, apart from a tightly clinging red thong and a matching pair of five-inch stiletto heeled shoes with one-inch platform soles. The sole item of underwear, barely managed to cover her sex and its narrow sides rode high over her shapely hips. Her gaze was currently fixed on his cock, a look of fascination on her face. She ran the tip of her tongue over her full, scarlet painted lips, in anticipation of what was to come. The man could hardly believe his good fortune; the girl had a fabulous body and the most incredible cock-sucking lips. He briefly wondered if she used collagen injections to enhance them? "I want you to make me hard," he instructed the girl, huskily. The redhead smiled her acceptance and reached out a slim delicate hand, to take hold of his limp organ. "NO! I want you to use your tits!" he said, brushing aside her hand, before she could wrap her slim fingers around his manhood. The girl looked up into his face, her big, expressive green eyes, looking momentarily startled. "A man could drown in those eyes," he told himself, his cock twitching. She smiled her understanding, nodded, then shuffled forward on her knees, before grasping her superbly shaped breasts in both hands and bringing them together, either side of his soft fat penis. "She MUST have had those tits surgically enhanced," he decided, knowledgeably. Her firm bust was about 36 inches, without even a hint of drooping or sagging. He had figured that she took a C-cup bra size, not that she needed any support. Her firm, round tits seemed even bigger, thanks to an incredibly narrow waist, certainly no more than 23 inches in circumference. He prided himself on being able to judge a woman's vital statistics and boy, had this babe got some gorgeous statistics. Squeezing her fleshy mounds about his organ, the girl started to gently rock back and forth on her haunches, stroking and caressing his cock with her warm, yielding tit-flesh. He groaned with pleasure, feeling his cock twitch and start to grow and harden under her expert ministrations. "She sure knows how to pleasure a guy," he thought, closing his eyes to the incredible sensations emanating from his groin and leaning back, supporting his upper body on stiffened arms. "Yeah, yeah, that's it, baby!" he gasped, encouragingly. When his cock had attained its optimum hardness and dimensions, he opened his eyes again and leaned forward. Cupping the girl's chin in the palm of his left hand, he raised her face up and moved in to plant a gentle kiss on her glistening red lips. "Now, I want you to slip these lovely lips around it, and give me the finest blow job you've ever given to a john," he murmured, a momentary grin lighting up his handsome, craggy features. The green-eyed redhead returned his stare, unblinking. "It's your money, honey," she murmured, easing back on her heels and taking his bobbing shaft in a firm but gentle grip, close to its base. She planted a light butterfly kiss on the end of his knob, then ovalled her lovely mouth and went down on him. As he felt his cock slide into her hot, wet mouth, he sighed with delight, happy to let the hooker do all the work. After all, she was the professional. He felt her tongue sliding over and around his glans, before she took him in further, her teeth scrapping, lightly over his hot flesh, until the end of his cock was nudging up against the back of her throat. He marveled at the girl's ability to take in so much, without gagging or choking. Then she started to slide his cock in and out between her tightly stretched lips, never quite releasing him and never quite deep-throating him. He groaned with pleasure, watching her head rhythmically bobbing up and down in his lap. He felt his climax starting to build from the base of his belly. "Oh, yes, yesss!" he gasped, throwing his head back, eyes closed once more. "Mmmm! Aaaaah!" "Steady! Slower, babe, or I'll cum in your pretty little mouth!" he warned, a couple of minutes later. The girl slowed down a little, gradually bringing him nearer and nearer to his ultimate pleasure. "That's enough!" he gasped, as he almost lost control and ejaculated, pulling her hot eager mouth off his throbbing shaft, with barely moments to spare. "Time to fuck!" he croaked, as she looked up at him, quizzically. The girl smiled and nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Lie back on top of the bed, big guy," she ordered. "This gal is gonna give you the best fuck you've ever had!" The woman preferred to be on top. It always gave her a feeling of power over the man, a sense of being in total control of events. He nodded, then swung his legs up onto the mattress and stretched out his long powerful frame, legs slightly parted and his throbbing erection sticking almost straight up in the air. He clasped both hands together behind his head and watched as the vision of delight thumbed down her clinging thong panties and delicately stepped out of them, taking care not to snag the delicate material on her metal-capped heels. The girl could have taken her shoes off first, but she knew that most men loved to make it with a girl in sexy high heels. He watched, as she climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips, carefully positioning herself, until her naked crotch was directly above his quivering totem pole. His hot eyes were immediately drawn to the tight vertical gash on her nicely padded mons veneris, guided there by a narrow arrowhead of neatly trimmed auburn pubic hair, as if it were some sort of direction indicator. He imagined the words 'cunt this way' tattooed across her flat belly, just above it, and chuckled to himself. The girl heard his chuckle and gauged the direction of his eyes. "You like?" she asked, grinning, bewitchingly and thrusting her hips forward slightly, as added emphasis. His heart skipped a beat. "I like!" he confirmed, a little huskily. His throbbing penis twitched its agreement. "Thanks!" Spreading apart her outer labia with two fingers of her left hand, and lining up his erection with her right, she lowered herself onto her target, with a loud sigh of satisfaction, until she was fully impaled. "She's obviously been looking forward to this moment, almost as much as I have," he concluded, smugly. "Now just lie back lover and let me do all the work!" she murmured, pressing a wide-spread hand against his nicely developed chest. As he fell back, she started to roll her hips back and forth, slowly rising and lowering herself on his rigid shaft, as she did so. Soon, her pussy began to lubricate, and she increased her pace, throwing her head back with eyes closed, arching her spine, obviously lost in her own pleasure sensations. Small moans started to emanate from her slack lips and her head swayed from side to side, like a cobra about to strike its hypnotized prey. The man was gasping with delight, as he gazed up at her, noting her incredible long, hard nipples, as she thrust out her heaving breasts. Her pussy was clamped about his cock shaft, like a velvet vise and her tightly stretched cunt lips completely disappeared inside her, with each downward plunge of her mons. "Mmm, that feels real nice, honey," he murmured, placing his hands on her rounded hips, to help guide and control her movements. Her flawless skin was soon covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, as she worked her body ever faster. He felt his climax approaching once again and started thrusting his pelvis up to meet each sweet downward plunge, his heavy breathing turning into low, animal-like grunts. "Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh..." Little breathy cries were escaping from the girl's slack lips. "Ah, ah, ah, ah..." she gasped, as she strove to attain her own, desperately needed orgasm. "I... I'm gonna cum!" he gasped, belatedly realizing that the girl had not made him wear a rubber and that they were having unprotected sex. The girl showed no sign of comprehending his warning, as she continued to frantically buck up and down on his pulsating organ, lost in a sensual world of her own. "Yesssss!" he cried, triumphantly, as he felt the first wad of cum burst from the end of his penis, splattering against the muscular walls of the girl's vulva. His cries quickly turned to grunts of satisfaction, as he emptied the creamy contents of his tight ball sack into her sopping pussy. His climax seemed to trigger the girl's own orgasm. "Aaaaaahhh!" With a final, strangled gasp, she sank down all the way onto his shaft and started to cum, copiously, as she tumbled over the edge into her own world of ultimate pleasure sensation. "YES!" she cried, throwing her head back, eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Yess, yesss, yessssssssssss!" Her body fluids merged with his, filling her sex and oozing out from between her clinging pussy lips, to trickle down his softening shaft and soak his hairy ball sack. But all good things must come to an end! As the after shocks slowly faded, her eyes fluttered open and she gazed down at him, panting heavily, her shapely breasts rising and falling, the nipples no longer hard and erect, but still impressive prominent none-the-less. "Didn't I promise you the best fuck of your life?" she murmured, a smug smirk on her full lips. "That you did," he croaked, "and you were true to your word! That... that was fantastic, babe!" The redhead rose up off his thighs, allowing his shrinking penis to slide, wetly from her sopping sex, then climbed off the bed. "We, er, we didn't take any precautions," he reminded her, feeling a little guilty. "I-I didn't use a rubber." The girl paused, halfway to the bathroom, then half-turned and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, it's too late now!" she replied, casually. "I don't have any nasty diseases, DO YOU?" The man blushed a deep shade of pink. "N-No... at least I don't think so?" he mumbled. -oOo- When they were both cleaned up and dressed again, the man sat on the side of the hotel bed and pulled his billfold out from the back pocket of his uniform pants. "How much do I owe you, doll?" he asked. The girl smiled, as she finished adjusting the lacy tops of her hold-ups and brushed down her short skirt, cutting off her tantalizing charms from his gaze. "Let's call it fifty dollars, officer. I always like to give a generous discount to Gotham's Boys in Blue!" "In that case, I'm gonna have to arrest you for soliciting, lady!" the policeman replied, with a broad grin, standing up, walking over and grabbing the hooker's wrist, before she could turn and make a bolt for the door. "Why you... you double-crossing, two-faced, son of a bitch," she screeched, trying to pull free of his grasp. "I just let you fuck me and this is my reward, you big jerk?" The police officer pulled out his police issue steel handcuffs and proceeded to cuff the squirming girl's wrists behind her back, while he recited her Miranda rights. "You have the right to remain silent..." "Ooooooh!" the girl cried, angrily stamping her foot on the floor, as he finished. "I-I can't believe you're arresting me! Not after what I just did for you, you ungrateful bastard!" He grinned back at the furious redhead. "It's BECAUSE of what you just did, lady. Prostitution is still illegal in this state!" "Then why didn't you arrest me when I first propositioned you, on the corner of Forty-fifth and Vine?" the redhead demanded, tugging at her cuffed wrists. "What, and miss out on all the fun! You must be joshing me, honey? We don't get many fringe benefits these days, not since the Commissioner of Police decided to clamp down on most of them!" "Bribes and kick-backs, you mean," the girl snapped back, hotly. "Half you guys on the force are on the make! You should be ashamed of yourselves. The good citizens of Gotham deserve better!" "That's pretty rich, coming from a little tramp like yourself," he retorted, with a flash of anger. She calmed down and raised one well-plucked eyebrow in query. "Okay, what will it take for you to let me go, cop?" she asked, in a resigned tone. He looked at the hooker, thoughtfully. The whore looked quite a dish in that tight-fitting little black number, even if she had gone a little overboard on the make-up. "How about you letting me fuck you in the ass, once a week, for the next six months, starting right now?" he suggested, with a boyish grin. "WHAT? No way, you disgusting pervert!" she yelled, loosing her temper and attempting to knee him in the groin. He was saved by the tightness of her short skirt, which luckily hampered her movements and allowed him time to take the necessary evasive action. "Nobody, but NOBODY, gets to fuck me in the butt!" she snapped, her green eyes glittering, dangerously. "A girl's gotta maintain some standards, even in a profession like this!" "Shame! Then it's the lockup for you, my girl... unless you wanna have second thoughts about my generous offer?" he added, caressing her shapely, tightly-clad ass with one hand. "Ooooh, you, you..." She attempted to stamp on the policeman's foot, hoping the metal tipped stiletto heel would penetrate the leather and spike his flat foot, but it skidded off the reinforced toe-cap, instead. "Bitch!" he snarled, angrily, giving her a hard backhand slap across the face and sending the girl sprawling to the floor at his feet, from the force of the blow. "Beast!" she sobbed, looking up and holding her reddening cheek, as she lay sprawled out on the floor, next to the bed. Tears glistened in her big, green eyes. Her short skirt had ridden up her smooth thighs, giving him an unobstructed view of her clinging red thong. It was so tight, it clearly outlined the still swollen lips of her pussy. The officer immediately felt guilty about loosing his temper. He reached out and took her hand, hauling her back to her feet, uncomfortably aware that he had developed another boner. "Sorry, sister, but try anything stupid like that again, and you'll live to regret it!" he warned, roughly pushing her toward the bedroom door and picking up her purse from the dresser, on the way out. Wednesday, 12:21 am As the cruiser drew up in the parking lot of GCPD Headquarters, Officer Phil Thackeray switched off the headlights and engine, before glancing over at his shapely, still handcuffed, female passenger. The red haired hooker looked terrified and her bra-less breasts were heaving up and down beneath her tight black dress, trying to match her increasingly erratic breathing. The girl's big green eyes darted about, nervously and her fists were clenched, unseen, at the base of her spine. As he opened the door and prepared to slide out of the driver's seat, she cried out, "Please, noooo! Alright, alright, I agree to your terms, but you must let me go now! Don't take me inside!" Phil turned back to her, a slight frown on his face. "What did you say?" he asked, unsure whether he had understood her right. "If you let me go, I promise to let you fuck me in the ass!" His eyebrows almost shot off his forehead. "Every week for the next six months?" he asked. "Yes, every week!" she replied, tears glistening in those big green eyes. "Whenever and wherever you like!" His expression broke into a broad grin. "It's a deal, Sweet Thing!" He reached over and unclipped her seatbelt, then unlocked her restraints, before slipping his hand under the hem of her short skirt and gently cupping her warm, thong covered mons. "What's your name, by the way?" he murmured. "I'll need to know, if we're gonna get better acquainted!" The girl squirmed her shapely ass, at his electric touch, resisting the urge to pull his hand away. "Barbara," she gasped. "It's Barbara." "Barbara what?" he asked, massaging the smooth bulge of her mons with his fingertips. She gasped and shook her head, forcefully. "I... I can't tell you that." A tear trickled down her cheek. "Please don't ask me to!" "Hey, take it easy doll, that's cool, but I'll still need your phone number, so I can contact you." Her hesitation was momentary. Using one finger, she scrawled a telephone number on the misted up glass of the passenger door window. "That's my cell number!" She was rapidly starting to grow wet, as she pulled his exploring hand away from her pussy and smoothed the front of her short skirt down over her thighs. "Now, I really must go!" As she got out of the car, she turned and stretched over, to give him a swift peck on the cheek, her boobs almost tumbling out of the neckline of her low-cut dress, as she did so. "Thanks!" she murmured. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, at this display of unexpected tenderness. As soon as the passenger door slammed shut and she walked away, Phil reclined back in his seat and smiled with satisfaction, his right hand absently rubbing the prominent bulge at his crotch. "Things are definitely getting interesting!" he murmured, with a dry chuckle. Suddenly, his eyes alighted on the girl's purse, lying on top of the instrument panel. In her haste to get away, the sexy hooker had taken off without it. He reached over and picked it up. As usual, his policeman's curiosity got the better of him. He opened it up and rifled through the contents. Among the various items of female cosmetics, contraceptives, money and a spare pair of panties, he found what he had been looking for, some ID. As he read the details on the driver's license, his eyes opened wide with disbelief. "Barbara Gordon!" he exclaimed. "Holy Mackerel! The bitch is Commissioner Gordon's kid! No wonder she was willing to do just about anything, to prevent me from officially arresting her! If her old man ever found out what she's been up to..." He threw his head back and groaned aloud. "And I've just blackmailed her into letting me fuck her in her beautiful ass! Holy Cow, am I in DEEP shit!" Suddenly, there was a loud persistent knocking on the side glass and he lowered the electric window. "I... I forgot my purse," explained the disheveled redhead, before spotting the open purse in his hand. "You've found out, haven't you?" she gasped, clutching at her breast. "SHIT!" Phil realized that this was now a whole new ball game. He cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. "Your secret is safe with me, Ms. Gordon," he replied, respectfully, going red around the ears, as he replaced the license and handed over the girl's possessions. "But I think we need to talk more about this, don't you?" Barbara took the purse off him then nodded. "Y-Yes, I guess so, Officer... I don't even know your name!" "Thackeray, but you can call me Phil, if you want to! Nice to formally meet you, Barbara." They shook hands, a little self-consciously. Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 01 After a short, pregnant pause, during which they both grinned at each other, in embarrassment, Barbara broke the silence. "Give me a call at the Central Library, tomorrow... about noon. I work there during the day, by the way." She smiled, briefly. "We can do lunch and I can try to explain things! 'Bye, Officer Thackeray!" "Goodbye Ms. Gordon!" Phil replied, watching her turn and hurry away across the well-lit compound, her shapely ass swaying, fetchingly. "That girl has a figure to die for," he added, under his breath. He took out his notebook and pencil and wrote down her phone number, before wiping all trace of it from the condensation on the passenger window. Wednesday, 1:02 am The Caped Crusaders had spotted the street robbery taking place, from their vantage point, high on the flat rooftop of the Sheringdon Hotel, where the crime-busting duo had been maintaining a night-time vigil. "Follow me, Robin!" declared the Dark Knight, bounding over to the fire escape and clipping a line to the metal framework, before plunging down the hanging nylon rope at breathtaking pace, on the descending mechanism that was attached to it. The more gaudily dressed half of the crime-fighting duo, quickly followed his partner's example, mere seconds later. -oOo- "I said hand over all your cash and credit cards!" snarled the lanky individual in the pin-stripped suit and fedora hat, who was waving his bright, shiny, newly acquired handgun in the faces of the terrified middle-aged couple. "Do it, or I shall blow your fuckin' brains all over the goddamn sidewalk!" The plump, smartly dressed man gulped. Up until this point, he had steadfastly refused to comply with the punk's outrageous demands but he was starting to have second thoughts. "Give him what he wants, Henry," pleaded the terrified woman, obviously the man's wife, who was clinging tightly to his arm. "It isn't worth our lives, dearest!" The husband nodded, knowing that he had no other sensible choice. The guy had a crazed look on his face, as if he were high on drugs. "Okay, okay, I'm reaching for my wallet," he said, begrudgingly, moving slowly, as he took out his billfold from his inside jacket pocket. "Here!" The armed robber snatched the billfold from his chubby grasp. "And the watch!" he snarled, his eyes glittering, dangerously. The man slipped the expensive Rolex from his wrist and handed it over, without a word. "Now the bitch's jewelry!" "Noooo, please, not my necklace," protested the woman, tearfully, her hand moving to her throat. "It belonged to my late mother!" "Hand it over, bitch, unless ya want it to belong to her late daughter!" The hoodlum cackled with humorless laughter, at this clever retort, then scowled again, his finger tightening on the trigger, the gun barrel mere inches from the woman's forehead. "I ain't used ta saying things twice, bitch! Now, hand over...." Ooof!" The air rushed from his lungs, as a pair of booted feet struck him hard, in the small of his back, sending him staggering forward. He crashed, face first, into the brick wall, alongside his victim, before spinning around and falling to the sidewalk, beneath the light of the nearby streetlamp. Miraculously, he was still fully conscious and still holding the gun, as he staggered back to his feet, blood streaming from a deep cut in his forehead. "Batman?" he croaked, recognizing the approaching figure, with his bat-like cowl and yellow Bat-emblem on his Kevlar armored chest. Normally, he would have been terrified by the sight, but the reassuring feel of the piece in his hand, gave him added courage. "This is where you get yours, Caped Crusader!" he snarled. He raised the gun and fired, but just as he squeezed the trigger, a Karate chop to the back of his neck, caused him to lurch forward, ruining his aim. He staggered forward, half falling, only to be met by a raised knee, that caught him smack on the point of his jaw. With a low grunt of pain, he lost all interest in events. The gun went flying from his grasp, as he pitched forward, out like a light. Robin lightly ran over to the Dark Knight, who was holding his upper left arm and grimacing. "Are you alright, Batman?" he cried out, anxiously. "Just a slight graze, Boy Wonder! Luckily, you arrived in the nick of time and managed to upset his aim." The fat man rushed over to them. "Thank you, Batman," he gasped, in obvious relief. "How can we ever thank you?" The Costumed Crime-fighter smiled at him, from beneath his cowl. "No need to thank me sir! I am just another citizen of our fair city, doing his civic duty! Are you both alright?" The man nodded. "Yes, thanks to you and the Boy Wonder, here! I'm must reward you both, somehow." Batman held up a gauntleted right hand. "No need, sir, but if you insist on showing your appreciation, then please give generously to the Gotham City Police Benevolent Fund. Our gallant Boys in Blue need all the help they can get!" The man nodded, then hurried back to his trembling wife, who looked about ready to collapse. It had all been too much for her. Robin stooped to gather up the handgun. "Brand new!" he commented, turning the weapon over in his gloved hands. "There seems to have been a huge surge in armed robberies, over the last couple of weeks, Batman!" "Yes," agreed the Caped Crusader, "and I don't think it's merely a coincidence that the increase seems to have occurred since the GCPD armory was broken into! The sooner we track down those missing weapons, Robin, the better!" He took out his Bat-phone and called the GCPD, to request that they send someone out to collect some street trash, giving their current location. Wednesday, 1:17 am The ravishing red haired beauty unzipped the little black dress and shrugged it from her shoulders, before pushing it down off her shapely hips and stepping out of it. She had already kicked off her heels, glad to be home at last. Placing her hands on her hips, she gazed at the reflection in the dresser mirror. The image before her, was clad in just a clinging pair of red thong panties and black, lace topped hold-ups. There was just a hint of a bruise on her left cheek, where the cop had slapped her, and her makeup looked a real mess. "Heaven only knows what that cab driver must've thought?" she mused, gently stroking the bruised area. She sighed and, bending over, picked up the fallen dress, walked over to the closet and neatly hung it up. Then, sitting on the side of the bed, she carefully rolled off her sheer stockings and tucked them in a dresser drawer, before thumbing down her remaining item of underwear and stepping out of it. After dropping the skimpy red thong into the used laundry basket, she half-turned, to examine the reflection of her naked left buttock, where a dark bruise had already started to form, from its heavy impact with the floor, when she'd landed on her butt, earlier. "I shall get my own back," Barbara muttered, darkly, before going to the bathroom and taking a tube of antiseptic ointment out of the medicine cabinet. She then gently massaged some of the cream into the effected area of her pert derrière. Barbara had nominally arranged to meet Officer Thackeray, the following lunchtime, when she would have some serious explaining to do to the ruggedly handsome policeman. Still, once he had discovered her true identity, he seemed to have mellowed significantly. Officer Thackeray had promised to contact her at work, the following day, to arrange the actual rendezvous. "Perhaps I can enlist his aid in my investigation?" she mused, aloud. The thought seemed to cheer her up, strangely, and she felt a thrill of anticipation. She would certainly NOT be revealing the fact that she was also Batgirl, scourge of the Gotham City underworld. With a loud sigh, she pulled back the bed sheet and slipped her long, lithe body beneath it. Barbara usually slept in the nude and tonight would be no exception. It had certainly proved to be a long and eventful day. Wednesday, 9:57 am "Commissioner Gordon's office, his secretary speaking! How may I help you?" It was a little before ten o'clock, the following morning and Bonnie had just been thinking about fetching herself a nice hot cup of coffee from the vending machine along the hallway. "Hi, Bonnie, this is Barbara! Is daddy around?" said a familiar cheerful, female voice on the other end of the call. "Oh, hello Ms. Gordon," the long-serving secretary replied, her face lighting up. "I'm afraid your father is tied up in an important meeting, over in the Mayor's Parlor. He won't be free before early afternoon, I'm afraid." "How frustrating! Er, perhaps you could help me, Bonnie dear?" "If I can, Ms. Gordon? What appears to be the problem?" "I'm trying to find out a little background information on one of your uniformed police officers... for a friend of mine. Nothing of a restricted or private nature, you understand, just a general character reference." Barbara chuckled. "We wouldn't want her getting mixed up with the wrong sort, now would we?" Bonnie smiled. "I think I could manage that for you, dear. What's his name?" "Phil Thackeray; six feet two, blonde hair, blue eyes, with a cute..." "Er, yes, I get the picture," Bonnie replied, scrawling the officer's name on her notepad. "Could you give me half-an-hour or so, while I pop down to central records, then I'll ring you back. I take it that you're phoning from the library?" "Yes that's right!" "I'll get back to you as soon as possible. 'Bye Barbara, dear!" "'Bye Bonnie... and thanks!" -oOo- Is this the start of a new romance for the Dark Damsel? Will Batman's concerns about the rising gun crime in Gotham, be realized? For the answers to these and other intriguing questions you might have, dear reader, tune in for the next exciting chapter of 'Batgirl: Sex Bomb', coming soon to these web pages! Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 02 This story is the sixth in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures, mainly based on characters in the early Batman comics and that wonderful '60s TV series but with the timeline brought up to the present. Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal use. No copyright infringement is intended. The Adventures Of Batgirl Batgirl: Sex Bomb Chapter 2: A New Partner? Wednesday, 10:28 am The Assistant Chief Librarian looked up from her computer monitor and smiled at the pretty blonde girl, who had just breezed into her office, carrying a heavy file. "Thanks, Jen! Can you drop it on top of the file cabinet, please? I'll look at it later." Jennifer Goodbody, was Barbara's young Research Assistant, but the blue-eyed blonde was also her closest friend and sometimes lover. "Sure!" Jenny dropped the bulging file on top of the file cabinet, and then plumped her shapely, mini-skirted ass on the corner of Barbara's desk, for a quick chat. "You're looking unusually sexy today, Ms. Gordon," she commented, with a twinkle in her big blue eyes, crossing one nylon-encased leg over the other, thus causing her short skirt to ride up, alarmingly. "For work, that is," she added hastily, a big grin lighting up her pretty face. "How come?" Barbara was indeed looking unusually sexy. Her normal drab and often positively dowdy work clothes, had been replaced by a crisp white blouse and dark-blue miniskirt combination, combined with dark patterned hose and navy-blue high-heeled pumps. A lacy black half-cup bra could clearly be seen, through the semi-translucent material of her starched shirt and the top three buttons were unfastened, revealing a spectacular amount of cleavage. Barbara took off her horn-rimmed spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose, to help compose herself, before replying. "I, ah, I just felt like a change," she replied, lamely, trying not to blush. "Oh, yeah? What's his name?" "What's whose name?" "The guy, or is it a gal, that you've got all prettied up for?" Jenny replied, stubbornly. She had still felt a slight pang of jealousy, despite the fact that she was now dating Dick Grayson on a pretty regular basis and that she and Babs had not made love for several weeks. "I will have to remedy that oversight, as soon as possible," she thought, making a mental note. Barbara blushed a delicate shade of pink. "I... I don't know what you mean?" she blustered, giving Jenny her wide-eyed, innocent look, at the same time, squirming her ass and vainly trying to tug the hem of her short skirt down to a more respectable position. "Bullshit, kiddo! There was a fresh bounce to your step and a sparkle in your eyes, when you came in to work this morning. Some lucky guy, or gal, has got you wetting your panties, assuming you're wearing any. You may be able to fool everyone else, girl, but not me! Who is the lucky guy... or is it a she?" Barbara gave an exasperated sigh. There was no fooling Jennifer. Once the bubbly blonde had got her teeth into something, she never let go. "Okay, I DO have a lunch date," she reluctantly admitted, "but it is PURELY a business meeting!" "Oh, yeah?" There was no mistaking the disbelief in Jennifer's tone. "YES!" retorted Barbara. "If you must know, it's with a member of the Gotham City P.D. The officer's name is Phil Thackeray and I'm hoping he can help me with a little investigation that I've gotten involved in." "What sort of investigation?" Jennifer asked, her big blue eyes widening with excitement and curiosity. Barbara shook her head, firmly. "I'd rather not say, at the moment, Jen. It might all come to nothing." "Hmm? What's this Officer Thackeray like then?" enquired the blonde, determined to learn as much as possible, despite the redhead's obvious reluctance to talk about the topic. Barbara stared at the blonde for a moment, before making up her mind. "Well... he's about thirty years old, I guess? Tall, blonde and ruggedly handsome... if you like that sort of thing, but that's got nothing to do with it?" she added hastily, seeing a 'I told you so' smirk starting to form on younger girl's lips. "Yeah, yeah!" The blue-eyed blonde was grinning from ear to ear now, as she watched her friend squirm her shapely ass, on her seat, obviously hoping to bring this conversation to an early conclusion. "Mind if I tag along?" she asked, straight-faced. "Certainly NOT! Our business is PRIVATE!" Barbara snapped, taking the bait. Just then, the phone on her desk started to ring. "Excuse me, Jen!" Barbara picked up the hand piece. "Hello, Central Library, Barbara Gordon speaking," she said, in her best telephone voice. "How may I help you?" "Barbara, it's Bonnie! I've got that information your, ah, friend was after, dear." "Hang on!" Barbara placed her hand over the mouthpiece then looked over at Jennifer. "Do you mind, Jen? This is a private call!" she said, shooing the girl out of the office, with a wave of her free hand. The blonde nodded, a look of disappointment on her face, before sliding her ass off the corner of the desk and walked out the door, head held high and shoulders back, without uttering another word. "Sorry, Bonnie. I had someone in the office with me. What have you got for me?" "Well, it seems our man is regarded very favorably within the department. He's expected to rise rapidly through the ranks, maybe even reach the rank of Chief of Police, someday." "You don't say! Any black marks against his character? Any whiffs of suspicion, as regards him accepting any bribes or backhanders?" "You must be joking, dear. This guy is whiter than white and he already has a string of commendations against his name! Also, he came top of his class at the Police Academy and is the current GCPD 'Police Marksman of the Year'." "Oh?" Barbara was suitably impressed. She had obviously misjudged Officer Thackeray. "Unlikely to be involved in anything illegal then?" she queried. "Not this officer, he's as honest as they come!" Bonnie chuckled. "He does have one weakness though." "Oh, and what's that?" "He has a weakness for pretty women. He must have dated just about every pretty single gal on the force, since he joined us from the LAPD, some six months ago!" "I take it he's not married then?" Barbara enquired, feeling her heartbeat flutter, for some unaccountable reason. "Nope! Still footloose and fancy free! If I wasn't a happily married woman, I wouldn't mind him taking me out for dinner and a late show!" "BONNIE!" Barbara scolded, a little shocked. "Only kidding, dear!" Wednesday, 12:12 pm Officer Thackeray had phoned in earlier and arranged to meet Barbara in a small public park, which was just a few minutes walk from the Central Library. She sat down on a vacant wooden bench and tried to ignore the looks she was getting from some of the men passing by. Her outfit could've been a mistake, she realized. She tugged at the hem of her short skirt nervously before glancing at her wristwatch. "He's late!" she muttered, determined to keep her thighs pressed tightly together. She resisted an urge to take out her compact and check her makeup in the mirror. Suddenly, she spotted him approaching from the direction of the park gates, both hands full. She heaved a sigh of relief, as she rose to her feet to greet him. He wasn't wearing his police uniform, but instead, was dressed in a tight-fitting, faded pair of blue denim jeans and a white T-shirt, with the name of a heavy metal group printed across the front of it. "Very sensible," she decided. "His police uniform would have only drawn unwanted attention to us!" "Hi!" he greeted, cheerfully, smiling at her and causing her heart to flutter, for some unaccountable reason. He handed her one of the two steaming burgers, smothered in onions, that he was carrying, plus one of the two cans of diet soda. "I thought you might be hungry?" "Er, thank you!" she replied, taking the offering and forcing a smile to her lips. She NEVER ate hamburgers. They always went straight to her hips. "Shall we sit down?" he enquired. "Er, yes!" They both sat on the bench. "Better eat your lunch, before it gets cold!" he suggested, with a smile. "Mmm!" She started nibbling at the greasy burger, trying not to wrinkle up her nose in disgust or get grease all over her fingers. She didn't want to appear ungrateful. "So, you were going to explain why you've been moonlighting as a hooker in your evenings, Ms. Gordon?" he said, between generous bites of his burger. "You already have a well-paid, senior post at the library, I believe?" Barbara blushed. "Have you been checking up on me, Officer Thackeray?" she asked, raising a well-plucked eyebrow. He grinned, rather boyishly. "Of course, Ms. Gordon, but please call me Phil, it sounds much less formal!" They both lapsed into silence, as they munched away on their lunch. Finally, Barbara dumped the remains of her greasy meal in the wastebasket beside the bench, unable to stomach any more, and turned to the policeman. "I think I can trust you, Phil!" she said finally, making up her mind. He seemed like a basically nice guy. "I've been doing some undercover investigative work in my spare time, in the hope of finding out who was responsible for that major weapons heist from the GCPD armory, a few weeks ago." His eyes widened in surprise. "How on earth did you find out about that?" he demanded, with a frown. "That information has been deliberately suppressed from the public arena, on the express order of the Commissioner himself. It was thought that it might cause panic amongst the populous, if the news ever got out!" A look of realization suddenly crossed his handsome face. "Ah, of course, I should have realized, your father is Commissioner Gordon..." "I did NOT find out from daddy," she retorted, with a brief flash of anger, "but I do have my sources. From what I've learned, the thieves MUST have had some inside help, to circumvent all the security devices, without raising the alarm. Over a thousand assorted handguns and automatic weapons were stolen, together with dozens of boxes of ammunition, enough to supply a small private army." Phil nodded, grimly. "Yeah, that just about sums it up, Ms. Gordon." She continued. "I have been deliberately picking up police officers, in an attempt to find out who was the culprit or culprits and hoping to find out where the gang has stashed the cache of weapons. Men will often grow careless with their words, when they are in bed with a pretty woman." She gave a resigned shrug of her shoulders, causing her breasts to jiggle, delightfully. "Unfortunately, I've had very little success, up to now!" Phil stared at her, incredulously. "Don't you realize how incredibly foolhardy you've been behaving, Barbara?" he exclaimed, grabbing her forearms and giving her a good old-fashioned shaking. "You could have gotten yourself killed or... or even worse, you silly little fool!" He added, darkly, "Just because your dad is the Commissioner of Police, doesn't give you any God-given right to poke your pretty nose into police business! This is a job for the hardened professionals, not some well-meaning, amateur female detective!" Barbara's temper flared up again, at the implied insult. "Well, the so-called professionals haven't had much success up 'til now, either!" she retorted, as she pulled free of his grasp. "MEN, why do they all turn out to be male chauvinist pigs?" she asked herself, under her breath, blinking back the tears. "You silly idiot!" he snapped. "Have you NO common sense? Who do you think you are, Batgirl? I ought to put you over my knee and give you a good spanking!" Barbara's eyes opened wide with shock. "You wouldn't DARE!" she thundered, tightly clenching both fists in her lap. "Oh, wouldn't I?" Before she could make another retort, he grabbed her and pulled her over his lap, pinning her down with one hand. "Lemme go, you big oaf!" the redhead cried, squirming sexily, as she tried to break free of his grasp. He ignored her plea and pushed up the back of her short skirt, revealing her tight little panties clad ass. With a thrill of fear, Barbara realized what he was about to do. "You... you wouldn't DARE!" she shrieked, desperately wiggling her ass, trying to escape, but his superior weight and strength, easily pinned her down. Then her big green eyes widened with shock, as she felt him yank down her skimpy item of underwear, revealing her shapely naked ass to all who cared to look. "Noooooooo," she protested, shaking her head, "you mustn't!" Moments later, the flat of his hand landed on her shapely naked buttocks with a loud, stinging THWACK! "Yeeeeow! You, you BEAST!" she cried, her hips jerking under the sharp blow. THWACK! "Aaiiieee!" She jerked again. "That hurt, you pig! I shall have you arrested for common assault!" "Shut up, you spoiled little brat!" THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! He gave her three further hard stinging slaps, leaving bright red blotches on her pert round derriere, before he released her. "I hope that has taught you a lesson, young lady?" he snapped, calming down somewhat. Barbara scrambled up to her high-heeled feet, quickly pulling her panties back up and tugging her miniskirt down, thus hiding the fresh red marks. "You swine! What would you have done, if someone had happened along, while you were doing that?" she gasped, red-faced, but with a look of grudging respect in her big green eyes. She gingerly sat back down beside him, clenching her throbbing buttocks together to ease the pain. He smiled at her. "I would have told them I was an officer of the law, just performing my civic duty!" Barbara didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Instead, she stared at him, open-mouthed. "This man is so... so conceited!" she told herself, under her breath. His expression suddenly became serious, and he reached out and placed a firm hand on her left knee. "Look, Barbara, you must promise to stop acting crazy and picking up total strangers for sex! You have been taking the most unbelievable risks! You could have ended up as a lifeless corpse in some back alley, you silly little fool!" "I can look after myself, thank you very much!" she retorted, angrily. "Perhaps far better than you realize," she added, under her breath. "If you don't, I shall be forced to have a quiet word with your father!" the blond-haired policeman threatened, in a calm voice. "Noooo, you mustn't!" Barbara gasped, alarm mirrored in her big, green eyes. "It's for your own good, Ms. Gordon! In the meantime, I promise to start asking around, to see if I can come up with some clues as to who was behind the weapons heist. I promise to keep you fully informed of any progress I might make." Barbara forced herself to calm down and nodded, reluctantly. "Very well, I promise, but you must ensure that daddy never gets to hear a word of this?" Phil nodded, somewhat relieved that she had finally begun to see sense. He had started to feel very protective about this sexy but headstrong beauty. "You can take your hand off my knee, now!" she added, softly, with a coy little smile. "What? Oh, sorry!" He jerked his hand away, as if she were red hot. "I think we should meet, regularly... to discuss any progress," he added, hurriedly. "Uh, huh! And you still have to tell me when you want to screw me in the ass? I did agree to it last night, remember?" He blushed, all the way to the roots of his blond hair. "I, ah, I was only joshing, Barbara! I didn't really mean what I said," he protested, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "But I'm a girl of my word," she insisted, trying to keep her face straight, enjoying seeing him squirm for a change. "I DID promise to let you fuck me in the ass, Phil darling!" She reached out and brushed her hand over the prominent bulge that had formed in the front of his pants. The policeman jumped to his feet, as though a bee had just stung him on the end of his cock. "I, er, I have to be going! I shall be in touch, tomorrow. We can discuss this further, then! 'Bye, Ms. Gordon!" "Goodbye, Officer Thackeray, I shall look forward to it," she purred, deliberately crossing her legs and allowing her short skirt to ride up her upper thigh to an arrestable degree. His gaze was drawn to her panties covered crotch and he swallowed hard before dragging his eyes away and hurrying off along the path, as fast as his legs would take him, without actually breaking into a stampede. Wednesday, 10:15 pm Batgirl slid down into the vast subterranean cavern, her long shapely legs tightly wrapped around the stainless steel fireman's pole that rose up into stately Wayne Manor, above. "Hello, folks!" she greeted, cheerily, walking over toward the three people clustered around the Bat-computer, her hips swaying, sexily and her heels clicking on the chiseled rock floor. Batgirl was wearing the latest sexy incarnation of her Bat-costume, one that her three fellow crime-fighters all strongly disapproved of. It consisted of a skintight purple Lycra catsuit, black ankle boots with five-inch heels, and a black Bat-cowl that covering most of her head. The latter also incorporated a mask that covered her upper face and eyes, to avoid her real identity being discovered. Two pointed bat ears, thrust up from the sides of the cowl, containing electronic sound sensors that gave her almost bat-like hearing. A yellow utility belt, incorporating numerous compartments, was slung low on her shapely hips. "Alfred said the gang were all down here." "Hello Stranger," Batman answered, sarcastically, glancing up at the costumed vision of delight. "Long time no see!" "I've been pretty busy, these last few weeks," she protested, a little guiltily, her smile faltering. "Hello, Batgirl!" added Robin, a little coolly. Barbara noticed that his right arm was draped about Sparrow's slim waist, and his hand was resting on her sexy ass, possessively. The two had become a bit of an 'item' over recent months. "Hey, Batgirl!" greeted Sparrow, the blue-eyed, blonde avenger, otherwise known as Jennifer Goodbody. "How did your meeting with that policeman go?" Jen had been unable to cross-examine her friend at the library, earlier in the day, but she was determined to learn all the juicy facts now. "What's this about a meeting with a police officer?" enquired Batman, his interest aroused. "His name is Phil Thackeray. Phil's a nice guy and he has agreed to help me try to track down the gang who robbed the police arsenal, recently. The official investigation seems to have come up against a brick wall!" "Hmm, a strange coincidence! Robin and I have only recently involved ourselves in the very same investigation." The Caped Crusader rubbed the bandage wrapped about his upper arm and grimaced, slightly. Batgirl's eyes grew large, as she noticed the tightly wrapped medical dressing for the first time. "What happened?" she gasped, hurrying over to him, concern clearly showing on her face. "A slight flesh wound, nothing to worry yourself about, my dear. The interesting thing is, that the bullet was fired from a standard police issue, Heckler and Koch semi-automatic pistol and, according to the Bat-computer's weapons database, the serial number was that of one of the weapons stolen from the police armory." "Wow, our first clue! Did you manage to apprehend the gunman?" "Yes, a sleazy character named Tony Angelotti, who's served several short stretches for carjacking and petty theft. We interrupted him, during his very first attempt at armed robbery. If it hadn't been for Robin, I may have suffered a far more serious injury! This recent proliferation of guns on the Gotham streets is a serious escalation in the level of day to day crime." Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 02 They all solemnly nodded their agreement. "Where did he say he got the gun from?" Batgirl asked, her green eyes now alight with barely suppressed excitement. "So far, Angelotti has refused to reveal the source," replied the Dark Knight, with an apologetic shrug of his broad shoulders. "Yeah, he claims to have won it in a poker game, the week before," added the Boy Wonder, angrily punching one gloved fist into the palm of the other. "He told us that the guy who threw it into the pot, was a stranger from out of town! If they had left me alone with that low-life punk, for just five minutes, I would've wrung the truth out of his scrawny neck!" "Calm yourself, Boy Wonder! Even criminals have their rights under the United States constitution," replied Batman, firmly. Robin was an excellent crime-fighting partner, but he was prone to be a little headstrong, on occasion. "Sorry, Bruce!" replied the Boy Wonder, calming down and looking suitably sheepish. "So, some of the stolen weapons have started to appear on the streets?" mused Batgirl, striking a pose, with hands on her hips and feet planted firmly apart, unaware of the devastating effect this had on most men, including these two. "That is correct, Girl Wonder!" confirmed the masked vigilante, a little hoarsely, trying not to stare at the incredible breasts being thrust out in his direction. Her prominent nipples seemed about to explode out of her tightly stretched purple costume. The clearly visible, snug-fitting black thong barely covered her sex. -oOo- Phil had been true to his word. He'd had a quiet word with Captain Schmitt, his immediate superior in the uniformed branch, requesting permission to look into the case, and the senor officer had reluctantly given him permission to review all the relevant data, including unrestricted access to the relevant databases on the central police computer, on the strict understanding that Phil kept him fully informed of any progress he might make. "What you hope to discover, that isn't already in the official file, is beyond me?" Captain Schmitt had added, with a resigned shrug, as Phil had turned to leave his office. Subsequently, Phil had been asking around, in as casual a manner as possible, trying to ascertain all the GCPD employees who'd worked in the armory just prior to the robbery, or who'd had access to the high security information about the underground area where the force's armament reserves were located. The sophisticated alarm systems had been disabled, during the break-in and the unsuspecting officers on duty, had been overpowered, then tied up and gagged. Luckily, no one had been seriously injured during the armed heist. Thursday, 10:00 am The automobile made its way along the meandering drive, through the dense wooded area that surrounded the grim looking cluster of buildings that was known as New Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. The prison and correctional institute, was situated just to the north of Gotham City, USA. The main building was a Victorian style structure that had first been converted into a house for the criminally insane by the late Dr. Amadeus Arkham in 1921. The institution had subsequently passed into the hands of the City Authority, after his death in 1963. Since then, various modern additions had been built on to the original structure, and it was now used to house some of Gotham's most mentally disturbed criminal elements. The unmarked vehicle moved clear of the woods and cruised up to the front of the main house. Well-groomed lawns with numerous powerful floodlights at the perimeter stretched out to either side of the driveway. A uniformed and armed guard, stepped up to the vehicle, as it crunched to a halt on the gravel drive outside the main entrance, and he helped the lone occupant out of the driver's seat. "Thank you," the man said, gruffly, straightening his uniform jacket, as he rose to his full height. The visitor had been expected, and the security man was there to escort him to the cell of Prisoner 143, in the High Security Wing of the establishment. Normally, the caretaker and nominal director of the institute, Jeremiah Arkham, would have been there to greet any important visitors, but he was currently away in Europe, on a fact-finding mission. "Please follow me, sir!" the guard announced, once the formalities were over and the senor member of the GCPD had established his credentials. This was entirely unnecessary, since the policeman had been a frequent visitor to Arkham, over the past few months, and was well known to the staff. After signing the visitor's book, he followed the guard and waited, patiently, as they ascended in the small elevator, then passed through several sets of electronic controlled, barred and sliding security doors, before arriving in the High Security Wing. As they walked along, between the two rows of identical jail cells, the jailer accompanied them, eventually stopping to override the high-tech door lock on the cell containing Prisoner 143 with an electronic key fob. The motorized, barred steel door slid smoothly aside, on well-oiled runners, and the visitor stepped inside. As the door closed and automatically locked again, behind him, he turned and stared out through the steel bars, at his escort. "You may both leave us now," he said, quietly. "I will call you, when I'm ready to leave." They both nodded. He watched them walk away, then turned back to face the ghastly, pale, grinning features and bright green hair of The Joker, who was hunched forward, perched on the edge of his bunk bed. He had originally got involved with the Clown Prince of Crime when the gruesome master criminal had accidentally blundered upon a sweet little protection racket that he'd been operating, along with several fellow officers. Initially, the Joker had blackmailed the lawman into working for him, but their mutual criminal activities, had since developed into a very profitable partnership. "What took you so long?" the Clown Prince of Crime demanded, his belligerent tone belying the permanent hideous grin on his pasty white face, the result of an accidental plunge into a vat of toxic chemical waste. The policeman shuddered, inwardly. He still couldn't get used to that ghastly visage. "I had to wait for the heat to die down," the senor officer protested, walking over to him. "Commissioner Gordon is convinced that the armed robbers had inside help in breaking into the armory!" "Any idiot could've figured that one out, but he has no idea who that might be... HAS HE?" "N-No! I covered my tracks perfectly. I thought we'd finally put the investigation to bed, but one of the junior officers suddenly started sniffing around, yesterday, asking some awkward questions. This guy is highly intelligent, but what's worse, he's a tenacious bastard!" "WHAT?" "Don't worry, I've taken steps to ensure he doesn't get in our way!" The gruesome maniac relaxed somewhat and lent back against the wall of the cell. "Good, good! In that case, continue to sell the guns, we need the revenue. Now, it's time to commence with the second phase of my master plan. This is what I want you to do..." Thursday, 10:32 am As he walked into the locker room, to get changed into his uniform, prior to going out on patrol, Officer Phil Thackeray was feeling more than a little frustrated. He had just come from the GCPD armory, where he'd been questioning the officer in charge, Bill Murray, and a couple of the other guys currently working down there, about the recent robbery, but none of them had actually been on duty, on that particular night. The armory not only consisted of the firearms store, but also included the indoor firing range, where Phil regularly spent time sharpening up his already considerable marksman skills, plus a small repair and refurbishment workshop. So far, he hadn't come up with a single lead that might point him in the direction of the bent cop, who had almost certainly been a key figure in ensuring that the weapon's heist had gone so smoothly. The robbers had been long gone with their massive haul, before any of the other police officers on duty at headquarters that night, even realized there had been a break-in. Phil was also surprised and disappointed by the apparent lack of resources that were being plowed into such a serious investigation, by his superior officers. Arriving at his battered metal locker, he paused, as he was about to unlock and open the door. Someone had stuck a yellow sticky yellow note on the front just bellow his nameplate. He frowned, peeled it off, and read the words scrawled upon it in penciled block capitols: 'MISSING GUNS -- TRY THE PINK ARMADILLO'. "What the hell does that mean?" he wondered, scratching his head. Was someone trying to give him an anonymous tip-off about the gun heist? He glanced along the row of lockers, to a fellow officer, who was getting dressed some four or five lockers along. "Hey, Mick," he called. "Ever heard of something called 'The Pink Armadillo'?" The younger policeman's eyes widened. "Yeah, sure Phil, it's a bar but it ain't your sort of place." "How d'ya mean?" Phil asked, looking confused. Mick grinned. "Well, it's one of those Gay bars that are springing up all over the place, these days! You ain't on the turn, are you, ol' buddy?" Phil blushed, despite himself. "Hell no, but I might have to pop in the place later, to ask a few questions about a case I'm working on," he explained. "In that case, better hang onto your crown jewels!" Mick advised, with a broad smirk on his youthful face, positioning his uniform cap firmly on his head, before turning to leave. -oOo- Has Barbara Gordon fallen for the handsome young policeman, despite having her bottom spanked by him? Who is the mysterious police officer who is in league with the Joker? Will Phil discover any clues to the perpetrators of the gun heist at 'The Pink Armadillo' or is it just a trick played on him by his fellow officers? For the answers to these and any other intriguing questions you might have, tune in for the next chapter of 'Batgirl: Sex Bomb', coming to this website, shortly! Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 03 This story is the sixth in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures, mainly based on characters in the early Batman comics and that wonderful '60s TV series but with the timeline brought up to date. Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal use. No copyright infringement is intended. The Adventures Of Batgirl Batgirl: Sex Bomb Chapter 3: If The Noose Fits... Thursday, 12:44 pm Phil parked up the black and white in the first available parking space, then walked back the fifty yards or so, to the gaudily painted entrance to The Pink Armadillo. The gay bar looked busy enough, with a healthy sized lunchtime crowd filling the place and the pounding beat of loud pop music cutting through the smoke-laden atmosphere. He strode through the doorway, into the relatively dimly lit interior, his leather service-issue boots clunking on the wooden flooring. The general hubbub died down, as he walked over toward the counter, as all eyes turned to check out the uniformed newcomer. Phil casually glanced around the room. The place was full of men, mostly in pairs, with a few of them holding hands. Two guys were dancing, intimately, over by an old-fashioned jukebox. Phil swallowed, nervously. He figured he was probably the only guy in the place, who wasn't wearing makeup and he felt a faint tingle of apprehension run up his spine. "What can I do for you, officer?" enquired the barkeep, a big, bald-headed, powerfully built guy, who obviously worked out a lot. He was wearing a pair of tight denim jeans and a black leather vest without a shirt beneath it. A nametag on the vest, just above his left pectoral, proclaimed his name as 'Hans'. His muscular arms were covered in an intricate pattern of tattoos. He continued to dry and polish a glass tumbler on a cleaning cloth, while he eyed the tall, blond policeman up and down, obviously liking what he saw. "Er, has anyone been asking for me?" Phil enquired, going red around the ears, not quite sure where to begin. The note could've been some sort of gag played on him by one of his fellow officers, but he didn't think so. "It depends on who YOU are, Big Boy?" the bartender replied, a broad grin lighting up his ugly features. Phil found himself blushing even more. "Officer Phil Thackeray, GCPD," he replied, trying to sound as authoritative as possible. Phil didn't regard himself as being homophobic, but there was no way that he was going to do anything that might encourage the advances of this obviously homosexual person. The guy's eyes opened wide and he placed a hand on his waist, as he deliberately struck an effeminate pose. "So, you're Officer Thackeray, huh? Yeah, there wuz a couple of guys in here earlier, askin' after you, handsome. Claimed they had some important information for you!" Phil's eyes lit up. "What sort of information?" "Search me, officer? I ain't their confidant. Never seen either one of 'em before today." "Are they still around?" Phil asked, trying to keep the note of excitement out of his voice. "I think they may still be out back? Through that door over there!" The bartender nodded toward a closed door at the rear of the smoke-filled room. It had the words 'STAFF ONLY' stenciled upon it. "Thanks!" As the policeman turned and headed for the indicated doorway, he didn't see the barkeep press a small red button, just under the lip of the counter, or the smug, knowing grin on his ugly mug. As he opened the door and stepped through, Phil kept his right hand hovering over his holstered service pistol, just in case. He found himself in a narrow, dimly lit hallway, with a couple of doors leading off from it, on the right-hand side and another closed door at the far end, no doubt leading to the rear yard of the premises. "Hello, is anyone there?" he called out. There was no answer, just the muffled sound of the music filtering through from the smoky room he'd just left. "Anyone here?" There was still no reply. Phil didn't like the look of this and considered calling in and asking for some backup. Pulling out his service pistol, he gently tried the handle of the nearest door. The door was unlocked. He eased it open a few inches and stuck his head inside the room. "Anyone aroun..." His words were cut off, as the heavy butt of a gun slammed down on the back of his skull and he slumped to the floor, unconscious, with just the briefest of groans. A giant of a man stepped from alongside the doorway and stood astride the motionless policeman, who was sprawled out on the carpet, face down. Blood was already starting to seep out of nasty looking wound on the back of his head. "The plan worked like a dream, Shorty, just like the boss said it would!" the big man chortled, addressing his companion, a puny, undernourished type, wearing a multi-colored Hawaiian shirt, white slacks and a black derby perched on the back of his head, who had just watched the scene unfold. "I still don't like it!" muttered Shorty, shaking his head and staring up at his tall but somewhat overweight partner, Bull. "Kidnappin' a cop ain't part of the original deal! At some point, we shall have to bump this guy off." "So?" "Cop killers are always hunted down, no matter how long it takes," the short guy replied, darkly. "You've been readin' too many cheap detective novels. By then, we will be long gone, and rich beyond our wildest dreams. I figure we've really fallen on our feet, this time." -oOo- When Officer Thackeray hadn't reported in for more than an hour, Dispatch tried to contact him, without success. Like most other dispatchers, police dispatchers were usually civilians employed by the department. Their duties included monitoring the location of on-duty police officers and dispatching the appropriate type and number of units, in response to calls for assistance. Fifteen minutes later, with still no response, the female dispatcher reported her concerns to her immediate superior. Two hours later, the empty cruiser was located and a city-wide hunt for the missing officer was immediately set into motion. Thursday, 4:20 pm Police Commissioner Jim Gordon, looked up from his desk, at the two costumed crime-fighters standing before him, arms folded across their manly chests and booted feet placed slightly apart. "Thank you for coming in at such short notice, gentlemen, but a very worrying situation has arisen," he began, a grave look on his face. "One of our finest officers has disappeared, while carrying out further investigations into the recent weapons heist, that occurred right here in police headquarters, as you are no doubt aware." He paused, an embarrassed expression on his face, before continuing. "The young officer's name is Phil..." "...Thackeray," finished off the Caped Crusader, with a grave nod. "Yes, Commissioner, Robin and I were already aware of his recent involvement in this case." Jim Gordon's eyes had widened in astonishment. "You never fail to amaze me, Batman!" he gasped. "It was only yesterday afternoon, that Officer Thackeray was given permission to re-open what appeared to be an investigation which had all but ground to an unsatisfactory halt." The Dark Knight smiled, grimly. "I do have my independent sources, Commissioner. I don't think it is merely a coincidence that Officer Thackeray disappeared after becoming involved in this particular case. Now, do you have any further details about the officer's last known movements?" Commissioner Gordon nodded. "His police cruiser was found parked about fifty yards from a city centre 'Gay Bar', with the ridiculous name of 'The Pink Armadillo', a notorious hang-out for some of Gotham City's low-life, who are that way inclined." The Commissioner snorted, indignantly, before continuing. "He disappeared sometime after 12:30 pm., which was the last time he reported in on his police radio." "And there is nothing to suggestion that this particular officer was gay and had maybe been paying a, um, a social visit to this particular bar?" "Certainly NOT, Caped Crusader! None of my officers would socialize, while on duty. Anyway, another of my officers has since come forward to say that Thackeray had spoken to him earlier, and said he was going there 'to ask questions'!" "Did this other officer learn any more about the reason for this visit?" Jim Gordon shook his head. "No, unfortunately." "Hmm? Have your men questioned the staff at this bar, Jim?" "Of course, Caped Crusader, but they claimed that Officer Thackeray never even set foot inside the place." "Maybe he didn't? Leave it with us, old friend, and we'll try to get to the bottom of this." "Yeah, if Officer Thackeray is still alive, we'll find him, Commissioner," added the Boy Wonder, punching one gloved fist into the palm of his other hand, for added emphasis. Thursday, 4:31 pm Barbara stared at the telephone on her desk, willing the damned thing to start ringing. She had just checked her watch for the umpteenth time. Phil had promised to phone her, with an update on any progress he had made on the case. Hopefully, he would also ask to meet her somewhere, after work, so they could map out their future strategy. She sighed in frustration and continued to stare at the phone. She slid a hand up under her short skirt and eased her fingers under the waistband of her lacy panties. Stiffened fingers began to saw up and down against her labia, as she attempted to relief the sexual tension that had been building up all day. She threw her head and shoulders back, eyes closed, as her breathing became ragged and uneven, her hand rubbing ferociously against her hot, aching sex. Small delighted gasps started to escape from between her slack lips. “Ah, ah, ahh!” Brrring, brrring! Brrring, brrring... The ringing phone caused her to give a guilty start and she pulled her hand out of her panties and snatched up the receiver. "Yes?" she gasped into the mouthpiece, still a little breathless. "Barbara, is that you?" enquired a familiar voice on the other end of the line. "Bruce?" She didn't know whether to laugh, hysterically, or to cry. She frowned, as she realized the unusual nature of the call. "What's up, Bruce, what's happened?" she demanded, tugging down the hem of her skirt with her free hand. "I'm currently in my Batman persona, by the way. Are you all right, Barbara? You sound a little breathless." "Why did you call me, Batman?" she asked, through clenched teeth. "It's Officer Thackeray, Barbara." Barbara felt a cold chill run down her spine. "W-What's happened, Batman?" she demanded, her stomach tightening into a hard knot. "He's disappeared! We're pretty certain he was working on the weapons heist case, at the time." "DAMN! It's all my fault! I was the one who dragged him in on this investigation." Barbara felt tears starting to well up in her eyes. "Don't be silly! It's not your fault, Barbara. Thackeray must have built himself a damned good reputation, in the short time he's been with the GCPD, for them to take him out of the picture, before he'd barely got started in on the case. At least there's no indication that they've got rid of him permanently! We suspect he's been kidnapped, by the way." "Where are you? I'll get over there as fast as I can!" "Now don't go getting your panties all in a twist, Barbara! There's nothing you can do about it, at the moment. Robin and I will meet you back in the Bat-cave, in an hour's time." Barbara felt a flush of indignation at the implied insult. "But, Batman..." "No 'buts', see you there. Better wear your Batgirl outfit. I will let you know all the details when you get there." "But, I..." There was a click, as the call was abruptly terminated. "Damn, damn, damn!" she muttered, replacing the receiver then clenching both fists by her sides, in frustration. She glanced up at the clock on the office wall. "I'll have to leave work a little early. I'm sure Mr. Peabody won't mind," she muttered, jumping up and heading for the door, collecting her coat on the way out. Thursday, 4:48 pm Officer Phil Thackeray's mind slowly swam back to consciousness and he swayed, drunkenly, almost collapsing. His legs felt like they were made of rubber and his head throbbed with pain. He realized that the low groans that he could hear, were issuing from his own lips. As his eyes slowly fluttered open, he realized that he was standing in an upright position, supported by two sets of hands, which were firmly gripping his forearms. His wrists appeared to be crossed and tightly bound together, behind his back. It was at this point, that he realized he was naked. This wasn't strictly accurate, since he was still wearing his boxer shorts, but all his other items of clothing had been stripped off him. As the surroundings swam into focus, Phil realized he was no longer in The Pink Armadillo, but in some sort of a large hanger or warehouse, long since abandoned if the dusty, dilapidated look of the place was anything to go by. A solitary beam of early evening sunlight shone through a cracked and filthy skylight, in the corrugated steel roof, reflecting off a myriad of dust particles suspended in the atmosphere. He seemed to be standing, somewhat precariously, on a rickety wooden chair, with his ankles bound together. Something coarse and tight fitting had been placed around his neck and he cautiously turned his head, to peer behind him, out of the corner of his eye. His blood ran cold, as he realized that his neck had been placed in a hangman's noose. The sturdy hemp rope had been looped over an overhead girder before being tied off to a large double hook fixed to the nearby wall, after first taking up the slack in the line. The set of hands gripping his right arm, released him, and their owner stepped around in front of him. He was a little runt of a guy, wearing a multi-colored Hawaiian shirt and a black derby hat. A pair of narrow black suspenders worn over his oversized shirt supported his baggy white trousers. "Wha..." Phil's mouth struggled to form the word. He felt as if he was going to be violently sick at any moment. "Wha... what happened? W-Why? Why have you done this to me?" he finally managed to get out. At that same moment, his brain finally registered the faint sickly-sweet smell of chloroform, still clinging to his hair and skin. The man gave him a mirthless smile, revealing a set of chipped and nicotine stained teeth in the process. "Bull is now gonna release your other arm, copper. Try not ta fall off of that chair, or it will be the last thing you will ever do! Har, har, har!" "But why?" croaked the still groggy law officer. He could feel something wet and sticky trickling down behind his right ear and he instinctively knew that it was his own blood, coming from the throbbing wound in the back of his skull. "The boss figured it wouldn't be long before ya got on the trail of the gun thieves, Thackeray, so he decided on a pre-emptive strike. He reckons you're the closest thing to a bloodhound that the police department has. Har, har, har!" The short hoodlum was now joined by his tall hefty companion, Bull. Phil blinked his eyes, taking in the description of the second man, while trying not to lose his precarious balance on the rickety old chair. "Kind of your boss to say so!" he croaked, ironically. "Yeah, with you outta the equation, we can continue with our plans, uninterrupted," added Bull, a big grin on his ugly mug. He ran his hot, hungry eyes up and down the athletic figure of the near-naked policeman and licked his thick lips. "An' maybe have us a little fun, at the same time?" he added, followed by a fresh chuckle. He reached out a hand and brushed his fingertips over the front of the policeman's boxers, before cupping his testicles through the material and gently squeezing them. "Who... who is your boss?" Phil asked, gruffly, trying to ignore the touch and keep his thighs from trembling. "Neither of you seem to have sufficient gray matter to be the brains behind this caper." "Wouldn't ya like to know, Mr. Nosy Policeman," retorted Shorty. Both hoodlums cackled, mirthlessly. "Now don't try nothing stupid, while we're away," he added. "An' try not to fall asleep or you will never wake up again! Har, har, har!" They both turned and exited through a nearby door, still chuckling, leaving the police officer alone in his perilous predicament. Thursday, 5:29 pm "Okay, what the hell happened?" snapped Batgirl, storming over and standing with both clenched fists on her hips, her fabulous size 36C breasts thrust forward, belligerently, beneath the clinging stretch material of her sexy sheer Bat-costume. Batman rose up out of the chair in front of the Bat-computer, to meet the Dynamic Dare Doll head on. "Calm down, Batgirl. This is no time to let your heart rule your pretty little head," he advised. "What the hell is THAT supposed to mean?" she snapped, angrily, tears glistening in her big green eyes. Batman could be such a stuffy pain in the butt at times. "If we're going to locate and rescue Officer Thackeray, we ALL need to remain cool, calm and collected," the Caped Crusader replied, seriously. Barbara blinked away her tears and started to calm down. Batman was right of course. "Sorry, Caped Crusaders! Okay, what do we know about Officer Thackeray's disappearance?" "Apparently, he was checking out a 'Gay Bar', known as 'The Pink Armadillo', located in the heart of Gotham City's entertainment district, about 11:30 this morning, when he disappeared," explained the Boy Wonder. "A GAY bar?" exclaimed the Dark Damsel, in an incredulous tone. "Why on earth would he be visiting a 'Gay Bar'?" "Maybe he was gay himself?" replied Robin, with a dirty snigger. "NO WAY!" she snapped, vigorously shaking her cowled head. "That is one thing I am CERTAIN of." Batman and Robin exchanged knowing glances, eyebrows raised. "Actually, we think the place may have something to do with the weapons heist," Batman explained. "His police cruiser was found parked nearby and we understand that he was going there to ask a few questions, but the employees and customers of the bar, all claim they never set eyes on him." "Somebody's lying," Batgirl snapped, her green eyes glittering with barely restrained anger. "Probably!" Batman agreed, non-committally. "So, what do we do next? The longer we stand here, dithering, the greater the chance that his abductors will finish Phil off... PERMANENTLY!" "We are NOT dithering!" retorted the Caped Crusader, indignantly. "We intend to visit the place tonight and throttle the truth out of them if we have to," Robin added, smacking one gloved fist into the palm of the other. "Hopefully, we will find someone who can shed some light on events," Batman corrected, frowning at his youthful partner's outburst. "I want to come with you," Batgirl insisted. "I'm afraid it's a 'Men Only' establishment, Batgirl." "And you could hardly be mistaken for a man," Robin added, with a broad smirk on his youthful features. "Especially in that particular outfit!" It was clearly evident that the only item of underwear the Dark Angel was wearing beneath her sheer catsuit, was a tightly clinging, black thong and that was barely fit for purpose. The redhead found herself blushing under his penetrating gaze. The Boy Wonder's hot eyes seemed to be trying to undress her. "I still insist on coming!" she said, stubbornly. "Hmm, yes! Very well, you can come with us, but you will have to remain outside," Batman agreed, reluctantly. "If we're not out of the place after fifteen minutes, you'd better contact the police and get them to raid the establishment." Barbara nodded her agreement, realizing it was the best deal she was going to get. Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 03 Thursday, 5:35 pm With a sudden start, Phil just managed to recover his balance. He shook his head to help dispel the fatigue and forced open his heavy drooping eyelids. "Mustn't fall asleep," he muttered, as he struggled to maintain his precarious stance on the rickety wooden perch. If he'd fallen off the chair, or accidentally knocked it over, he would surely have hung himself. He forced several deep breaths into his lungs then commenced twisting and tugging at the rope that restrained his wrists behind his back. They were already chafed raw from his previous attempts to free his hands. His body temperature had fallen dangerously low and he felt sick and light-headed. The trickle of blood from his head wound, seemed to have dried up though, thank goodness. "Must stay awake," he told himself, "only hope." He tried to focus his thoughts and recall the events leading up to his current situation. He remembered entering the narrow hallway in the rear of 'The Pink Armadillo' and cautiously opening the first door leading off from it. Someone must have been waiting in ambush for him. They had zapped him over the head with something hard and heavy. "It had to be a set-up," he groaned. "Why, oh why didn't I hold fast and call for backup? IDIOT!" He considered how he had ended up in his present predicament. "They must've transported me to this place while I was unconscious!" he muttered, and then recollected the faint odor of chloroform that he'd noticed, earlier. "Obviously taking no chance that I might have woken up, prematurely." He raised his head and peered around at his gloomy surroundings. He was positioned close to one end of what looked like some large, old, storage facility, mainly constructed from steel girders and corrugated steel sheeting. The dusty concrete floor was otherwise empty, apart from a jumble of rotting wooden pallets in the far corner. Sliding wooden doors, with peeling paintwork, at the opposite end of the structure, appeared to be securely padlocked shut. The only light that filtered in came through several filthy glass skylights set high in the sloping roof. The only other means of access to the building was the nearby sturdy wooden door, through which his two abductors had exited, earlier. Phil realized that in his weakened condition, he would be unable to maintain his balance on the chair for much longer, before the final curtain came down on his comparatively short life. "And things were just starting to get interesting with the sexy Ms. Gordon," he mused, regretfully. -oOo- Is this the end for Officer Phil Thackeray or will he manage to survive his perilous situation? Or will the Caped Crusaders find and rescue him in the nick of time? And who is the evil mastermind behind this fiendish crime? For the answers to these and other things that may still be perplexing you, dear reader, don't miss the forthcoming chapter of 'Batgirl: Sex Bomb', arriving on your favorite website, soon! Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 04 This story is the sixth in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures, mainly based on characters in the early Batman comics and that wonderful '60s TV series but with the timeline brought up to the present. Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal use. No copyright infringement is intended. The Adventures Of Batgirl Batgirl: Sex Bomb Chapter 4: The Bat & The Armadillo Thursday, 6:00 pm The key turned smoothly in the high security lock fitted to the front door of his condo and Captain Peter Schmitt pushed it open and walked in. He slammed the door shut behind him, glad to be home at last, before stripping off his tunic jacket and hanging it on the coat rack in the hallway. He unbuckling his gun belt and draping it over an available hook. "Is that you, honey?" called out a melodic female voice from within the living room. "Yeah, honey," he replied in a tired voice, pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt collar. "Who else does the dizzy bimbo think it is?" he muttered, under his breath, shaking his head. He forced a smile onto his lips and walked into the main room to greet her. The slim, twenty-eight year old, blue-eyed blonde, was stretched out along the sofa, long legs draped over the nearest padded armrest. A high-heeled mule dangled from the toes of one petite nylon-clad foot. The lovely creature was wearing a short, white, tasseled mini dress, that reminded him of those 'flappers' depicted in movies about the 'roaring twenties' or was that 'thirties'? He shook his head, absently, and ogled her shapely frame. The skirt had ridden up to the tops of her thighs, thus revealing the lacy black tops of her hold-ups and the fact that she was wearing a tightly clinging pair of white panties. "How was Mistah J?" the blonde vision of delight enquired, giving him a dazzling smile of welcome, while making no attempt to adjust her clothing. "As good as could be expected, given the circumstances," he replied, as the girl sat up, swiveled her ass on the cushioned seat, and swung her shapely pins to the floor. She raised her arms and stretched them, languidly, before patting the comfy cushion next to her, an invitation for him to sit down. "No one likes being locked up in a lunatic asylum," Schmitt added, darkly, before his expression brightened. "Still, it won't be for much longer." "I know, sweetie, and I can't wait to see my handsome Puddin' again," the girl replied, hugging herself, with a dreamy expression on her face. He sat down beside her, then leaned over and kissed her on the lips, his left hand coming to rest on her smooth silky thigh, just bellow the hem of her short skirt. The slim attractive blonde made no attempt to remove his hand, enthusiastically returning his kiss, their tongues grappling as she wrapped both arms around his neck. Doctor Harleen Quinzel, otherwise known as Harley Quinn, was not unfamiliar with the grim establishment known as New Arkham Asylum, having spent several years locked up in that particular institution, after being certified as criminally insane by a committee of her peers. To look at this sexy, five-feet seven-inch vision of feminine delight, few would have credited that she had once been a young, dedicated, psychiatric intern, working with the certified inmates of New Arkham Asylum. Her sessions with the Joker, however, had proved to be her downfall. She had fallen completely under the spell of the garish maniac; despite the often-despicable way he tended to treat her. When she had been found guilty of aiding the Joker's escape from Arkham, on not one but two separate occasions, her recently acquired medical license had been revoked and she had found herself incarcerated in the self same establishment. Thanks to a clever attorney and a sympathetic review board, Harley had eventually, convinced them of her return to sanity and had recently been released from custody, on parole. Captain Schmitt had vouched for her future good conduct and agreed to be responsible for her, thus further influencing the board's decision to allow her early release. Forty-one year old bachelor, Peter Schmitt, was no fool. He was aware that this gorgeous creature was still certifiable and still completely infatuated with the Ace of Knaves. She had only moved in with him, to keep a close eye on him for his 'partner in crime'. Still, he truly believed that Harley had grown quite fond of him, over the past couple of months, and she WAS a fantastic lay. He slid his hand under the hem of her short skirt and cupped the warm swell of her mons. "How... how did the rest of your day go?" Harley gasped, squirming her tight little ass at this intimate contact. "The Joker's plans are progressing nicely," he murmured, nuzzling into her neck. He reached up and casually slipped the narrow straps of her dress from off her bare shoulders. "Have you, ah, made that anonymous phone call to the Gazette yet?" she enquired, throwing her head back and arching her spine, as he dragged the top of her dress down off her otherwise naked breasts, before trapping a perky nipple between his tightly pursed lips. Harley liked to be kept fully informed of the progress of her Puddin's plans. "Mmmmmm!" "Well?" Peter finished licking and sucking her other teat into full prominence before deigning to look up and answer her query. "Of course, Harley, girl! Everything's going to schedule. Gordon has been summoned to an urgent meeting with Mayor Lindsay and I have been asked to be ready to step into his shoes, at a moment's notice. Now shut up and come to bed, you sexy little tease!" Thursday, 7:55 pm Batman parked the Bat-mobile in a side street, some hundred yards away from the Pink Armadillo then nimbly leapt from the vehicle and fed the parking meter. Batgirl had been uncomfortably aware of the Boy Wonder's muscular thigh pressing hard up against her own from the moment she'd squeezed in-between the two Caped Crusaders (the powerful vehicle was essentially just a two-seater). Now she felt Robin's hands all over her shapely ass as he helped her out of the cramped confines, at their journey's end. She turned to see the grin all over his face, as he vaulted out to land beside her. "Couldn't resist a crafty fondle, could you?" she snapped, haughtily. "Just helping out a fellow crime fighter," he replied, feigning innocence. The Dark Knight pressed the button on the electronic key-fob that locked the vehicle and caused the anti-theft shielding to slide smoothly into place over the underside and vulnerable glass parts, before turning back to his two waiting costumed companions. "Robin and I will nonchalantly saunter into the bar and order a couple of non-alcoholic drinks, while we give the place the 'once over'," he explained to the Dark Angel. "Then we can start asking a few casual but pertinent questions. Batgirl, you will keep an eye on the entrance, from across the street. If we haven't come out after say... 20 minutes, then contact Commissioner Gordon and get him to authorize a police raid on the premises. Under no circumstances are you to attempt a rescue on your own. Is that absolutely clear?" The Costumed Cutie nodded, reluctantly. "You can be such a pompous old goat at times," she muttered, under her breath. "What was that?" Nothing!" she retorted, blushing slightly, at his accusing stare. The crime-busting trio turned and headed for the bar. Thursday, 8:00 pm Batgirl crossed her arms across her shapely bosom and leaned back against the wall of the building, as she watched her two caped companions enter the establishment, on the opposite side of the street. She was still quietly fuming, at having been excluded from the action, but she could see the logic in Batman's plan. She had just settled back with one shapely leg crossed over the other when she heard a faint noise over to her left, magnified by the audio sensors in the pointed ears of her Bat-cowl. She straightened, before turning to face the source of the sound, standing on wide-placed spiky heels, hands on her shapely hips. Before her, having just wandered out from a nearby alley stood three scruffy looking teenage boys. They all had big grins on their spotty faces, as they stared at the Dynamic Dare Doll. "Well, well, look who we have here, guys!" announced the nearest and tallest of the youths, obviously their leader, stepping in front of the Dark Angel, with a confident swagger. "The one and only, Batgirl!" "Go away, please!" hissed the Costumed Cutie, peering around to see if they were attracting any unwanted attention. "Hey, did ya know that we can see your tiny black panties beneath that sexy outfit, Batgirl?" he added, leering at her curvaceous body. His two pals both sniggered. "Go away!" she hissed loudly, failing to keep the note of annoyance from her voice. "I'm on surveillance, you idiot!" "You can see she ain't wearin' no bra, either, the dirty slut!" exclaimed the shortest punk, a plumpish youth with a red spiky hairstyle and a ring through his nose. "Yeah, I think I'm gonna get me some of that!" declared the leader, stepping forward and grabbing Batgirl's left tit through the sheer clinging material of her Bat-costume. That was a real bad mistake. The Dark Damsel's right knee shot up and caught him in the testicles, with the full force of her fury. "Unnngghh!" The youth sank to his knees, clutching his private parts in both hands, a look of agonized surprise on his face. Before he could even start to contemplate the possible consequences on his future fatherhood, a flying boot caught him on his upper chest, sending him flying backward, to lie in a crumpled, groaning heap. "Nobody molests me!" snarled Batgirl, crouching, menacingly. "Either of you other two losers got any similar bright ideas?" "N-No," stuttered the spiky-haired runt, shaking his head, vehemently and backing off a few paces, hands raised, with the palms turned toward her. "No way," added his brown haired, crew cut companion, a frightened look on his pockmarked features. "Then you guys better pick up your pal and get the hell outta here!" she snapped. They both nodded and hurried to comply. -oOo- The Dynamic Duo sauntered into the crowded gay bar and looked around casually, before walking over to the bar counter, ignoring the interested stares of the other male customers. The steady hum of conversation quickly died away, as all eyes swiveled to watch their progress across the smoke-filled room. As they sat down on a couple of tall bar stools, with a swirl of their capes, and crossed their legs to a series of wolf whistles, the barkeeper strolled over to them. He was a big, powerfully built guy, wearing just a pair of tight denim shorts and jogging shoes. His nicely tanned muscular arms and upper torso, were covered with tattoos, several of them disappeared beneath the waistband of his shorts. He eyed the Dynamic Duo up and down and smiled, apparently impressed by what he saw. "The name's Hans. I own the joint. What can I get you boys?" he asked, staring, disconcertingly, into Batman's eyes. "Er, two glasses of freshly squeezed lemonade on the rocks please," replied the Dark Knight, "shaken NOT stirred!" Batman had always wanted to say that line, ever since he'd seen his first James Bond movie. Okay, so they weren't dry martinis... "Huh? Oh, yeah!" The barkeep turned to go prepare the drinks and Robin couldn't help but admire the ripple of the well developed, gluteus maximus muscles of his tightly clad buttocks. "What brings Gotham's premier crime-fighters into a place like this?" Hans asked, returning and placing the tinkling glasses of lemonade in front of them. "I didn't realize you guys were of OUR sexual persuasion?" Batman took a sip of his iced lemonade and nodded his satisfaction at the taste. "We're not! We're here investigating the disappearance of Officer Phil Thackeray of the GCPD," he explained. The barman's smile vanished and his face turned ugly. "I've already told the cops that the guy was NEVER in here!" he snapped, irritably. Batman gave him a mirthless smile. "But YOU and I both know that's NOT true, don't we, Hans?" "Go screw yourself, freak! I don't HAVE to talk to you," snarled Hans, growing angry. He turned to walk away. With lightning fast reflexes, Batman reached out and hooked his gloved fingers into the waistband of the bartender's hipster shorts, near the base of his spine, bringing him to an unexpectedly abrupt halt. "I wasn't finished talking to you," the Caped Crusader murmured, softly, to an accompanying ping of a waist button flying off the shorts and the sound of a zipper flying open under the sudden strain. "Hey, what the..." The barkeeper grabbed his shorts, before they could fall about his knees, and quickly yanked the zipper back up, thus just protecting his innate modesty. There was an assortment of cheers and guffaws from the attentive audience, including a cry of "Don't be a spoilsport, Hans! Show us yer dragon!" from one amateur comedian. The big barman's cheeks colored at this remark. Robin assumed that this must be a reference to one of the barman's numerous gaudy tattoos. "We can get a lot rougher than that, sweetheart," the Boy Wonder threatened, in his most menacing 'gangster' voice. He was a big fan of old Humphrey Bogart movies. "Shouldn't you be in school, Junior?" retorted the barkeep, obviously unfazed by this macho display. "Well, are you going to tell us the truth?" asked Batman, calmly. The man stared at the cowled figure of the Dark Destroyer, obviously weighing up the alternatives, whilst holding up his shorts with his left hand. Finally, he gave a resigned shrug of his broad shoulders. "Okay, I admit the cop was in here, earlier," he muttered, reluctantly. "A couple of my customers had been looking for him." "Names?" "Hell, I don't know! They weren't none of my regulars. I ain't never seen either of these guys before, or since!" Batman leant across the bar and grabbed the wrist of the hand holding up the shorts, threatening to yank it free and thus give his gay customers a night to remember. "Try to remember!" he urged, in a threatening tone. "Okay, okay! All I know is that the little guy's name is 'Shorty' and his big brute of a partner is called 'Bull'. I don't know their other names... honest, Batman!" Batman released his iron grip on Hans' wrist and watched him gingerly rub the circulation back into it, with his free hand. "Okay, I believe you," he said, quietly. He took another sip of his lemonade and smacked his lips. "You make a nice lemonade, Hans. What did these two characters look like?" "The short scrawny guy is about fifty, clean shaven with graying hair, wearing one of those multi-colored Hawaiian shirts that used to be popular a few years back, baggy white pants with suspenders and a black derby hat. His partner, Bull I think he called him, is a much younger, guy, maybe thirty, short black-hair, six-feet two tall, weighing 'round about 250 pounds. He has a real ugly mug and was wearing blue denims and a grubby white tee." "What happened when Officer Thackeray came in here?" "The cop asked me if anyone had been lookin' for him. I told him that these two guys had been askin' for him and were hangin' around out back. So, he went out back, to talk to them." Hans nodded toward the rear door across the room. "Through that door over there!" "Then what happened?" "No idea! That was the last I saw of any of 'em, man. Must've left by the rear exit? There's a small yard back there, mainly used for beer and wine deliveries." "Mind if we take a look around?" "N-No, help yourself," the barman replied. "Just remember that I had nothin' to do with that cop's disappearance, Batman. I run a respectable establishment here! The last thing I want is the law swarming all over the joint!" He eyed the sway of their tight, muscular buttocks, as the two costumed crimefighters made their way to the rear door, along with most of the rest of the room. Thursday, 8:10 pm Batman knelt down on one knee and dipped a finger in the dark red stain on the carpet, just inside the doorway leading to the back corridor. "Looks like a fairly fresh bloodstain, Boy Wonder," he murmured, taking a glass slip from a compartment in his utility belt. He smeared some of the sticky liquid onto it, before dropping the glass slide into a clear plastic sample bag and returning it to the compartment. "We can check the blood group against that of Officer Thackeray, back at the Bat Cave," he informed Robin. Robin nodded. "I'd bet a month's allowance that they will match," he muttered, grimly. "Looks to me like our policeman friend walked straight into some sort of trap." "A reasonable assumption," Batman agreed, then fully realizing what the Boy Wonder had just said, shook his cowled head and added, "Any form of gambling is only to be frowned upon, old friend." The Caped Duo, went through the back rooms and rear yard of The Pink Armadillo, with a fine toothcomb, but no further clues were found, that might help point them toward the missing officer. Thursday, 8:19 pm Batgirl gave a sigh of relief, as she saw the Caped Crusaders exit the bar. She had just been contemplating storming into the joint after them, despite Batman's instructions to the contrary. She hurried across the street to join them, ignoring the honking horn and squeal of brakes, as a motorist was forced to take evasive action, narrowly avoiding hitting her. "Stupid damned jaywalker!" the driver yelled, through an open window. Batgirl ignored him. "What have you found out?" she enquired, anxiously clutching at Batman's arm. "Oh, he's been in there alright," Batman answered. "Seems he met up with two guys named Bull and Shorty, who claimed to know something about the weapons heist." "Then what happened?" "Looks like it was some sort of trap, Batgirl," replied the Boy Wonder. "We found some blood in one of the back rooms!" "Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Batgirl, wide-eyed, clutching at her breast. "It was only a small amount," Batman added, reassuringly. "We suspect Phil may have been injured during his capture and abduction." "Do we know where they have taken him?" she asked, more in hope than expectation. "'Fraid not, Batgirl, but we DO have a description of the two hoodlums though. Hopefully, the Bat-computer can come up with some possible places these guys hang out, when we feed this new information into it?" Thursday, 8:20 pm Phil slowly swam back to consciousness, to find that he was lying on the hard, dusty floor of the warehouse. He was still alive, although a fresh, throbbing bruise on his temple, testified to the fact that he must've hit his head on the floor, when he landed, and knocked himself out. His hands and feet were still tied and he could still feel the tight noose around his neck. He could also feel the accompanying rope burns, which must have occurred when he lost his balance and fell off the chair. "But why am I still alive?" he wondered in amazement. "Surely the fall should have broken my neck, or asphyxiated me, at the very least?" He squirmed around on the floor to get a better view of his surroundings, ignoring the pounding pain in his head and aware that he must have banged his left knee on impact with the floor, since it hurt like hell. The wooden chair was lying on its side, next to him. "Must have knocked it over during the fall," he deduced. His gaze alighted on the double hook on the wall. The hemp rope appeared to have miraculously become unraveled from it, during his fall, thus saving him from his gruesome fate. Now, the coarse hemp rope just dangled loosely from the cast-iron crossbeam that it was looped over. Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 04 A tremendous wave of relief swept over him and his shoulders shook, as he almost burst into tears. "Thank you, Lord!" he croaked, although he had never been a religious sort of person. As he uttered the words, he realized that his mouth and throat were desperately dry, like the Arizona desert at high noon. He needed a drink of water and he needed it desperately. He burst into a short fit of coughing, as he breathed in some of the billowing cloud of dust that his squirming had just raised, before resuming his tugging at the restraints about his wrists. His elbows felt sore, where he had skinned them upon impact with the rough concrete, but he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the pain. -oOo- A few minutes later, the heavy wooden side door swung inward, and the two hoodlums entered, immediately spotting the near naked policeman lying on his side on the ground. Bull ambled over to check the condition of their prisoner, while Shorty picked up the fallen chair and set it back on its legs. "Just a few scuffs and bruises," Bull informed his scrawny partner, as he rolled Phil over, with the aid of a large boot toe, eliciting a groan of pain from the semi-conscious policeman. Phil groaned with pain again, as they picked him up and roughly manhandled him over to the chair and sat him on it. While Bull removed the noose and used the otherwise redundant rope to firmly tie Phil's arms and legs to the chair, Shorty stood in front of him, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Got a might careless, huh?" he chortled, noting the newly acquired egg-sized bruise on the cop's forehead and his bruised and bloody knee. Phil blinked and stared back at the puny hoodlum, through tired, bloodshot eyes. "I'm still alive, no thanks to you murderous bastards," he croaked. "Any chance of a drink of water?" Shorty nodded to his partner, who walked over to a filthy sink and faucet which were fixed to the wall, just a few yards along, before filling a cheap plastic cup with water. He returned and held the container to Officer Thackeray's lips, who drank its contents thirstily. When the cup was empty, Bull returned it to the sink. Shorty casually leaned back against the wall, tipped his derby further back on his head and grinned, as he crossed his arms over his narrow chest. "Ya didn't really think we wuz gonna take the chance of ya hangin' yerself, did ya, copper?" he queried, addressing the still woozy prisoner. "That's why I used a slip knot to tie off the rope at the wall. There wuz never any real likelihood of ya snappin' yer neck or chokin' yerself, if ya fell off the chair. Har, har, har!" "Why, you, you..." Phil became lost for words, such was his fury. If he'd been able to get his hands on the grinning weasel, at that moment, he would have cheerfully throttled him. Thursday, 10:35 pm Barbara sighed, heavily, as she unzipped her clinging Batgirl costume and slipped it off her shoulders and arms, to fully reveal her superb, rounded breasts, with their large dark areolas and prominent pink nipples. She had already removed her cowl and gloves, and her riot of rich red hair had tumbled down about her creamy shoulders. She was standing with legs astride, facing the dresser mirror, in the bedroom of her apartment. The Bat Mobile had dropped her off, in the service road that ran around the back of the luxury apartment block (situated in a leafy suburb of the city), some ten minutes earlier. She had then used the hidden entrance to the garage where she kept her Batgirl cycle, to gain access, unobserved, to her second floor accommodation. There was no way that she could've taken the risk of someone spotting the Dark Angel entering the building by the front entrance. She unclipped the buckle of the utility belt, slung low on her hips, and tossed the heavy accessory onto the bed behind her, before pushing the purple body stocking off her hips and down about her knees, thus revealing the black clinging thong, that fitted snuggly over the swell of her mons veneris. Sitting on the end of the bed, she tugged off her high-heeled ankle boots, with a sigh of relief, and then finished removing her heroine costume. Clad in just her thong, she padded into the bathroom and turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature of the water, until she was satisfied with it. She thumbed down her sole remaining item of clothing, stepped out of it, hung it over the back of the chair, and slipped under the cascading water. As she raised her face up to meet the refreshing warm deluge, she sighed with pleasure. As Barbara raised a thick creamy lather all over her body, she could barely hold back the tears in her big green eyes, as she cast her mind back. "What have the swine done to poor Phil?" she wondered, absently rubbing her soapy fingers against the pleasant swell of her crotch. "If they've harmed him in any way, I will NEVER EVER forgive myself!" That night, she slept alone, curled up in a fetal position, as she cried herself to sleep. -oOo- Will Officer Thackeray survive his fiendish, barbaric imprisonment? Will the Dynamic Duo discover a clue to his whereabouts and come to his rescue? And what of Batgirl! Will her latest romance end before it has truly begun? For the answers to these and other unanswered questions, read the next exciting chapter of 'Batgirl: Sex Bomb', coming soon, to your favorite website! Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 05 This story is the sixth in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures, mainly based on characters in the early Batman comics and that wonderful '60s TV series but with the timeline brought up to the present. Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal use. No copyright infringement is intended. The Adventures Of Batgirl Batgirl: Sex Bomb Chapter 5: Letting The Cat Out Of The Bag Meanwhile in stately Wayne Manor, situated on the outskirts of Gotham City. "Ah, ah, ah, ah... Oh, God, yeah! Harder, fuck me harder!" urged the naked, blue eyed blonde, as her well-built lover buried his rigid shaft deep into her sopping pussy, again and again, grunting loudly, with each powerful lunge. She was lying face upward on the bed, both shoulders pressed deep into the mattress, her ass raised in the air and her shapely legs draped over his broad shoulders, as he gripped the front of her thighs and fucked into her, energetically. Her small, but shapely breasts, were swollen with arousal, the pink nipples standing out stiff and erect. The bodies of both participants were covered in a gleaming sheen of perspiration, thanks to their energetic coupling. "Oh, yes! Yess! Yessss!" the girl gasped, writhing her shapely ass, as she tried to take his cock in even deeper. "More Dick, I want more!" Jennifer had still not completely forgiven Dick Grayson for failing to inform her of the Dynamic Duo's visit to the gay bar. After all, they had allowed Barbara to tag along, even if she hadn't actually accompanied them into the place. At least Dick had finally managed to coax Bruce into allowing his girlfriend to stop over for the night, but only on the strict understanding that she slept alone, in one of the many guest bedrooms and didn't go messing around in the Batcave. Bruce Wayne was only too aware of Jennifer's uncontrollable curiosity. Jenny smiled to herself, slyly. "If only Bruce could see what his youthful ward is up to now." She managed to stifle the giggle that threatened to escape her slack lips, by turning it into a low moan of pleasure. The first time that Jennifer Goodbody and Dick had made love, had been as their crime-fighting alter egos, Robin and Sparrow, down in the Batcave, of all places. The Boy Wonder had not disappointed her on that occasion either. The interesting bulge in the front of his red briefs, had soon been revealed as a more than adequate eight-inches of throbbing man-meat, when she had released it, to spring forth into full erection. Since that first glorious occasion, the two youngest members of Gotham's Caped Crusaders had been having sex on a fairly regular basis. "Uh, uh, uh, uh... Unnngghh!" Dick Grayson groaned with pleasure, as he thrust into her one more time, then started to ejaculate, as he attained his much-needed climax. "I'm cumming, Jen," he warned, arching his back, both eyes closed, his hips twitching with each successive spurt of milky semen. His lovely partner, continued to milk his cock, with her powerful vaginal muscles, until he was finally running on empty. "Aaahhhhhh! That was sooooo good, Jen," Dick gasped, opening his eyes and smiling down at his lovely companion. "Don't stop, you selfish bastard!" the girl cried, raising herself up off the bed, on her elbows and giving him a sulky, pout. "I haven't cum myself, yet." Dick Grayson grinned at his gorgeous girlfriend, as his shrinking penis slithered from her wet sex. "Sorry, Jen, but I'm just about finished," he apologized, shrugging his broad shoulders. He carefully stripped the full condom from his softening organ and, wrinkling up his nose in distaste, dropped it, and its milky contents, into the bedside wastebasket. He eased her legs from off his shoulders, then flopped down on the bed beside her, before leaning in and planting a brief kiss on her full red lips and, at the same time, caressing one of her firm, still swollen tits. "But I still love you," he added, with a twinkle in his eye, then collapsed back onto the mattress. "Oooooohhh!" Jennifer Goodbody moaned in frustration, clenching her fists by her sides, as she stared up at the ceiling of Dick Grayson's bedroom. "Call yourself a superhero," she muttered, under her breath. "You'd think a superhero would have a bit more stamina in the sack." She gave a loud, frustrated sigh and rolled over onto her side, raising her head and propping herself up on one elbow, facing him. She stared at his shrunken and shriveled cock, now draped over his soft ballsack. It was glistening with the evidence of their lovemaking. "I swear you do this on purpose, every time, Dick Grayson," she said, glaring at him, suspiciously. "You know there's only one sure way of my getting you hard again , don't you, you pig?" "Oh?" he replied, raising an eyebrow and putting on that boyish look of innocent that so infuriated her. Dick knew his lovely bedmate wouldn't be satisfied until she had attained her own orgasm, the little minx, and that meant getting him erect again. Well, he wasn't going to complain. He casually linked his hands behind his neck and eased his legs apart, slightly. "You damn well know what I mean," Jenny retorted, her big blue eyes flashing, angrily. She lent over his groin and started licking and sucking him clean, while pulling at his limp cock, impatiently, with the fingers of her left hand. She saw it twitch and smiled to herself. -oOo- Several minutes of sustained oral attention later, Dick's cock was once again the best part of eight-inches of thick, throbbing muscle. Jenny slid him out of her hot mouth and worked her aching jaw, before smiling down at the result of her endeavors. "The things I have to do to get an orgasm," she muttered aloud, as she clambered astride his hips and positioned his impressive erection at the entrance to her glistening pink pussy. "Whoops, almost forgot!" she exclaimed, with a girlish giggle. She reached over to the bedside table and took a fresh rubber from the pack in her purse. "Did I ever tell you? You have the gentlest of touches," Dick murmured with a smile, as he watched her expertly roll the ribbed condom down over his hot, vertical shaft. Jennifer ignored his sarcastic comment and sighed with pleasure, as she slowly lowered herself down onto him, until his Latex sheathed cock was fully embedded inside her. "There's nothing better than the feeling of a nice fat cock inside your pussy," she reminded herself, a slight smile touching her full lips. Dick raised himself on both elbows, to get a better view, as his thick shaft disappeared between her tightly stretched labia. "Holy Orgasm, Jennifer!" he gasped. "That feels soooo good. I can feel your pussy muscles gripping my cock, like the coils of a hungry anaconda." Jenny smiled at the compliment, placed an outstretched hand against his muscular chest and firmly pushed him back down onto the bed. "Leave it all to those who know how, Batboy," she commanded, as she started to slowly raise and lower her hips, her velvety sheath squeezing and relaxing about his engorged member. "Geez! Whatever you say, Jen," Dick gasped. He closed his eyes and threw his head back against the pillow. "She is unbelievable," he added, silently. Jenny gradually increased her pace, arching her back and leaning back, increasing the friction against the front wall of her vulva, as she felt herself growing wetter and wetter. She began to gasp, louder and louder, as she felt a climax starting to bubble up, from deep within her belly, like molten lava about to burst forth from an active volcano. "Ah, ah, ah, ah..." she gasped, as she felt herself rushing toward that ultimate pinnacle of pleasure. "Ooooh, yes, yes, yesssss!" Her back was arched, her swollen breasts thrust forward, her rock hard nipples standing out like two .45 caliber bullets, as she shuddered and started to cum, bathing his erection and testicles in a flood of hot clear love juice. "Unnnggghhhhhh! Aaaaaahhhhh!" Her hips jerked with the orgasmic after shocks going off in her pussy, her head swaying from side to side. Finally, she rocked forward, drunkenly, her damp blonde hair hanging over her eyes, her glorious tits swaying and heaving, mere inches from Dick's face, as she recovered on straightened arms, hands positioned either side of his head. "God, that was the BEST," she finally gasped, still holding him deep inside her, not wanting to let him go, wishing it could've gone on forever. Dick reached up and pinched her erect nipples between his fingers and thumbs, causing her to jerk and gasp with the sudden pain. "For one moment there, I thought you were going to snap my cock off," he complained, with a boyish grin, before she could berate him. -oOo- Later, when they were cuddling up in each other's arms, Jenny suddenly raised her head and looked into Dick's eyes, with a bemused expression on her lovely face. "Do you know what really puzzles me about this whole weapons case?" she said, right out of the blue. "What?" he groaned, wishing she would go to sleep. "Why did they take such an almighty risk, breaking into the police armory, to steal all those guns? Surely they could have gotten them from some other source, at much less of a risk?" "Yeah. Now that you mention it, that is kinda strange," he agreed, frowning. Friday, 7:55 am The next morning, Jennifer and Dick, hand in hand, strolled leisurely down to breakfast, in the roomy kitchen of the sprawling old mansion. The blonde beauty was positively glowing with health, after their energetic lovemaking of the night before. They found multi-millionaire Bruce Wayne, already seated at the head of the table, tucking into a hearty breakfast of sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. Bruce paused and looked up, as the two youngsters entered. "Good morning both," he greeted, politely, before turning his full attention to their lovely guest. Jenny was wearing a tight-fitting checkered shirt and blue jeans combination, that emphasized her shapely figure. "I hope you slept well, young lady?" Jennifer blushed, prettily, and exchanged a swift conspiratorial glance with Dick, before replying. "Yes thank you, Bruce. I can't remember when I enjoyed a night in bed so much." "What?" "The bed was so soft and comfortable," she added, quickly, seeing a puzzled expression appear on Bruce's face. "Oh, ah, yes. We take pride in our standard of hospitality." Dick held out her chair for her and Jennifer sat down with a smile of thanks, before he seated himself next to her and reached for a napkin. He poured them both a glass of freshly squeezed juice, before looking over at the fourth person in the room, who was quietly getting on with the task of preparing breakfast. Alfred Pennyworth was wearing a frilly edged, flower patterned, apron, over his usual manservant uniform. "Morning, Alfred. What's on the menu today?" "Good morning, Master Dick. Good morning, Ms. Goodbody. Bacon, sausages and eggs with toast," the elderly retainer replied, walking over and placing a fresh rack of hot toast on the breakfast table. "Or I could prepare some waffles with syrup, if you prefer, Miss?" he added, smiling fondly, at the young woman. Jennifer shook her blonde curls. "No thank you, Alfred. I think I'll just have a glass of cold milk, if that's alright with you?" "Certainly, Miss. Thinking about that trim figure of yours, no doubt?" Alfred was fully aware that Jennifer was also, Sparrow, the fourth member of Gotham's famous costumed crime-fighting team, and as such, needed to keep in good physical shape. Jenny blushed at the compliment and nodded, demurely. "I'll have the same as Bruce, scrambled eggs and crispy bacon," Dick announced. "Certainly, Master Dick. It will be ready shortly. I had already anticipated your choice." "You were a little noisy, last night," Bruce said with a slight frown, addressing his young ward. "You probably kept Jennifer up half the night, as well as myself. What on earth were you doing?" "Huh? Er, yes, I was busy doing some extra push-ups," Dick admitted, looking decidedly sheepish. "Sorry about that." "Yes, I, ah, I did have a little trouble getting to sleep... initially," Jenny added, giving Dick a sly, saucy smirk, that seemed to go unnoticed by Bruce. "By the way, Dick, that blood sample did turn out to be a match with that of Officer Thackeray's blood group," Bruce continued, looking over at his young protégé. "I checked out our analysis results against GCPD personnel records, earlier this morning." "Yeah, it seems to confirm our abduction theory," replied Dick, gravely. Bruce nodded, and then picked up the copy of the Gotham Daily Gazette, from beside his elbow. The morning newspaper had been delivered just a short while earlier. "Good grief!" he exclaimed, as his gaze alighted on the banner headline: Police Chief Suspended Over Cover-up of Massive Gun Heist from Police Headquarters. "What is it, Bruce?" Dick asked, jumping to his feet in alarm. Without a word, Bruce spread the newspaper over the tabletop, so that they could all read the front page: It has just been revealed that Mayor Lindsay has suspended Police Commissioner Jim Gordon from duty, over allegations that he deliberately tried to cover up an armed robbery of the weapons armory at GCPD HQ that occurred some two weeks ago, where, it is believed, over a thousand weapons and items of ammunition, were stolen from right under the noses of our so-called 'finest'. The city fathers had been kept totally in the dark about this, until an anonymous tip-off to this paper, started the ball rolling. Mayor Lindsay categorically denied such a crime was even possible, when first confronted by this paper, but later announced that he had discovered that the information we had obtained, was essentially true, after cross-examining Jim Gordon, at a hastily convened meeting in the Mayor's Parlor. Our top cop had since claimed that he did it to avoid creating any panic in the local population, but considering the absolute epidemic of armed crime that has been sweeping through our fair city, over recent days, this seems a pretty feeble excuse, at best. It has even been suggested that Jim Gordon might actually be implicated in this robbery, in some way, although this reporter hastens to add that there is currently no evidence to support this premise. The Police Commissioner has been suspended on full pay, while an urgent internal investigation is undertaken, to try to determine the truth of the matter. In the meantime, Captain Peter J. Schmitt has been asked to assume the duties and responsibilities of Police Commissioner until the investigation is completed. Normally, Chief O'Hara would've been expected to assume the position, but it was thought that he was too closely allied to Gordon to remain impartial. Captain Schmitt has been quoted as saying that he was never totally happy with the policy of secrecy that was put into place by his superior, immediately after the robbery, and that he believes the good citizens of Gotham deserved to be told the truth, despite any embarrassment this might cause certain senor members of the police force. The number of armed robberies within Gotham City and the surrounding area has more than tripled over recent weeks and Acting Commissioner Schmitt has revealed that there is considerable evidence to suggest that many of the guns that were stolen, are already out on the city streets. He has advised all citizens to keep off the streets late at night, unless their journey is absolutely necessary. "I knew nothing good would come of that piece of subterfuge," Bruce muttered, shaking his head. "It is now more essential than ever that the Dynamic Duo solve this case, as soon as possible." "Hey, don't forget to include myself and Batgirl in on that," Jennifer protested. "What? Oh, yes, of course, dear." Friday, 8:45 am Jim Gordon was in the process of clearing out his office desk, at GCPD Headquarters. Acting Commissioner Schmitt had asked him to vacate the office by nine, as he would be requiring it himself from now on. He turned his grey-blue eyes to his faithful second-in-command, Chief O'Hara, who had been helping him to pack. They were glistening with barely suppressed tears. "Do you know what I find most galling, Chief?" he muttered, with a gesture of annoyance. "It's that two faced son-of-a-bitch, Schmitt. He was the one who convinced me that it would be in the best interests of the department and the good citizens of Gotham, to keep all knowledge of this robbery under wraps. Now that the shit has hit the fan, the turncoat is claiming exactly the opposite." O'Hara blinked in astonishment. He couldn't ever remember his superior using such strong language before. "Bejazus, Jim, I never loiked the fella, m'self!" the florid faced Irishman exclaimed, in his thick brogue, shaking his head in sympathy. "Keep me informed about what's going on here, Chief. I don't trust that Schmitt any further than I can throw him. Not after this debacle. Anyway, YOU should have been made up to Acting Commissioner in my absence, old friend, NOT Peter Schmitt. That's something else that stinks to high heaven." Just then the telephone began to ring, insistently, and he grabbed the receiver and raised it to his ear. "Hello, Commiss... er, Jim Gordon speaking." "I have your daughter on line one, Commissioner. Do you wish to speak with her?" enquired the voice of his secretary, from the outer office. Bonnie had heard the upraised voices, through the thin partition wall. "It's all right, Bonnie, dear. Put her on." "Daddy?" "Hello, Princess." "Daddy, I've just heard the AWFUL news that you've been suspended from your job. It CAN'T be true?" "'Fraid so, darling. They seem to think I might have something to hide and the mayor has insisted on a full internal investigation." "Utter nonsense! It doesn't make any sense, daddy. You're the most honest and dedicated cop on the force." "Thank you for the vote of confidence, dear. You've cheered me up no end. Now, if you don't mind, Princess, I must finish clearing out my desk and vacate the office, or I might just get thrown out on my ear. Talk to you soon, okay?" "Okay," Barbara agreed, reluctantly. "'Bye Daddy." "'Bye Barbara, dear." There were tears in the elderly policeman's eyes, as he gently replaced the receiver. Jim looked up at his number two, and then straightened his back and shoulders. "Try to put any personal grievances behind you, Chief. Acting Commissioner Schmitt is going to need all the help he can get, if this tidal wave of gun crime is to be contained." "You're a charitable man, Jim Gordon, that you are. I'll do my best to keep the slimy... er, the Acting Commissioner, from making a fool of h'self, that I will, but it doesn't mean I have to LOIKE the boyo, NO SIR!" Friday, 8:55 am The heavily armored Brink's security truck rumbled steadily through the Gotham City suburbs, transporting its considerable payload of cash and securities, to the local branch of the Bank of Trust, some five minutes journey time away. Within the truck, the driver and his fellow armed security guard, passed the time discussing the merits of their favorite football team and their newly appointed coach. In the back of the armored truck, the third and youngest member of the crew, Jimmy Crow, who claimed to be directly descended from one of the most famous of all Red Indians, Sitting Bull, sat reading a copy of the local morning newspaper. As they pulled up at the traffic lights, which had just turned to red, at the busy city intersection, a large Jeep Cherokee SUV, that had started crossing the junction from their left, suddenly swerved toward them, and screeched to a halt, right across the nose of their truck. Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 05 "What the hell?" Jack Fuller snarled. He grabbed for his rifle, immediately realizing what was going down. Moments later, the supposedly bulletproof windshield, erupted in a shower of glass shards, as a burst of high-powered bullets swept across it. "Holy shit!" exclaimed his partner, Herbie, clutching the steering wheel with white knuckles, as they were both showered with safety glass fragments that, luckily, caused only minor facial cuts. By some miracle or perhaps by design, neither man had been struck by a bullet. Three hooded men had emerged from the vehicle in front, waving lethal looking automatic weapons in their direction. "What's going on?" came the muffle voice of Jimmy, from out the back of the truck. "Robbery," growled Jack, gripping his weapon, tightly. "Drop your guns and get the fuck outta there," yelled one of the robbers, waving the barrel of his automatic rifle in their direction, "or you guys get the next shots in the head!" "Fuck that," Herbie gasped, going even paler. He jerked his podgy hands high in the air. After a moment's hesitation, Jack carefully placed the rifle down and followed suit. The company didn't pay him enough to risk his life and, anyway, he had a wife and two young kids to support. "Don't do anything stupid, Jimmy," he called, out of the corner of his mouth, the warning aimed in the direction of the small square grill that accessed the rear compartment. "These guys look like they mean business." At the same time, he pressed the red emergency button with his knee, which set off the alarm in the destination bank, thus indicating that a robbery was taking place. The bank staff would immediately inform the local police of the situation. With any luck, the area should be swarming with cops within a couple of minutes. The two security guards slowly clambered out of the cab, empty hands held high in the air. Jack was ushered around the front of the truck, at gunpoint, to join a pale, sweating Herbie, who looked frightened to death. "Which one of you guys has got the keys to the rear of the truck?" snarled the spokesman, waving his gun barrel in their faces. "Neither of us," Jack retorted, maintaining a brave face. "It can only be opened from the inside and there's another armed guard in there." "Shit!" The hooded thief walked to the rear of the truck. "Hey, you in there, open up, or we kill your two pals," he yelled. Meanwhile, people in the line of cars that had piled up behind the armored truck, had started getting out of them and running away from the crime scene, having realized what was happening. "No fuckin' way," came the muffled response from within. "I've got me a gun." Jack groaned, under his breath. Jimmy always had been a headstrong kid. "Have it your way, moron," snarled the hoodlum, stepping aside. Jack saw one of the masked men, go down on one knee some twenty yards behind the truck, and heft, what looked like a bazooka over his shoulder, and take aim at the rear doors. "OH, SHIT!" he yelled grabbing Herbie's arm and diving for the ground, pulling the older guard down with him. "What the..." BOOOOM! Herbie's wail of surprise was drowned out by the noise of the loud explosion and the screech of metal being torn asunder. A gaping hole appeared in the buckled doors at the rear of the truck, together with a plume of smoke that rose high into the air. "Jimmy?" Jack cried, staggering to his feet, alarm on his face. He turned to the apparent leader of the gang. "Jimmy was in there, you murderous bast..." His angry yell was cut off, as the butt of the automatic rifle struck him under the jaw, with a sickening crack, and he lost all further interest in the proceedings. "Start unloading the money, boys," yelled the leader, turning away from the body of the unconscious security guard and waving his gun barrel in the direction of the distant crowd which had gathered at a safe distance. "Just stay well back, folks, and nobody else will get hurt!" he yelled. The crowd murmured nervously, and shuffled back a couple of yards. Ignoring the bloody remains of the youngest of the security guards, the other two masked men, began to leisurely unload the blood-spattered sacks of money and security bonds, and dump them into the rear of the SUV. Meanwhile, the leader handcuffed Herbie and his unconscious partner to the door handle of the truck. "Your big-mouthed buddy looks like he needs hospital treatment," he observed, with a sneer. When all the bags had been transferred, the leader joined his companions in the Jeep Cherokee and it screeched off with a cloud of smoke rising from the hot rubber of its tires. Herbie peered around, anxiously. "Where the hell are the local cops?" he muttered, angrily. He was aware that Jack had set off the emergency alarm. "They should've been here ten minutes ago." He turned and yelled over to the gradually approaching crowd. "Can someone please call 911 for an ambulance? This man needs urgent medical attention." He knew, in his heart, that it was already too late for Jimmy. Friday, 9:03 am Barbara looked up, at the sound of a polite knock on the frosted glass panel of her office door. "Come in, Jen," she called, recognizing the curvy silhouette. The door opened and her bubbly blonde research assistant hurried in, looking anything but bubbly. "Babs, I've just read the terrible news in the paper," she exclaimed, rushing over to the desk and placing a sympathetic arm around the seated redhead's shoulders. "You must be distraught." A tear glistened in a big green eye, as Barbara looked up at Jennifer and patted the hand resting on her shoulder. "How could they even THINK that Daddy could be involved in that gun heist," she protested, almost bursting into tears. "Yeah, it's ridiculous," agreed Jennifer, huskily. It grieved her heart to see Barbara so upset. "Looks like the old team of Batgirl and Sparrow will have to get back together and find out who's really behind that robbery, right, girl?" Barbara looked up at her best friend, gratefully. "Uh, huh," she agreed. "We made a good team, didn't we?" Before she even realized it, she had slid her arm around Jenny's neck and pulled the blonde's face down to her own. Their lips met, in a long, lingering kiss. Jenny look a little flustered, when they finally broke their passionate clinch. "I... I'll come by your place about eight tonight... and bring my Sparrow costume," she promised, as she gazed into Barbara's big green eyes and swallowed, nervously. "I'll be waiting, " Barbara replied, softly, "and thanks, Jen." Friday, 9:33 am "Batman and Robin!" exclaimed Acting Commissioner Schmitt, looking up at the two costumed vigilantes, who had just been ushered into his office in GCPD Headquarters (formerly that of Jim Gordon), by his secretary, Bonnie. "What a great honor." He rose to his feet and held out a hand. "Likewise, Commissioner Schmitt. We had a close working relationship with your predecessor, Jim Gordon, and are hoping to cultivate a similar understanding with your good self," Batman replied, as they shook hands. "Hence the main reason for our visit." The policeman shook hands with Robin, and then sat back down behind his desk. "Now what, exactly, can I do for you, gentlemen?" he added, resting both elbows on his desk and clasping his hands together. "We've just been informed, by a reliable source, that an armored truck has been held up and robbed, on the way to make a delivery to a local branch of the Bank of Trust earlier this morning, Commissioner?" "Er, that is correct, Batman," Schmitt replied, trying to hide his surprise. "We would like to offer our services in helping to solve this crime, Sir." "That, ah, that won't be necessary, Caped Crusader," Schmitt replied, putting a supercilious smile on his face. "Now that the GCPD is under new management, so to speak, we will no longer be needing any help from well meaning amateurs, in solving our more serious crimes." "Why, you arrogant, overbear..." Robin began, taking a step toward the seated policeman, who held up the palm of one hand, effectively cutting off his ranting and bringing him to a halt. Schmitt smiled again. "That doesn't mean we won't continue to appreciate any help the Dynamic Duo can provide in helping to reduce street crime, muggings, car theft, prostitution, burglaries, etcetera." "But not any MAJOR capers?" Batman clarified, with a grim smile. "That IS essentially the situation, Caped Crusader." The Dark Knight stepped forward and held out his hand. "Well, thank you for your valuable time, Commissioner Schmitt," he said, tersely, shaking hands. Robin refused to follow suit. "No, THANK YOU, gentlemen." Schmitt smiled to himself, as he watched the costumed buffoons exit his office. "I thought you handled that very well," he congratulated himself. He flicked the intercom switch down to the transmit position. "Bonnie, NEVER show Batman into my office again, UNLESS he has a prior appointment," he snapped. -oOo- Will the Dynamic Duo become suspicious of Acting Commissioner Schmitt and his mercurial rise to prominence in the GCPD? Was the armored truck robbery merely the first of many major armed robberies to come? Will our two Costumed Cuties manage to prove the innocence of Jim Gordon? The plot deepens folks. Don't forget to tune in to the next exciting installment, for the answer to these and other puzzling queries that may be on the tips of your tongues. Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 06 This story is the sixth in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures, mainly based on characters in the early Batman comics and that wonderful '60s TV series but with the timeline brought up to the present. Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal use. No copyright infringement is intended. The Adventures Of Batgirl: Batgirl: Sex Bomb Chapter 6: The Great Escape! Friday, 9:57 am Batman turned to the uniformed policeman seated alongside him. "You're SURE about this, Chief O'Hara? If the new Commissioner ever finds out you've been helping us, it could mean the end of your career AND your police pension. Don't forget you're nearing retirement age, old friend." "Bejazus, Batman! Somebody's gotta pay for that young security guard's brutal death," the slightly overweight Irishman declared vehemently, as he expertly swung the black and white into the parking lot of the Bank of Trust, its suspension wallowing under the sudden centrifugal forces. The car screeched to a halt, with the front bumper a mere six-inches from the wall of the building. Robin, who was sitting in the back, was glad he'd remembered to put on his safety belt. "There's somethin' decidedly fishy about that Commissioner Schmitt? I have no confidence in him getting to the bottom of this case," the Chief continued, stepping out of the patrol car and savagely slamming the driver's door shut. He calmed down and checked the time on his gold pocket watch, a recent long-service award. "The bank manager is expecting us at ten, Caped Crusader!" Batman nodded and followed the Chief of Police into the bank, with Robin trailing along behind. -oOo- The three men shook hands with the bank manager, and then settled back into their seats in his office. The Manager of the Bank of Trust branch, Arthur Cranbury, was a slim, bespectacled individual, in his early fifties, with thinning hair and slightly rounded shoulders. He was wearing a smart grey business suit and exuded an air of quiet, reassuring competence. "Gentlemen, this is indeed a great pleasure," he declared, when the formalities had been completed. "I have long been an admirer of Gotham City's finest upholders of law and order." Batman gave him a slightly embarrassed smile. "Thank you, sir, we do our best. It was good of you to make time for us in your busy schedule, on such short notice." "Not at all, Batman. So, what can I tell you about the security truck robbery, that you gentlemen don't already know?" Mr. Cranbury enquired, politely. Batman leant forward in his seat. "I understand from Chief O'Hara here, that the vehicle was fitted with some sort of emergency button that, when pressed, instantly set off an alarm in the bank?" The bank manager nodded, soberly. "That is correct, Batman, although we don't like to advertise that fact. It still failed to prevent a tragic loss of life, in this case, of course. When it went off, we immediately put in a call to the police, using the special hotline that was installed for just such an eventuality. We informed the GCPD that a robbery was in progress and told them exactly where the crime was taking place." The Caped Crusader's eyebrows shot up at this. "How were you able to accurately know the precise location of the armored vehicle, sir?" he enquired. The bank manager smiled, smugly. "We use the very latest satellite tracking technology, Caped Crusader. At any given instant, we can pinpoint the position of the delivery truck to within roughly 5 feet." "Holy Spy in the Sky!" exclaimed the Boy Wonder, wide-eyed with astonishment. "Very impressive," agreed Batman. "How long do you estimate that it should've taken the police to arrive at the crime scene, sir... from the moment the alarm first went off?" The bank manager placed the tips of his fingers together and tapped his chin with them, while he considered the question. "No more than 3 or 4 minutes, at the most," he replied. "Yet, according to the official crime report, almost 15 minutes elapsed before the first black and white appeared at the scene. The robbers were long gone by then and the injured guard was already on his way to the hospital, in an ambulance!" Batman turned to the senior law officer alongside him. "How do you explain such a significant delay, Chief?" The Irishman blinked and looked momentarily flustered. "My officers were dispatched to the scene of the crime as soon as I was informed," he retorted, going a bright red in the face. "I have no explanation for any delay that may have occurred prior to my receiving that information, Batman." "Hmm? I wonder where that call was originally routed?" the Caped Crusader mused aloud. Arthur Cranbury was unable to supply any further pertinent details, except to inform them that the thieves had stolen over 5 million dollars in cash and securities, during the raid. The Boy Wonder let out a long low whistle. That was the signal for Batman to bring the discussion to a conclusion. He rose to his feet and, once more, shook the bank manager's hand. "Thank you for your valuable time, sir! You've been most helpful." The bank manager smiled. "The pleasure was all mine, Batman. I hope you catch the murderous villains... and recover the missing money, of course." Batman was deeply worried about the escalating gun crime throughout the city. He suspected that this was a further incident of weapons being used that had been stolen from the police arsenal, but he tried not to show his concern to those present. "We shall do our utmost, sir!" he replied, grimly. -oOo- Chief O'Hara drove the Caped Crusaders back to the GCPD HQ parking lot and dropped them off next to the parked Batmobile. "It does explain one thing, Batman," O'Hara said, taking off his cap and scratching his thinning scalp, as the costumed duo exited his car and leapt into their own vehicle, as soon as the security shielding had fully retracted. "Oh, and what's that, Chief?" enquired Batman, looking over at him, as he fired up the powerful engine, with a roar of flame from the exhaust. "The older security guard, claimed that the robbers seemed to be perfectly relaxed throughout the robbery. He said they seemed in no great haste to transfer the contents of the armored truck to their SUV. It was almost as if they KNEW they had plenty of time, before any of my police officers showed up at the scene?" Friday, 11:05 am The slow moving, unmarked police vehicle, made its way along the meandering driveway, heading for the ugly cluster of old and new buildings that comprised New Arkham Asylum. Acting Commissioner Schmitt was behind the wheel. Sitting next to him, was Harley Quinn, dressed in her familiar skintight, black and white harlequin costume, which revealed every curve of her slim, otherwise nude body beneath it. She was also wearing garish white clown greasepaint on her face. Bull and Shorty occupied the rear bench seat. Both hoodlums were suitably armed with automatic pistols, courtesy of the GCPD. Peter Schmitt swallowed, nervously. The staff of the asylum would be expecting him and him alone and it didn't help any that Harley had insisted on dressing up in her sexy but garish jester outfit. "Stay cool, Sweetie!" murmured Harley, reaching over and gently caressing his cheek, with the back of her left hand. "If Mistah J says this will be a breeze, then it will be. I can't wait to see my handsome Puddin' again!" The rigid state of her nipples, beneath the clinging confines of her costume, merely confirmed her state of high excitement. The unmarked vehicle cleared the last of the trees and cruised up to the front of the main building, passing between the large, well tended lawns, before rolling to a halt by the uniformed and armed guard, who stood in front of the main entrance steps awaited the visitor's arrival. The guard stepped up to the driver's door and was about to open it for the lawman, when he noticed the three other occupants, through the open window. His hand automatically moved to the butt of his holstered pistol, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. "I'm sorry sir, but you are not authorized to bring along any other visitors," he warned, even though he was aware that the police officer had just been promoted to Acting Commissioner of Police. Harley brought her arm up and placed the muzzle of a snub-nosed .38 mm pistol against the side of Peter Schmitt's head, before cocking it. "Please DON'T try anything silly," she requested the young security guard, with a disarming smile, as he went to draw his pistol, "or I shall be forced to splatter the Police Commissioner's brains all over that lovely, pristine uniform!" Her finger visibly tightened on the trigger. The youthful member of the security staff froze. By now, both Bull's and Shorty's automatic weapons, were clearly trained on him. He swallowed nervously, slowly released the gun handle and reached for the sky. "Better do what they tell you son, or we'll BOTH end up six feet under!" muttered the Acting Police Commissioner, with a grim expression on hid face. The guard nodded. "Yes, sir!" he agreed, shuffling his feet, nervously. "Take us to the Joker's cell!" Harley ordered the security guard, once all four occupants had alighted from the vehicle. "And put your hands down and try to act naturally. Just remember, there's a bullet with your name on it, if you try anything stupid." The guard swallowed hard and complied. The three criminals concealed their weapons (Bull had to hide Harley's gun, since her skintight costume couldn't have concealed a lipstick holder, let alone a thirty-eight). They then followed the guard up the stone steps. They entered the building and went through the usual routine of signing the visitor's book, before they all crammed into the small elevator that would carry them up to the correct level. As they walked along the corridors, passing through several sets of sliding, electronically controlled and barred security doors, on their way to the High Security Wing, Harley was on the receiving end of numerous puzzled or appreciative, often lingering glances, from members of staff, but none of them made any audible comment. As they entered the High Security Wing, the jailor rose to his feet, from the seat behind his desk. "Hey, Hank, what's with the crowd?" he enquired, looking slightly bemused. Bull pulled out his automatic pistol and pointed the muzzle at the man's chest. "Shut the fuck up and get your hands in the air," he snarled, with a dangerous glint in his eye. The jailor raised his hands above his head, a look of wide-eyed horror on his face. Hank and Peter Schmitt followed his example and raised their hands toward the ceiling. "What the fuck's going on. Hank?" he gasped. "Shut it!" snapped Shorty. "Sorry, Joe," murmured the young security guard, with an apologetic shrug of his broad shoulders. "Take us to Mistah J's cell!" Harley commanded, waving her shiny pistol at the warder, having just retrieved the thirty-eight from Bull. "The Joker's cell," Schmitt clarified, noting the warder's confused expression. The prison officer gulped and nodded, then walked ahead of them between the two rows of identical cells, until they arrived at the one containing Prisoner 143. He overrode the high-tech door lock with his electronic key fob and the barred steel door slid aside, smoothly and quietly, on well-lubricated runners. As the Joker arose from his cot, Harley rushed over and embraced the gruesome inmate, possessively wrapping one shapely leg around the green-haired clown. "Oh, Puddin', I have missed you sooooh much," she cried, before showering his pasty white features with hot passionate kisses. The Clown Prince of Crime dragged her entwined arms from about his neck and brusquely pushed her aside. "Time for all that later, Harls! First, we gotta get outta this dump." He exited the cell, to be replaced by the warder, who was then handcuffed and gagged by Shorty, before being locked inside the cell, using his own electronic key fob. "Now take us back to the car!" growled Bull, pointing his gun at the forehead of the frightened Hank. The young security man nodded, then he was prodded forward, toward the exit. "An' put your hands down, you idiot!" hissed Shorty. They made their way back to the elevator without any problems but, just when they thought they were going to get away with it, one of the other prison officers, who just happened to be walking along the hallway toward them, spotted the green-haired prisoner among the small group, just as the elevator arrived at their floor. "Hey! Where d'ya think you're going with that prisoner?" he called out, starting to draw his pistol from his holster, at the same time running toward an alarm button fixed to the wall, intent on alerting the rest of the security staff to a possible breakout. Those were his last words, as Shorty's bullet took him in the chest, flinging him backward, like a rag doll, to lie in a crumpled, motionless heap. Luckily, the gun was fitted with a silencer, so there was only a soft but deadly 'phut' as Shorty squeezed the trigger. "What have you done?" gasped Harley, her blue eyes widening in shock and horror. "You... you've killed him!" "Get in the fuckin' elevator," snarled the little man in the Hawaiian shirt, turning and herding Harley and everyone else inside, as soon as the door had swished aside. As they descended, no one spoke a word, but Harley looked as if she was about to burst into tears. Killing one of the prison officers had definitely not been part of her Puddin's plan. When they reached the automobile, Bull ordered the policeman and the security guard to turn around. As Shorty's and Bull's gun butts descended on the backs of their skulls, the two men crumpled to the ground, with low groans of pain. The blow to Peter's head, had been fairly light, but he still sank to the ground, feigning unconsciousness, just as they had planned. The young guard had received the full force of Bull's blow. He would later be rushed off to hospital, suffering from severe concussion. Harley slid her tight ass behind the wheel and fired up the engine, as the Joker tumbled into the seat beside her, and the two hired thugs clambered into the rear. With spinning tires and a shower of loose gravel, the car accelerated down the drive, heading for the cover of the woods, at high speed. The sound of the Joker's maniacal laughter could still be heard, even above the roar of the powerful motor. "Mmmmwwwwhhhaaaaaa!" Friday, 12:02 pm Joker let out a cry of delight, as they entered the abandoned warehouse, shortly after noon. The cavernous interior was crammed with a motley jumble of old carnival discards, colorful drapes and other circus trappings. Toward the far end, was an enormous papier mâche clown's head with a wide demented grin, that had once graced the entrance to a carnival ride. The mouth led into a small, partitioned off area. This was a garishly decorated boudoir with a king-size bed as its centerpiece, a hand of giant playing cards in the one corner and a lavish, gold-coated throne in another. "Wonderful, Harls!" he chortled, clapping his hands together, in child-like glee, and dancing around in a circle. "This is a real home from home!" He ducked through the mouth and entered the bedroom, and quickly discovered what he was searching for, in a large mirrored wardrobe. -oOo- When he emerged from the clown's mouth again, a few minutes later, the grey prison garb had been replaced. The six-feet tall jester, was wearing a loose fitting white suit with purple edging, together with a matching top hat, kid leather gloves, red silk shirt, green tie with purple spots, and polished black shoes with white spats. He had also taken the opportunity to comb his spiky, bright green hair and touch up his clown make-up, but no one seemed to notice this. "That's better!" declared the Harlequin of Hate, repositioning his bow tie slightly and executing a graceful pirouette on the tips of his toes. "Now I feel more like my old self!" He crooked a gloved finger and beckoned Peter Schmitt over. "How are our plans progressing, partner?" he enquired. Schmitt smiled at the Ace of Knaves. "The security truck robbery went off like clockwork this morning. We should soon be receiving our twenty percent commission for guaranteeing that the cops kept out of their hair." "Good, good! How are the gun sales proceeding, Shorty?" "Fine, boss! At this rate, we'll have to rob another armory real soon to keep up with the demand. Har, har, har!" The gruesome clown nodded, then turned back to Schmitt. "And what of Gordon, partner?" "Suspended, under suspicion of being involved in the gun robbery." "Excellent! I think a few assorted weapons planted about his home should help convince any remaining doubters of his guilt and help speed up his approaching demise. Shorty, Bull, take care of it!" "Sure, Boss!" Shorty replied. The 'little and large' of the criminal underworld beat a hasty retreat. "Come, Harls, time we utilized that comfortable looking bed in there," Joker declared, holding out a limp hand, foppishly. Harley smiled and took it, demurely, before allowing her Puddin' to lead her toward the boudoir. "We can talk more, later," the Joker added, almost as an afterthought, turning back to his partner in crime. Peter Schmitt experienced a brief pang of jealousy, but nodded. He had just been summarily dismissed. Friday, 2:08 pm As the Batmobile roared up to the front entrance of Arkham Asylum, the diminutive figure of Jeremiah Arkham, director of the institute, hurried down the stone steps to greet the Caped Crusaders. He had arrived back from a fact-finding mission in Europe, some two hours earlier, to learn of the prison breakout that had just occurred. Batman had been informed of the Joker's breakout by Chief O'Hara, in a terse telephone conversation on the Bat-phone, a short while earlier. Apparently, Commissioner Schmitt had been kidnapped at gunpoint just as he was about to climb into his car in the headquarters parking lot, then forced to aid the abductors in the prison breakout. O'Hara had just got off the phone to the Acting Commissioner, who'd been calling from the Gotham City General, where he had been taken, along with the still unconscious security guard. Jeremiah hurried up, wringing his thin wrinkled hands, as the Dynamic Duo leapt out of their vehicle and loped over to him. "Thank goodness you're here, Caped Crusaders!" he exclaimed. "Please follow me to my office, where we can discuss this unfortunate matter in private." Once they were comfortably settled, the elderly man recounted all he had learned since his arrival back at the asylum. "Apparently, Officer, er, I mean Commissioner Schmitt's car arrived at about 11:00 this morning, for a pre-arranged visit with the Joker," he explained, clenching his fists together. A brief look of surprise crossed the Dark Knight's features. "Wasn't that rather unusual?" "No, not at all! The officer has visited the Clown Prince of Crime on several prior occasions over recent weeks. I understand that he was trying to get the ghoulish inmate to admit to several other unsolved crimes that had been committed during the last few years." "Hmm? Did he have any notable success?" "Not that I am aware of, Batman." "Hmm? What happened next, Jeremiah?" "The car was met, as usual, by an armed member of the security personnel, who discovered that Commissioner Schmitt was being held at gunpoint, by three hoodlums, two men and a woman. They threatened to kill the police officer unless the guard co-operated fully. We already know who the blonde woman is, by the way! She was a former inmate of Arkham, currently out on probation, named..." Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 06 "Doctor Harleen Quinzel," Batman finished off for him. "Otherwise known as Harley Quinn." Jeremiah Arkham blinked, then nodded. "That is correct, Caped Crusader! They forced the guard to take them to the Joker's cell in the High Security Wing. Once there, the warder on duty was forced to free him. The jailor was discovered a short time later, handcuffed and gagged, in the Joker's cell, by another member of staff." "How did the deceased prison officer come to lose his life?" "Alvarez lived just long enough to gasp out what had happened, to the officer who came to his aid. Apparently, he'd challenged the group on their way out, tried to set off the alarm and was gunned down, in cold blood, by the shortest member of the gang, some murderous hoodlum wearing a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt. The poor fellow never stood a chance!" Tears glistened in the Director's eyes and he muttered a blasphemy under his breath. "Shorty!" declared Robin, angrily, punching one gloved fist into the palm of the other. Batman nodded. "Sounds like it, Boy Wonder!" He turned back to Jeremiah. "I take it that the group then made their escape?" "Yes, after first knocking out the Commissioner and the security guard, presumably with gun butts! They have both been rushed to hospital, by the way, but I understand that the Commissioner has recovered consciousness without any lasting damage, and was able to give a statement to the investigating detectives. The young security guard wasn't so lucky. He's suffering from severe concussion and is still in a critical condition!" "Let us hope that he makes a full recovery," Batman replied, sincerely, rising to his feet before shaking hands with the Director. "Well, thank you for your assistance, Jeremiah. It's always a pleasure to see you again. We shall do our utmost to recapture the Clown Prince of Crime." Friday, 8:30 pm Batgirl drove through the deepening dusk, astride her powerful Batgirl-cycle. Her pillion passenger, Sparrow, clung on tightly, her arms wrapped around Batgirl's trim waist. Neither girl was averse to having something hot and throbbing between their thighs. They were headed for The Pink Armadillo, they gay bar where Phil had disappeared, presumably abducted. "Is it much farther?" yelled Sparrow, above the roar of the four-stroke engine. She was covered in goose bumps and her nipples were standing out hard and firm. Neither girl's vigilante costume was ideally suited to keeping them warm in the coolness of the motorcycle's slipstream. Jennifer wished she'd worn her leather biker's jacket on top, but at least there was some measure of shared body warmth with the Dark Angel. "Almost there. Hang on!" Batgirl throttled back and turned the motorcycle into a narrow alleyway, then slowly rolled toward the far end, with the highly tuned engine just ticking over. It came to a halt by some trashcans and Jennifer dismounted. Barbara switched off the engine and parked the bike on its stand. Then the two Costumed Cuties carefully made their way to the end of the gloomy alley. Almost opposite them, across the busy, well-lit street, was the entrance to the gay bar. The shapely vigilantes crouched down, prepared for a long wait. It was a long shot, but the girls were hoping to spot Bull or Shorty entering the drinking establishment. Batgirl couldn't believe that the two criminals use of the bar had just been a 'one shot' deal. She suspected that the hoodlums who had abducted Phil, were regular customers in the Pink Armadillo gay. Such specialized establishments were still relatively few in number, in Gotham City. Friday, 10:40 pm Sparrow glanced at her watch. She was freezing. It was all right wearing sexy heroine costumes, but they were not very practical when it came to keeping warm at night, especially on a cool night such as this. She glanced at the gorgeous girl crouching next to her. Even in the gloom, she could make out Batgirl's dark areolas through the sheer material of her clinging costume. Her nipples were sticking out to an amazing degree, hard and pert, just made for suckling on. She shook the thought from her mind. "I don't think they're gonna turn up now, Babs," she whispered, clutching at her friend's arm. "Let's call it a night, huh?" "Yeah, I guess maybe you're right!" Batgirl agreed, reluctantly, but just as she went to rise to her high-heeled feet, Sparrow grabbed her arm again. "I think it's them!" Sparrow hissed, urgently. Two men had just emerged from the bar and started strolling along the sidewalk. One was tall and slightly overweight, wearing a white T-shirt and blue denim pants. His short, scrawny, older companion, was wearing a garishly colored shirt and grubby white pants, held up by suspenders, with a black derby on the back of his head. "It's got to be them," agreed Batgirl, excitedly. "Come on, let's follow them!" But, before the two girls could exit the alley, the men stopped and climbed aboard a battered old van, parked at the curbside. "Quick, back to the Batgirl-cycle!" hissed Batgirl, waving her shapely companion back. -oOo- The two girls followed the vehicle at a discreet distance, as it moved into the outskirts of Gotham, heading for an older section of the metropolis, to the south of the docklands. As the traffic density started to thin out, so they were forced to drop further and further behind the van, to avoid being detected by its occupants. "Where the hell did they go?" cried Sparrow, staring at the empty highway up ahead, as they came out of a long bend. "They must have turned off on that last side road," muttered Batgirl, performing a hair-raising U-turn and heading back the way they had come. "There!" she yelled, pointing to a narrow side turning. As they turned off the highway, along the side road, they immediately found themselves passing between the dark, gloomy structures of long abandoned factories and warehouses. This had once been the industrial heartland of the city, with easy access to the wharves and piers of the docklands to the north, but it was now mainly disused. "Where the hell did they disappear to?" Batgirl muttered, feeling her frustration starting to mount. "Look! Is that a light over there, to the right?" whispered Sparrow excitedly, giving Batgirl a squeeze. "Uh huh!" her companion agreed, bringing the bike to a halt. "We'd better leave the Batgirl-cycle here then creep up on foot." They hide the motorcycle behind a roadside bush before continuing, cautiously. Friday, 11:20 pm The battered-looking van was parked behind a dark colored automobile, in a roughly square area outside an old warehouse. Light seeped out from cracks in the corrugated steel cladding of the tall structure. The two Costumed Cuties crossed the yard and crept up a conveniently situated, old corroded fire escape, onto the sloping roof of the warehouse. They peered down into the building through a filthy skylight, with cobwebs and grime obscuring part of their view. Batgirl gasped when she saw the huge clown head effigy with the demented, wide-open grinning mouth, moments before she spotted Shorty and Bull lounging on a bright orange couch, strewn with cushions. They were sitting back, holding glasses of wine, and looking very pleased with themselves. It was only then, that she spotted the green-haired maniac standing before them, hands on hips. "The Joker!" she gasped, before holding a finger to her lips, as a warning to her costumed companion. She listened with her enhanced electronic hearing, just able to make out what was being said within. "... you plant the weapons at Gordon's place, like I ordered?" "We did, Boss, just like you ordered," confirmed the shorter hoodlum. "Luckily, he was out of the house at the time." "Yes, I have since been informed that he was visiting poor Acting Commissioner Schmitt, in the hospital, at the time. What a hoot! Mmmwwwhhhaaa!" Suddenly, a black and white harlequin figure of a woman appeared from the mouth of the clown effigy. "What's all the laughter about?" the girl enquired, smiling, fondly at the green-haired freak. "Harley!" gasped Batgirl, instantly recognizing the shapely figure in the skintight costume. "Just a private joke, Harls!" The Joker turned back to his henchmen. "Is our nosy police officer still in the warehouse, across the street?" "Sure, Boss!" "Well, we have no further use for him. When you've finished that bottle of wine, I want you to get rid of the pesky nuisance, once and for all!" Harley frowned. "Get rid of who, Mistah J?" she enquired, innocently. "No need to worry your pretty little head, Harley girl!" Batgirl sat bolt upright, her green eyes wide open behind her mask. "What is it, Batgirl?" hissed Sparrow, almost wetting herself with curiosity. She had been unable to make out the conversation herself, not having the advantage of Batgirl's electronically enhanced hearing. "Officer Thackeray is imprisoned in the warehouse across the street," Batgirl hissed. "We've got to rescue him, Jen, 'cause they're about to bump off the poor guy! We haven't got much time, so move your ass!" -oOo- Will the Costumed Cuties manage to rescue Officer Thackeray in time? Will Batman & Robin manage to find out who was behind the armored truck robbery or discover the whereabouts of the Ghastly Green-haired Ghoul? And what is the Joker really up to? For the answers to these, or other questions you might have, dear Batfan, tune in for the next chapter of 'Batgirl: Sex Bomb', coming soon to your favorite website! Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 07 This story is the sixth in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures, mainly based on characters in the early Batman comics and that wonderful '60s TV series but with the timeline brought up to the present. Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal use. No copyright infringement is intended. The Adventures Of Batgirl Batgirl: Sex Bomb Chapter 7: Out Of the Frying Pan & Into The Fire! Friday, 11:32 pm The two girls made their way down the rickety fire escape, as quietly as possible. One of several setbacks to wearing stiletto heels was the noise they made on metal surfaces, so both heroines had removed their sexy footwear before commencing their hurried descent. Across the yard from the bottom of the fire escape, was another tall derelict warehouse but, in contrast, this one appeared to be in total darkness. They pulled on their boots and ran over to the large double doors which allowed access from the yard, but found that they were securely padlocked shut. "Damn!" Batgirl swore, slamming a fist against the wooden door in ill repressed fury. "There's GOTTA be another way in here. Indicating the direction with a wave of her arm, she hissed, "You go that way, Sparrow, I'll go this." She ran along the right-hand side of the building, while her curvaceous costumed companion took the left. Moments later, the Dark Angel came across a side entrance and skidded to a halt. "Over here, Sparrow!" she called, softly. Grasping the handle, she turned it and shoved her shoulder up against the wooden door, but it refused to budge. The side entrance appeared to be locked, but a split second later, she spotted the key, still in the lock, and heaved a sigh of relief. Batgirl slowly turned the key and cautiously eased open the sturdy wooden door. It was almost pitch black inside the warehouse. The darkness was just barely relieved by the faintest hint of moonlight filtering through grimy, overhead skylights. She took a timid step inside, her hand groping for a light switch on the wall, to the right of the open doorway, while still trying to accustom her eyesight to the damp smelling, gloomy interior. CRASH! The wooden chair splintered and shattered, as it struck her on the back and shoulders, forcing the pent up breath from her lungs. "Ooooff!" "Unnggh!" The Dark Angel gave a loud gasp of pain, as she was knocked, sprawling to the ground, her prominent breasts striking the crumbling concrete floor heavily, producing another painful grunt from the costumed heroine. "Ughhh! She twisted over onto her back reflexively, as a shadowy figure leapt on top of her, from out of the gloom. Her heavier assailant grabbed both of her flailing wrists, as she tried to heave him off her, pinning them hard against the concrete floor above her head. The powerful assailant straddled her hips as she squirmed and strained, trying to break free of his vise-like grip. A prominent pale pink nipple peeked out from a fresh tear in her tightly stretched costume, as the panting heroine arched her back up from the floor, trying to shrug him off to one side. The man astride her blinked in the gloom as he finally took in the shapely costumed form writhing and grunting beneath him. "Batgirl?" he queried, in an astonished tone. Batgirl stopped struggling. "Officer Thackeray, is that you?" she asked, her big green eyes opening wide, in a mixture of surprise and relief. "Thank goodness you're all right!" "Yeah," he acknowledged, starting to scramble off her, with an embarrassed grin on his handsome face. "How the hell did you manage to find me, Batgirl? Oh, are you all right, by the way? Sorry about hitting you over the head with that chair. I thought you were one of those two slimy thugs who imprisoned me in here." Batgirl got to her high-heeled feet, gingerly kneading the back of her neck with her left hand. "I'm okay, but I'll probably end up a splitting headache in the morning," she answered, ruefully. "Thank goodness that chair was probably riddled with dry rot, otherwise I could be suffering from a severe concussion! As for your question, Sparrow and I trailed the two suspects, Shorty and Bull, back here, hoping they would lead us to you. Thankfully, they did just that." As Batgirl's eyes grew accustomed to the gloom she realized that Phil was naked, apart from a pair of snug fitting, polka dot boxer shorts. She couldn't help but note the considerable bulge in the front of his underwear and smothered a girlish giggle with the back of her hand. "You don't appear to be wearing a great deal, Officer Thackeray," she commented, with a saucy grin and a gleam in her eye. "I could say much the same about you," he replied, returning her grin. The Dynamic Daredoll was obviously naked beneath the tight-fitting purple body stocking, apart from an abbreviated black thong clinging to her hips. With his eyesight accustomed to the dim light, he could easily make out her large, dark areolas and the outline of her prominent nipples. Indeed, one of her pink nipples was peeking out of a small tear in her Bat-costume. "Very sexy!" he observed, his grin widening. His expression suddenly became serious. "Anyway, we'd better get the hell out of here, before my captors decide to pay me another visit." Batgirl nodded her agreement, but as they turned toward the partially open doorway, it was kicked in, with a loud reverberating bang, and the overhead strip lights were switched on. Shorty walked in, waving an automatic pistol in their direction. "Back up, suckers," he snarled, walking toward them with a confident swagger in his step, "and put your hands in the air!" Bull appeared behind him, holding a struggling, squirming Sparrow up against his chest, one arm wrapped about her slim waist, the other hand holding his gun, with the end of the barrel pressed hard up against the side of her cowled head. "DO IT, or the blonde bitch gets her brains blown out!" he barked, his finger visibly tightening on the trigger. They hastily complied and Bull shoved Sparrow over to join them. "Sorry, Batgirl, he caught me by surprise," the blonde explained, as she joined them, with both her arms raised above her head. "What's going on in here?" exclaimed the ghastly white, smiling face of the Joker, as the green-haired psychopath stepped into the warehouse, a few moments later. His eyes lit up at the sight that greeted them. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my old nemesis, Batgirl, together with that other costumed lesbian, Sparrow! This MUST be my lucky day. Mmmwwwwaaahhh!" As the ghastly peel of laughter rang out, there was a slight noise from behind him and the slim, black and white clad figure of Harley Quinn slipped into the room. "Is everything okay, Puddin'?" she enquired, then gave a gasp and clutched at her throat, as she recognized the sexy costumed and cowled figure of the Dark Angel. "Batgirl!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and concern. "Do ya want us to eliminate these two, as well as the cop, boss?" enquired Shorty, inclining his head toward the two curvaceous costumed heroines. "No, no, not just yet," the ghoulish clown replied, with another ghastly chuckle. "Not until we've had a little fun with them, first. Harley, remove their utility belts and then strip the bitches, but leave their masks and cowls in place! We'll leave that particular unveiling ceremony for a little later." He raised a hand in the air and theatrically rotated it in a circle, about the wrist. "It gives them an added air of mystery. Bull, I think our policeman friend looks a little overdressed too, don't you think?" Bull grinned and eagerly nodded his agreement. Friday, 11:55 pm The three prisoners had been duly stripped and now hung by their bound wrists from ropes attached to a cast iron cross-beam high above the boudoir area. All three were positioned facing the bed, their bound feet barely touching the floor. While the blond-haired police officer was now totally naked, the two females had, so far, been spared the indignity of having their thong panties, high-heeled ankle boots, masks and cowls removed. The Joker chuckled and nodded his satisfaction at the rope work. "Well done Bull! You and Shorty may go now, but do NOT leave the warehouse, just in case any further uninvited visitors decide to drop by." Both hoodlums nodded their understanding and headed for the clown's head doorway. As soon as the two thugs had departed the boudoir, the ghastly green-haired ghoul picked up a large pair of tailor's shears from off the top of the chest of drawers and approached the Dark Damsel, who squirmed, helplessly, in her bondage. He cackled with glee, at the look of consternation on her lovely face. "Have no fear my little Bat-slut, I am merely going to complete your disrobing," he hissed, through blood-red lips. His clawed fingers gripped the front of her black thong just above her sex, while he slipped the one blade of the shears under the half-inch strip of tightly stretched material clinging high on her left hip. Snick! Batgirl's bosom heaved, as she involuntarily sucked in her breath, and the Joker chuckled once more. Still holding the front of the garment in place, he cut through the remaining strip of material on her other hip, using the razor sharp shears. Snick! Batgirl gasped, aware that the only things still preserving what little remained of her modesty, was the hand of the Clown Prince of Crime, still clutching the front of her briefs, plus her tightly clamped together thighs. She was also aware that this situation would not last. "OLE!" the Joker cried, rising up to his full height, on the tips of his toes and yanking the scrap of underwear away from her body, with a flourish, like a matador pulling his red cape aside from the charging bull in a bullring. This caused her pelvis to jerk forward, involuntarily, clearly revealing her pussy to his crazed gaze. "Very neat," he added, with a chortle, admiring her neatly trimmed auburn beaver and the succulent glimpse of pouting pinkness within. "You... you disgusting pervert!" Batgirl gasped, going red in the face and crossing her long legs, in a vain attempt at preserving what little modesty she had left. "Har, har, har!" the Joker cackled, reaching out and tweaking her already prominent nipples into full hard erection. He turned and stepped over to Sparrow, flourishing his shears, and preparing to remove her tightly clinging red underwear, in a similar dramatic fashion. "Sorry to have kept you waiting, my dear," he murmured, through his ghastly, painted grin. "I hope you weren't feeling too left out of things? You look a little hot and flustered. Here, let me help cool you down." He slipped the blade of his shears beneath the strip of tightly stretched material on her hip. Snick! Saturday, 12:10 am The Joker lounged back on his gilded throne in the boudoir, and chuckled at the scene before him. The naked police officer, together with Sparrow, also naked apart from her cowl, mask and heels, were both facing him, strung up by their wrists. These were held high above their heads by lengths of hemp rope attached to an overhead cross-strut, part of the roof support lattice of the old warehouse. Their feet were just touching the floor, spread wide apart by means of three feet long spreader bars attached to their ankles by leather cuffs. The Batgirl was kneeling on the floor with her knees apart, facing the nude law officer. Her wide-spread sex was openly displayed to the bound lawman. She was also naked, apart from her purple mask and Bat-cowl. Her ankles had been bound together with a short length of white nylon cord. Her crossed wrists had been tied together, behind her back, with a similar length of nylon cord. Her face was held close to the man's crotch, by means of a thick leather slave collar buckled about her neck and an attached chain leash, currently loosely held in the hands of the towering Bull. The Joker admired the heroine's broad shoulders; the ripple of muscle just beneath the blemish free surface of her skin; the gentle curve of her back; the slim waist flaring out to rounded hips; her rounded, heart-shaped ass; and the pale soles of her bare feet. He felt the fat white slug, which was his cock, twitch within his baggy pants, as he gazed at this erotic scene. Despite his determination NOT to become aroused, Phil Thackeray was sporting a raging hard-on and the bulbous head of his twitching cock, was mere inches away from the full, purple-painted lips of the gorgeous, near naked, vigilante, kneeling before him, like some Middle-Eastern slave girl, her eyes downcast, too ashamed to look up at his face. Barbara felt a perverse fascination as she watched his thick penis bobbing up and down, through her long, luscious eyelashes, even though she had seen this particular impressive specimen before. "Take him in your mouth, Bat-slut!" the Joker ordered, gleefully. Bull gave an encouraging jerk on the leash, yanking her face closer to Phil's crotch. Batgirl's nostrils flared, as she smelled the unmistakable scent of male arousal. "Noooooooo! Never!" she moaned, vigorously shaking her head from side to side, tears glistening in her big green eyes. "I don't care what you do to me! No way, you disgusting pervert!" "God, she's magnificent, soooo sexy," Phil thought, closing his eyes, but still feeling her hot panting breath on the end of his engorged glans. Phil grunted and his eyes jerked open again, as Shorty painfully rammed the cold muzzle of his gun into his belly. "Don't go fallin' asleep on us, cop!" the hoodlum growled, threateningly. "Har! Har! Har!" chortled the Crazy Clown. "You will either do as I command, Bat-slut, or the cop is gonna get gut-shot and allowed to bleed to death, all over your sexy nude body. You ever see a guy who's been shot in the guts, Bat-bitch? It ain't a pleasant sight! The cop's fate depends entirely on your next answer, bitch!" Batgirl shuddered and made a hard decision. She straightened her spine, pushed back her shoulders, raised her chin, and then looked over at the Joker, with a look of utter disdain on her face. "Very well, but only under duress," she agreed, bravely. She swallowed hard and looked up at the handsome police officer, tears trickling down her cheeks, from beneath her Batmask. "Please forgive m-me, Officer Thackeray," she whispered in a quavering voice. He nodded. "You have no other choice, Dark Damsel," he croaked, encouragingly. He could hardly wait for those luscious lips to wrap themselves about his rock hard erection. Barbara gave a resigned sigh and opened her mouth, allowing Bull to guide the thick shaft between her wide-stretched, purple-painted lips. Phil groaned and jerked his hips forward, as he felt her tongue lave over the underside of his cock, and he eagerly forced himself deeper into the sexy heroine's hot wet mouth. Soon, he felt Shorty's hands on his hips, guiding him in and out of the girl's tight oral orifice, and felt an orgasm starting to build from the base of his belly. "If I die after this, it will have almost been worth it," Phil told himself, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, the better to enjoy the incredible sensations he was experiencing. Shorty gradually upped the tempo of Phil's pistoning, as he grew closer and closer to his climax. Now, the police officer was automatically grunting with each new thrust. "Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!" "I'm gonna cum!" he gasped, finally, trying to pull out of Batgirl's mouth, but between them, Bull and Shorty held him fully inside her, as he started to jet spurts of thick, viscous semen into the back of the courageous heroine's throat. Batgirl coughed and gagged, desperately swallowing his discharge, as she tried to clear her air passages. Excess cum oozed out from between her tightly stretched lips and his thick shaft, running down over her chin and glistening, obscenely. Finally, Phil was allowed to pull his shrinking member from her mouth and she lowered her head, tears of self disgust merging with the cum on her chin, before dripping onto her heaving breasts, as she gradually recovered her breath. "I always suspected that you were nothing but a cheap slut, Batgirl!" exclaimed the Joker, with his gruesome fixed grin. "You should be walkin' the streets of Gotham, NOT patrolling them! Har, har, har!" The two male gang members, joined in the laughter. Joker eventually turned his attention to her sexy, cowled companion. "Now, let's find out just how slutty the sexy Sparrow is!" he declared. "WHAT?" Sparrow gasped, coming out of the trance-like state she had slipped into, as she watched her closest friend giving Phil head. "Please, nooo! He's already been sucked dry," she pleaded, vainly tugging at the ropes binding her slim wrists. The Joker cackled. "I am well aware of that fact, you blonde bimbo. A dyke like YOU deserves to be serviced by someone of her own gender." He glanced behind her and his eyes lit up. "Ah, Harls, I see you are ready to satisfy this blonde bitch?" "Anything for you, Puddin'!" replied the black and white harlequin clad blonde, stepping past Sparrow and over to the golden throne, before kissing the back of his outstretched hand, lovingly. Sparrow's big blue eyes widened with shock at the sight of the huge strap-on dildo buckled about the other girl's hips. "Noooooooooo!" she cried, aghast. "You cannot be serious. Please, nooooooooo!" "Har, har, har!" The Joker guffawed. "I've always wanted to see some real 'blonde on blonde' action." "M-My vagina could NEVER take something that s-size," stuttered the pale faced blonde, shaking her head, vigorously, her eyes glued to the huge, life-like dildo, bobbing up and down in front of Harley's crotch. "Who said anything about your pussy, slut." "But, what..." "Have you every had it in that pretty little ass before, Sparrow?" "You can't be s-serious? Tell me you are joking," she gasped, squirming, desperately, as the smiling Harley walked around behind her and out of her field of view. She felt the other girl's hands on her shapely buttocks, spreading her ass cheeks apart, then the head of the huge dildo, nudging against her small, brown, anal sphincter. "Nooooooooooooooo!" she protested, shaking her head and trying, in vain, to pull away. "Relax, I'm sure you're going to love every minute." Joker nodded toward Harley and she thrust her hips forward, penetrating the blonde's tight asshole. "Arrrrgggghhhh!" Sparrow cried, jerking forward as much as her bondage would allow, which wasn't very far. The Caped Cutie was so tight that only the first inch of the life-like dildo had managed to overcome the resistance of her powerful anal muscles, which were desperately trying to prevent the ingress of this unwanted intruder. "She is delightfully tight, Mistah J!" Harley informed her insane lover. "Just like I used to be, when you first met me, Puddin'." "Get on with it," snarled the Crown Prince of Crime, growing impatient. Harley firmly gripped the girl's hips and thrust again, partially overcoming the resistance and penetrating a further inch or so. Sparrow wailed in agony, with each successive thrust, until the white-faced harlequin's artificial appendage was fully embedded inside her shapely ass. By now, Sparrow was drenched in sweat. The pain in her ass was terrific, but at least she hadn't been split in two, which had been her overriding concern. Harley began to slowly rotate her hips and ease in and out of the blonde's pert rear. She knew how she liked her own ass reamed and figured the girl would have similar preferences. Slowly, at first, Sparrow's pain began to recede, to be replaced by a feeling of intense pleasure. The costumed rapist slipped her hands around Sparrow's hips then reached down and drew apart her outer labia. Then she began to rub and squeeze the girl's already puffy engorged clitoris, in time with her rhythmic pistoning. Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 07 "Aaaaahhh! Ooooohhh! Please, nooooooooo!" Jennifer gasped, arching her spine and throwing back her blonde head, as she felt an orgasm starting to rapidly build. "You mustn't!" "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah..." She soon found herself gasping in time with each thrust, each squeeze. Shortly, she was pushing her ass back, trying to take even more of the dildo, as she felt her climax rapidly approaching like an out of control Union Pacific locomotive. "Yes, yes, oh yesss, yessssssssssss!" she cried, her nipples standing out like twin organ stops, as her blonde violator sent her over the edge into a mind blowing orgasm. When Sparrow stopped jerking her hips, Harley slowly withdrew the slick, gleaming shaft, a satisfied smirk on her lips. She had been getting almost as much pleasure out of the reaming as the victim. "All finished, Mistah J!" she called out, casually running her clenched right hand up and down the slimy shaft, as if it were the real thing. Joker chortled, happily. "As I suspected, Harls, just another filthy whore masquerading as a servant of justice." Saturday, 7:59 am Bruce finished his breakfast and pushed the empty plate away, with a loud satisfied sigh. "Excellent, as usual, Alfred," he complemented, smiling at the faithful old servant, who beamed back at him, myopically over the top of his spectacles. "Got to keep your strength up, Master Bruce," the grey-haired retainer replied. "Should I anticipate Master Dick's arrival for breakfast, momentarily?" "Didn't Dick mention that he was popping over to Ms. Goodbody's apartment early this morning, Alfred? Apparently, she has failed to return any of his calls since yesterday morning and he's a little concerned." "Er, no, sir, I'm afraid he didn't." A brief flash of annoyance crossed Alfred's face. "Mmm! Well, he won't be requiring any breakfast this morning, Alfred!" Bruce murmured, absently, picking up the recently delivered copy of the Gotham Daily Gazette from beside him and running his gaze over the front page headline: Missing Guns Found In Suspended Police Chief's Home. "Holy Cow!" exclaimed the multi-millionaire, sitting bolt upright. "What is it, Sir?" Alfred enquired, almost dropping the plate he was holding. Bruce Wayne held up his hand to silence the faithful butler, while he read the main news item. Following an anonymous tip-off, Acting Commissioner Peter Schmitt, today obtained a warrant to search the home of his predecessor, James Gordon, in relation to the recent weapons heist that occurred at the Gotham City Police Armory. We understand that the police raid took place sometime in the early hours of this morning and that a number of guns were recovered. The serial numbers were found to match those of some of the stolen weapons. Jim Gordon was immediately handcuffed and taken into custody, despite his vehement protestations of innocence. We understand that the former Commissioner of Police has been taken to GCPD Headquarters, where he is currently helping the police with their ongoing enquiries. Our reporter at the scene, Trevor Philpot, has managed to... Bruce threw the paper aside, in utter disgust, without finishing the article. "Those idiots have only gone and arrested Jim Gordon, Alfred!" he snarled, angrily. "But why, Sir?" enquired the astonished manservant. He had rarely seen his master looking so annoyed or use such strong language. "Apparently, they found some of those missing guns in his home. Obviously a plant! Someone is going to a lot of trouble to incriminate Commissioner Gordon, Alfred. Meanwhile, I'm going to try to arrange bail for my old friend, whatever the cost!" "Good thinking, Sir!" Bruce rose from the table, a grim look on his face, then headed for the door, determined to set the correct wheels in motion. His companies employed some of the best legal minds in the state. "Time they started earning their inflated salaries," he muttered, angrily, under his breath. Saturday, 8:19 am Dick Grayson was a worried man. He had ridden over to Jennifer Goodbody's apartment, only to find that his girlfriend was not at home. It was too early for her to have set out on her journey to work at the Central Library, where she usually put in a few hours on most Saturday mornings. Then he remembered that Jen had said something about going over to Barbara's place, the previous evening, when he'd last spoken to her on the phone. This had been about 10:30 the previous morning. He tried Bab's home telephone number, then her cellular phone, but there was no reply from either. "Damn! Where the hell is everyone?" he muttered climbing astride his motorcycle and firing the powerful engine into roaring life. He would go 'round to Barbara's place and find out. It was only a few minutes drive away. -oOo- Bruce was en-route to the WayneCorp offices for a hastily arranged meeting with some of the corporation's top legal advisors, to discuss Jim Gordon's situation, when the hands-free car phone started to ring. He took one hand off the steering wheel to press a button in front of him. "Yes?" he enquired, returning the hand to the wheel, never once taking his eyes off the road ahead. "Bruce? It's Dick!" Bruce instantly recognized the worry in his young ward's voice. "What's happened, old chum?" "I'm over at Barbara Gordon's apartment and there's no sign of her." "Perhaps she's gone in to work?" Bruce suggested, reasonably. "I don't think so, Bruce. Anyway, Jenny appears to have vanished also. I went over to her place earlier, and it was deserted! Also, neither of them are answering their cell-phones," Dick added, in a grim voice. "Hmm, I don't like the sound of that," Bruce muttered, checking his rear view mirrors and preparing to do a U-turn, as soon as there was a break in the morning traffic flow. "All right Dick, I'll meet you back at the Batcave, as soon as possible!" He swung the executive Mercedes around, with screeching tires smoking and headed back toward Wayne Manor, ignoring the speed limit. On the return journey, the millionaire businessman put in a quick call to Gotham City Central Library, which confirmed that neither girl had turned up early for work that morning. Things were starting to look decidedly ominous, especially since that crazed maniac, the Joker, was out there somewhere. He also put in a call to his secretary at the WayneCorp offices. "Matilda, I'm NOT going to be able to make that 9:00 am meeting with our lawyers," he informed her. "Something more urgent has just cropped up. Please give them my sincerest apologies and tell them I will get back to them by telephone as soon as possible." "Very well, Mr. Wayne," Matilda replied. "I shall inform both gentlemen that their journeys have been a complete waste of time, when they arrive, shortly." Bruce recognized the note of matronly reproach in her voice and smiled, grimly. "Thank you, Matilda. See you on Monday!" He broke the connection and pressed his foot down on the gas pedal. -oOo- What other fiendish perils will the lovely Batgirl and Sparrow be subjected to? Or, will this truly be the end for Gotham's two Maids of Might and the brave police officer? Will Batman & Robin manage to discover some clue as to the whereabouts of our curvaceous twosome before it is too late? As usual, dear reader, you will have to wait for the next chapter, to hopefully discover the answers to these and other intriguing questions! Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 08 This story is the sixth in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures, mainly based on characters in the early Batman comics and that wonderful '60s TV series but with the timeline brought up to date. No animals were harmed and no tobacco products were used, during the writing of this tale. Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal use. No copyright infringement is intended. * The Adventures Of Batgirl Batgirl: Sex Bomb Chapter 8: Party Poopers Saturday, 9:19 am The two masked vigilantes stood facing each other in the Batcave beneath Wayne Manor, hands on hips. Both men had changed into their familiar superhero costumes, in readiness for possible action. Robin slammed one gloved fist into the palm of the other hand. "Holy Vanishing Act, Batman!" he exclaimed, with almost child-like petulance. "What the hell has happened to them? I'm almost out of my mind with worry." The senior member of the Dynamic Duo remained totally calm, a frown of concentration creasing his forehead beneath his Batcowl. "You did say that Jennifer was planning to go and see Barbara, last night, didn't you?" he inquired. The Boy Wonder nodded, wondering where this line of conversation was leading. "Yeah, about eight. Barbara was pretty up-tight about her father's suspension from the force and, when I last spoke to Jenny on the phone, she told me she was going over to Bab's place last night, to try to cheer her up." "Hmm?" Batman stroked his square jaw thoughtfully, with the fingers of his right hand. "Knowing just how headstrong the delectable Ms. Gordon can be, you don't think she might have talked young Jennifer into going out on night patrol with her, as Batgirl and Sparrow? Perhaps to search for possible clues as to the identity of the real perpetuators of the weapons heist." "It's a possibility," Robin admitted. "Perhaps even likely, but how does that help us?" He clenched his gloved fists, his youthful impatience starting to re-assert itself. Batman walked over and seated himself in front of the Batcomputer. "Perhaps more than you might realize, old chum. He started clicking the mouse cursor on various menus and icons on the desktop display, searching for a particular application. While doing this, he continued their conversation. "You remember that upgrade to Batgirl's enhanced electronic hearing, that I carried out the other week? The one that fits into the ears of her Batcowl?" "The improved hearing aid, designed by the whiz kids over at WayneTech Electronics? Yeah, I remember, but what's..." Batman turned back to face him, a broad grin on his face. "Well, I took the opportunity to insert a small, experimental tracking device into it, without the Dark Damsel's knowledge, of course. If she had known, she would probably have kicked up an almighty fuss, and accused me of treating her like a little child!" "Yeah, that sounds like Barbara," Robin agreed, nodding, absently. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. "Hey, does that mean we should be able to track down Batgirl's whereabouts?" he exclaimed, excitedly. Batman turned back to the flat panel monitor screen and clicked the mouse cursor on an application icon, causing a satellite navigation map of Gotham City to spring up onto the screen, similar to the SatNav displays in the Batmobile and in his top of the line Mercedes saloon. "This application uses the latest GPS, Global Positioning System software, Robin," the Dark Knight explained. "It was originally developed by the Department of Defense and involves the use of a series of orbiting communications satellites. Assuming that Barbara is currently wearing her latest Batgirl outfit, and that she's within a 10 mile radius, hopefully we should..." He clicked a button on the right of the map display, with the mouse cursor. "Ah, that's what I was hoping to see, Batgirl's, and almost certainly Sparrow's, current whereabouts!" he exclaimed, leaning back in the chair. Robin rushed up and peered over Batman's shoulder, at the road map display on the monitor screen. There was a small winking red light toward the bottom right corner of the map, just to the south of the Gotham City docklands. "Hey, if I'm not mistaken, that's an old industrial area, with lots of rundown factories and loads of old abandoned buildings," the Boy Wonder exclaimed, excitedly. "Just the sort of place where the Joker might have his latest lair," mused the Dark Knight, thoughtfully. The Boy Wonder straightened up, a fresh look of shock on his face. "You... you think that ghastly maniac may have something to do with the disappearance of the girls, Batman?" he gasped. "Possibly, Boy Wonder? What is the common denominator that links most of the major crime events that have occurred in Gotham, recently?" The Boy Wonder frowned in concentration. "The stolen guns," he ventured. "Yes, that AND a certain police officer." "Schmitt?" exclaimed Robin, his eyes widening. "Yes, none other than Acting Police Commissioner Schmitt. I have just discovered, thanks to the Batcomputer's unofficial link to the main GCPD computer terminal, that Schmitt was familiar with the security systems used in the central armory, having overseen their initial installation, on behalf of the force. He was also directly involved in the suspension of Jim Gordon and his subsequent arrest. He could also have been responsible for the delay in the police attending the scene of the armored truck robbery, since he IS the Acting Police Commissioner. It would be a simple matter of routing all emergency calls of this type, through his office. Also, we've already found out that he's been a frequent visitor of the Joker in Arkham Asylum, over the last couple of months." "Yeah, and he wasn't too keen on the Dynamic Duo getting involved in any further major crimes in Gotham," added Robin, excitedly. "Holy Subterfuge, Batman! I think you may have something there." "Schmitt was also involved in Joker's escape from Arkham, although, on the face of it, he appears to have become involved very much against his will. Hmm, I wonder? Well, enough of this supposition, old chum," the Caped Crusader exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "We have two damsels in distress who need rescuing. To the Batmobile!" Saturday, 10:13 am Peter Schmitt strode through what he regarded as a junk shop of tatty circus memorabilia and nodded at the two hoodlums sprawled out on a couch, drinking cheap booze. He received a nodded acknowledgement in return. As he entered the clown's head mouth, which led into the Joker's boudoir, there was a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Things are going nicely, partner," he crowed, rubbing his hands together, avariciously. "The Gotham crime syndicate are..." His jaw fell open, as he spotted the three naked prisoners, suspended by their wrists from ropes hanging from an overhead beam. Two of them were shapely young females and the third was a man. One of the girls was moaning, loudly, with her head thrown back. "Nooooo! Please, no more!" she begged, in a tremulous voice. The Joker was standing close up against the front of her, with his trousers about his ankles, his scrawny white ass, jerking back and forth, as he raped his helpless victim. With a start of surprise, Schmitt recognized the object of the Joker's unwelcome attentions. It was the Batgirl, shapely scourge of the Gotham City underworld. The gruesome clown glanced over his shoulder, without any perceptible change in the rhythmical jerking of his hips. "Be... with you... in a minute... partner!" he panted, firmly gripping the helpless girl's buttocks and continuing to hump into her sopping pussy. Batgirl groaned, with a mixture of pain and passion, as the thick corpse-white appendage, pistoned in and out of her tight clinging vagina, her spine arching and her swollen breasts thrusting out, their crests tight and erect with unwanted passion. "Noooo, please... you m-mustn't," she pleaded, almost in a whisper, desperately trying to disown the feelings of intense sexual arousal, as she felt an orgasm starting to build, deep within her. "Aaahhhhhh! Oh dear God! Nooooooooo!" Her hips began to thrust forward to meet each deep penetration, giving the lie to her feeble protestations. Harley Quinn, who had been lounging on the king-size bed, consumed with jealousy, as she watched her Puddin' having sex with the Dark Angel, jumped to her feet, with a cry of delight, and rushed over to the senior policeman. She wrapped her arms about Schmitt's neck and showered his face with kisses. "I've missed you pumpkin," she cried, as she pulled away, smiling, happily. At that same instant, her Puddin' attained his climax. The Batgirl had just wrapped her unshackled legs around his hips to hold him deep inside her while they copulated. "Hallelujah!" exclaimed the Joker, throwing both hands in the air and shaking them vigorously, like some sort of religious preacher, as he thrust his hips forward and started to cum inside his helpless victim. Sparrow had been watching the gruesome, green-haired monster raping her helpless friend and sometimes lover, with a mixture of disgust and frustration, because she was unable to do anything to save her. She was uncomfortably aware that her own pussy had grown moist and her nipples had grown hard and erect, at this sight. She was also aware of the impressive erection that Officer Thackeray had developed as he too witnessed Batgirl's sexual degradation. When his climax was over the Joker withdrew his shrinking bleached white penis and pulled Batgirl's clinging legs from about his hips, before turning to face his visitor, casually resting his fat, slimy cock in the palm of his right hand, as he did so. Schmitt managed to suppress his feelings of revulsion, as he stared at the fat, slug-like appendage, glistening with the girl's secretions. "Excuse me just one moment, partner!" The Joker squatted down and pulled up his baggy pants, covering his still dripping organ, much to Schmitt's relief. "Now, you were saying, Commissioner?" "What the hell are THEY doing here?" snapped Schmitt, roughly pushing Harley Quinn aside. The blonde had wrapped both arms and one leg about him, trying to do her best limpet impression and hoping to make the 'love of her life' jealous. This had turned out to be a forlorn hope. Schmitt had finally recognized the naked male prisoner hanging from the beam. He was Thackeray, the nosy police officer that he'd had abducted. The blonde female was Sparrow, a recent addition to Gotham City's accursed crew of costumed vigilantes. "They've all seen my face now, you blithering idiot!" Schmitt snarled, starting to go purple with rage, as he looked back at the Joker. The Joker smiled behind his hideously distorted features. He had killed men for calling him less than that, but Schmitt was central to his plans... for the time being at least. "No need to get all hot under the collar, partner," he replied, soothingly. "None of them will survive long enough to pass on that particular piece of information." Schmitt calmed down a little and looked at the two strung up women with renewed interest. They were both completely naked apart from their masks and cowls, which had been left in place, for some incongruous reason. Both young women had magnificent figures, especially the Batgirl, whose thighs glistened, wetly, in the dim light, from her recent ravishment. The Dark Angel had the most magnificent, rounded breasts with prominent nipples, made to look even bigger by her incredibly slim waist. Unlike her two companions, her ankles were not manacled to a spreader bar, presumably a temporary arrangement. Schmitt's gaze dropped to her nicely padded Mound of Venus and the sparse pubic hair, wetly plastered against it, and he felt his cock starting to stir and grow in his pants. "Do I get to fuck the women first?" he asked the Joker, hoarsely. "Of course, partner. Now, how are things progressing?" the hideous clown enquired. Peter Schmitt dragged his eyes away from the nude women, both squirming uncomfortably in their bondage. "Gordon is safely locked in the cells back at headquarters, awaiting trial on the weapons robbery, and the syndicate has agreed to our commission fee of one million dollars, after a little haggling, provided the cops don't turn up and interfere, during their bank robbery, scheduled for late Monday morning." "Excellent! As you can see, two of our other objectives have also been attained. Batgirl and Sparrow have already fallen into my clutches. That leaves just Batman and Robin, plus that pesky, stuck up bitch, Barbara Gordon, to take care of. Then my revenge will finally be complete! OH, HAPPY DAYS!" He sang out the last three words, like a hot gospel singer, throwing both hands in the air and shaking them, as he did so. -oOo- Despite his exhausted and weakened state, Officer Thackeray had recognized Peter Schmitt, as soon as he stepped over the threshold into the boudoir. Suddenly, a lot of things that had been puzzling the young policeman had starting to fall into place. Obviously, Schmitt had been the one behind the weapons heist and his own subsequent abduction and imprisonment. The bent cop was working hand in glove with the ghoulish Clown Prince of Crime. The two exhausted heroines had also recognized the police officer by now, and had been busy putting two and two together and arriving at the obvious answer. Saturday, 10:15 am The Batmobile pulled over and rolled to a halt, at the edge of the main highway leading south. Some fifty yards ahead, was a narrow side road, leading into an industrialized area of grimy, dilapidated factories and warehouses, many of which looked as if they hadn't been used commercially in the last thirty or forty years. Batman stared at the GPS Satellite Navigation display on the instrument panel and the unmoving blinking light, positioned a mile south of the Gotham City docklands. He pressed a button and the view zoomed in on the flashing indicator. "According to this, our transmitter beacon is stationary, a few hundred yards to our left, on that old industrial estate over there," the Caped Crusader muttered, grimly. "Well, what are we waiting for?" the Boy Wonder exclaimed, impatiently. "Let's go get 'em!" Batman placed a restraining hand on the Boy Wonder's shoulder. "We will have to proceed carefully, from now on, old chum. If we alert the Joker, or whoever it is that we're assuming is holding the girls incommunicado, it might prove fatal for them. I suggest we continue on foot, from now on, adopting the utmost caution, during our approach." His young partner calmed down and nodded. Before exiting the Batmobile, the Caped Crusader put in a call to Chief O'Hara at Police Headquarters, briefly explaining the situation and arranging for several squad cars to be dispatched to their current location as backup. -oOo- "Batman?" hissed the Boy Wonder. "Over here!" The Caped Crusader made his way over to his colorfully attired partner, who pointed at an object hidden behind a dense clump of bushes, at the side of the narrow roadway. "Batgirl's motorcycle, I believe?" Robin whispered, excitedly. Batman nodded. "That further confirms it. Batgirl and Sparrow are around here somewhere, partner. They probably decided to creep up the rest of the way to their destination, on foot, just like we are doing. Let's hope we have more success at avoiding detection than they apparently did?" He was still working on the premise that the two heroines had been discovered and captured. They continued onward, passing between the crumbling shells of dilapidated old buildings, looking for any signs of activity or recent occupation. Suddenly, Batman gripped the Boy Wonder's arm. "Look!" he hissed, pointing with his other outstretched hand. Just ahead of them was a large open space, in the middle of a cluster of buildings. Two automobiles and a battered delivery van were parked alongside the front of a big warehouse structure. A glimmer of artificial light escaped from various chinks in the rusty corrugated cladding of the building's walls. "This looks like it might be the right place," Robin breathed, crouching low behind a heap of roadside rubble. "Do we rush the joint?" "I think we should reconnoiter first," Batman murmured. "We don't want to go rushing in blind. Look, there's a fire escape over there! Let's see what we can discover from up above." -oOo- "Where have I seen this limo before?" puzzled the Boy Wonder, as they crept past the larger automobile, heading for the rusting fire escape. "I have a sneaking feeling that it belongs to Commissioner Schmitt," Batman replied, in barely a whisper. "Holy..." Batman slapped his hand over his young partner's mouth. "Quiet!" he hissed. "We don't want to alert anyone to our presence!" Robin nodded, red-faced, and Batman removed his gloved hand. The two Caped Crusaders crept up the rickety fire escape, onto the sloping roof of the warehouse, and peered down through a filthy glass skylight, into an interior illuminated by artificial strip lighting. The Warehouse appeared to have been subdivided into two sections. The larger area was strewn with numerous items that appeared to have been acquired from a circus or carnival show, together with colorful drapes and other circus trappings. Two ugly looking individuals, one short and one tall, lounged back on a bright orange-colored couch, talking and drinking from wine bottles. Two automatic pistols, lay on a low table in front of them, within easy reach should they be needed. "Shorty and Bull?" enquired the Boy Wonder, softly. Batman nodded. "Obviously the reception committee for any unwanted visitors," he muttered, grimly. Robin nodded. The centerpiece of the warehouse, however, was a huge clown's head effigy, apparently made from papier mache or some similar material, with a demented, wide-open, grinning mouth, that acted as the entrance to an inner sanctum. Cobwebs partially obscured their view of the latter, preventing them from clearly seeing into this smaller, partitioned off area. "I think we have our confirmation about whose warped mind is behind all this," Batman murmured, grimly. His costumed companion nodded, then moved along the roof to the next skylight, hoping to get a clear view of the remainder of the interior. "Holy Torture Chamber!" Robin gasped, going a deathly pale. He hastily beckoned the Dark Knight over. The smaller section, contained a king-sized bed at its centre, with a gilt-clad throne and a giant hand of playing cards in two of the four corners. The remaining corners contained a wardrobe and a battered chest of drawers. But, the thing that immediately caught their attention were the three prisoners, hanging by their wrists from ropes attached to an overhead beam. The two women and the man had been stripped naked, although the females had been allowed to retain their familiar cowls and masks. The ghastly, white-faced, green-haired figure of the Joker, was just in the act of pulling his pants up from about his ankles, and Robin realized, with a sickly sensation, that he must have just finished having sex with one of the prisoners. The Joker turned to address a uniformed figure, which Robin immediately recognized as Acting Police Commissioner Peter Schmitt. Schmitt, in turn, roughly pushed away the black and white harlequin costumed figure of Harley Quinn, who had been clinging to him, possessively. The blonde girl scurried away and sat down on the bed, an annoyed expression on her lovely face. Batman joined Robin, crouching beside the skylight. "Batgirl and Sparrow," Robin whispered, unnecessarily. "Uh, huh." They watched Schmitt and the Joker in animated conversation. Neither could make out the words and Batman regretted not having installed electronically enhanced hearing in his own Batcowl, an omission he would ensure was corrected, at the first available opportunity. Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 08 "We shall have to take care of Bull and Shorty first," murmured the Caped Crusader, after a couple of minutes. "Without alerting the others to that fact, if humanly possible. They are all armed no doubt, so we must avoid risking the lives of Batgirl and Sparrow at all costs." Robin nodded his acceptance. Beads of sweat had started to form on his forehead. The next few minutes would be crucial. Saturday, 10:25 am "I wonder if the Joker will allow us to have our evil way with those two sexy bitches before we have to fit 'em with cement overshoes and dump 'em in the bay?" Shorty murmured, a lewd leer on his rodent-like features, as he stared into the distance, eyes partially unfocussed, as he imagined what he'd like to do to the ravishing redhead and her blonde sidekick. Swissshhh! Clunk! "Wha'd'ya think, Bull?" he added. There was no reply. "I said, wha'd'ya think?" Shorty repeated, tipping his derby further back on his head and half-turning toward the big man seated beside him. "What the...?" Bull was slumped back on the couch, head back, mouth open, blood seeping from a nasty looking wound in his forehead. The little man, blinked once, as comprehension dawned. "SHIT!" Shorty snarled, making a grab for his automatic weapon. Swissshhh! Clunk! A second Batarang flew through the air and struck him on the side of his temple, just as his fingers were closing around the butt of the pistol. With a soft sigh, Shorty collapsed forward onto the low table, knocking both weapons onto the floor, with a loud metallic clatter. "What's all the noise out there?" called the voice of Commissioner Schmitt, from within the inner chamber. There was no reply. Like two silent wraiths, the Dynamic Duo loped through the warehouse and took up their positions on either side of the open grinning mouth of the huge clown head, their backs pressed hard up against the crumbling papier mache. "I said, what's with all the...." Schmitt repeated, as he stepped out of the hideous grinning mouth. His eyes alighted on the two unconscious hoodlums and he immediately went for his service pistol. As his hand came up, finger on the trigger, he half-turned, spotting the Batman to his left. "YOU?" he gasped, incredulously. But, even as his gun hand came up, the flying boot of Robin struck his wrist, knocking his arm up and destroying his aim, just as he squeezed the trigger. BANG! The bullet ricocheted off the overhead ironwork, with a loud whining noise and Batman grabbed Schmitt's wrist and twisted it viciously before he could take aim again. "Drop the gun, Schmitt, or I will be forced to break your wrist," the Batman warned, through gritted teeth, his eyes glittering, menacingly. "Yeah, and that goes double for me," growled the Boy Wonder, grabbing the man's other wrist from behind and twisting his arm high up his back. "Yeowww!" Schmitt screeched. He had never been one to withstand unnecessary pain, so he dropped the gun, with a noisy clatter. "Please don't hurt m-me!" he blubbered, as the Dark Knight spun him around and twisted his gun arm high up between his shoulder blades. "Aaaaaahhhh!" "Move!" Batman snarled, frog-marching the police officer back into the boudoir in front of him. "Give yourself up, Joker!" he called, as they entered the room. "The police are on their way here. There's no escape this time, you Ghastly Green-haired Ghoul!" "No way, you Masked Moron," snarled the Joker. He had retreated behind the Batgirl, still hanging by her wrists from the vertical length of rope, at the sound of the gunshot. His left arm was wrapped around the heroine's spectacular chest, the pale clawed fingers of his hand, digging into the soft flesh of her right breast, while the right hand held what looked like a standard playing card to her exposed throat. The dazed looking redhead, gasped with pain, as the hooked fingers dug into her tender tit flesh. The Caped Crusader paused, as he realized that the playing card must be one of the Joker's special razor-edged specials, and that the green-haired maniac wouldn't hesitate to slit Batgirl's throat, without a second thought. "Drop that diabolical card, Joker, the game is up!" he demanded. The Clown Prince of Crime, cackled, insanely. "No, you release Schmitt, Batman, or the Batslut here, gets to lose her pretty little head!" He burst into another fit of insane laughter, knowing he had the upper hand over his arch nemesis. The Caped Crusader hesitated. He could try to rush the insane maniac before he could carry out his murderous threat, but the odds on success were pretty long, OR he could appear to surrender and try to catch the green-haired psychopath by surprise, once he had stepped away from the girl. He decided on the latter course of action. "Okay, Joker, you win," he growled, releasing his hold on the Acting Commissioner, who pulled away with an angry snarl. Schmitt stepped through the clown's head entrance, passing Robin on the way out, working his aching arm, to help relieve the agony. The Boy Wonder was frozen into position, uncertain what to do next. Schmitt retrieved his discarded pistol, then herded the Boy Wonder inside the boudoir, alongside his mentor, with a menacing wave of his loaded weapon. By now, the Joker had stepped out in front of the Batgirl and had his own handgun trained on the Dark Knight, who was standing with both arms raised toward the ceiling. "Hee, hee, hee!" the gruesome clown chuckled. "You thought that playing card was one of my special razor edged ones, didn't you, Batmoron? Well, it WASN'T! It was just an ordinary playing card, which I happened to find in my jacket pocket. That card couldn't have sliced through butter, let alone the Batslut's throat! Har, har, har!" He glanced over at the black and white costumed villainess, who had a strange expression on her face. "Tie 'em up, Harley! I hate gatecrashers at my little soirees, especially ones who try to ruin all the fun. Ho! Ho! Ho!" Harley blinked, then nodded. "Why sure, Sugar!" "Why you unmitigated scoundrel," Batman snarled, taking a menacing step toward the Joker. "Back up, Batmoron," snarled the green-hared maniac, waving his pistol threateningly. Harley stepped over to the Dark Knight and, pulling his hands behind his back, began to tie his wrists together, with a length of white nylon cord. "Sorry 'bout this Caped Crusader," she whispered, with a barely suppressed giggle. "In different circumstances, we maybe could've had some kinda kinky fun together." When she had finished her rope work, she did the same to Robin, using a second length of nylon cord, then stepped away and nodded to her Puddin'. "All done, Mistah J." "Mmmmwwwwhahahahaaaa!" The Joker's long peel of insane laughter, echoed around the old warehouse. At last, he had all four of Gotham's caped vigilantes in his clutches. He had dreamed of this moment, during his long period of incarceration. The Harlequin of Hate did a little jig of glee on the spot, like some ghastly, demented leprechaun. "This is the happiest day of my life, Batman," he chortled, tears of joy streaming from his eyes and ruining his carefully applied clown make-up. He dabbed at them, with a polka-dot handkerchief. "How can I ever thank you all for blundering into my hideout, like unsuspecting moths to the flame! Heh, heh, heh!" Batgirl, who had finally fully recovered her senses, had been listening to the conversation with increasing alarm. She realized that she had to do something fast and try to catch the grinning maniac by surprise, if they were all going to get out of this predicament alive. She stood on her tip-toes and shuffled her feet backward, as far as the restraining rope would allow. Then, lifting her feet off the floor, she swung forward in a short arc, taking her full weight on her arms. Her fully extended right leg swept forward in a vicious rising trajectory, as she employed every ounce of force she could muster. Her boot-clad foot, rose between the Joker's slightly parted legs and the steel toe-cap connected, heavily, with that most delicate part of his disgusting male anatomy. "Aaaiiiiiieeeeee!" The Clown Prince of Crime screeched in agony, the automatic pistol flying from his grasp, as he staggered forward a couple of paces then started to crumple to the floor. "What the fu..." Peter Schmitt, who had been standing facing the Caped Duo, spun around to face the Joker, as the shrill scream echoed throughout the warehouse. His gun was raised, ready to fire, but before he could pull the trigger, Batman's booted foot struck him in the small of his back, with tremendous force, sending the crooked cop stumbling forward, to go sprawling, face down. Before the police officer could scramble to his feet, Batman had yanked his hands free of their loose bindings, courtesy of Harley Quinn, and was upon him, grabbing the wrist of his gun hand and pounding it against the floor, until Schmitt released the weapon, with a defeated screech of agony. Aided by Harley, Robin pulled his hands free of his slack nylon bonds and bounded over to the still groggy Joker. He dragged the green-haired ghoul to his feet, by his jacket collar, before the Joker could recover sufficiently to go for his gun. Batman arose to his feet, dragging the Acting Police Commissioner up with him. "Never count your chickens before they're hatched, Joker!" the Dark Knight offered, addressing the green-haired lunatic, as if he were some backward child. He tossed Schmitt's police special over to the harlequin costumed blonde. "Thank you for your help, Doctor Quinzel. Much appreciated! Please keep that gun trained on these criminals, just in case one of them decides to try something foolish, while I'm contacting the police!" The slim blonde gulped and nodded, anxiously, before shakily training the handgun on the two criminals. The green-haired ghoul stared at Harley, open-mouthed, almost frothing with indignation. "You traitorous bitch, Harls," he spat. "How could you do this to me?" The girl stared back, tearfully. "I'm sorry, Mistah J, but I couldn't let you murder these innocent people. There was no other way. Sorry, Puddin', but I still love you... honest!" Before the Caped Crusader could make the call on his Batphone, a posse of uniformed police officers rushed into the boudoir, guns drawn, led by none other than Chief O'Hara. "Begorra, Batman! Looks like we arrived just too late to join in the fun," the florid faced Irishman exclaimed, a little out of breath, his face breaking into a relieved grin, as he took in the scene. He turned to a fellow officer. "Cut those prisoners down, Murphy," he ordered, brusquely. "Then find something to cover them up with." Chief O'Hara then turned to the shapely, harlequin clad blonde, who was still shakily pointing the gun at the Joker, despite the fact that two brawny armed policemen had just taken him into custody. "Better hand over that gun, lassie," he growled. "One false move and my men will be forced to shoot you down!" "Steady, Chief, she's on our side," cautioned the Caped Crusader, with a rye grin. -oOo- Joker & his gruesome gang, finally captured! The two Costumed Cuties and Officer Thackeray rescued from their dire dilemma! For any outstanding questions that you might have, dear reader, read on, as we come to the Conclusion of our convoluted tale. Conclusion: Run That Past Me Again! Saturday, 4:05 pm There was a polite knock on the open door. Jim Gordon's eyes widened with delight, as he looked up from his chair, behind his desk in GCPD headquarters. "Come in, come in!" he called out, beckoning his latest visitors into his office, with a welcoming smile. The office was becoming pretty crowded. Already standing around the large, imposing desk of the recently reinstated Police Commissioner, was his second in command, Chief O'Hara, his lovely red-headed daughter, Barbara, and her cute blonde friend from the library, Jennifer Goodbody. "Thanks for dropping by, Caped Crusaders," Commissioner Gordon added, rising to his feet to greet the latest arrivals. Batman strode over to the Commissioner and gripped his outstretched hand, before pumping it, vigorously. "Good to have you back at the helm, Commissioner Gordon!" he declared, emotionally. "The place just wasn't the same without you." Jim smiled. "It's good to be back, Batman, although I'm still somewhat baffled by this whole sequence of events," admitted the aging policeman, shaking his head, with an embarrassed grin on his face. "As I understand it, that Crown Prince of Criminality, the Joker, was behind this whole confusing caper?" The Dark Knight nodded, soberly. "Correct Jim! The Ace of Knaves had linked up with Officer Peter Schmitt, in a cunning scheme that was guaranteed to get you out of the way, while they masterminded the biggest crime wave in the history of our fair metropolis. At the same time, the Green-haired Ghoul, together with a further trio of dastardly accomplices, was hoping to eliminate Robin, Batgirl, Sparrow and myself, thus leaving Gotham City wide open to numerous criminal acts of robbery and violence. The former Acting Commissioner of Police, has just provided us with a comprehensive list of further crimes that were planned to go down." "But why did they break into the police armory and steal all those weapons?" enquired the police commissioner's red-haired daughter, pushing the bridge of her large-framed spectacles back up her cute button nose with one finger, a puzzled look on her pretty face. Barbara was wearing her usual 'sensible' street attire, thus disguising her outstanding figure. Robin stepped in to answer the librarian's question. "The way WE have it figured, Ms. Gordon," he said, somewhat superciliously, "the weapons robbery served a duel purpose." He failed to notice the Dark Knight rolling his eyes up to the ceiling, at the use of the word 'WE' and continued. "Coupled with some well placed rumors, it laid the first seeds of doubt about the Commissioner's veracity and it also enabled them to widely distribute the stolen guns throughout the Gotham underworld, in readiness for the ensuing crime wave. Later, it enabled their hired muscle, Bull and Shorty, to plant incriminating evidence in Jim's home, thus ensuring that he would eventually end up with a long stretch in the pokey." Batman groaned, beneath his breath. Robin had obviously been watching too many old, late-night gangster movies on the cable TV channels. The Boy Wonder paused. He had suddenly noticed that the two girls were holding hands and Jenny's big blue eyes were locked on Barbara's face, rather than on his own handsome features. The senior Caped Crusader took up the explanation, once more. "Schmitt had already squirmed his way into favor with Mayor Lindsay and several other members of the Police Commission, so his promotion to Acting Police Commissioner was merely a formality, once Jim was out of the way. Chief O'Hara..." he paused here, to nod toward the Irishman, "despite his honesty and integrity, has always been a little too outspoken, for some of the more 'politically correct' members of the establishment, so he was deliberately overlooked." The uniformed policeman frowned at this but nodded his concurrence. "The Brink's security truck robbery, was merely the first of many major crimes that were scheduled to take place in Gotham, without any interference from the forces of law and order. Several major banks and jewelry stores, were scheduled to be robbed over the next few weeks, with complete impunity for those committing these heinous crimes, provided they paid a portion of their ill-gotten gains to the Joker. Luckily, Schmitt was only too willing to spill the beans, after his arrest, and the Chief here, is in the process of arranging a few little surprises for the thieves, when the attempted robberies take place." "Indeed I am, Caped Crusader!" confirmed the florid faced Irishman, in his lilting brogue. "With a little luck, we should get our hands on most of the major players in the Gotham City underworld." "Yeah, surprising how co-operative Schmitt became, after we dangled him over the edge of the roof of Police Headquarters, by his ankles," chortled the Boy Wonder, gleefully. Batman gave him a long, wooden stare, then turned back to Jim Gordon. "Robin is, ah, just joking of course, Commissioner Gordon," he added, hastily. "We would never resort to such unseemly, not to mention illegal, tactics." "What's going to happen to Doctor Quinzel?" asked Jennifer. "Well, she DID help Robin and myself, by deliberately leaving the ropes tied loosely about our wrists," admitted the Dark Knight. "So, I have promised to put in a good word with her parole board. That won't be sufficient to keep her out of jail, of course. After all, she did break the conditions of her early release and aided and abetted in the escape of the Joker from Arkham Asylum but, with any luck, she won't have any further time added to her existing sentence." Commissioner Gordon nodded and turned to his second-in-command. "I understand that Officer Thackeray will be kept in hospital for a couple of nights, Chief, just as a precaution, to ensure there is no lasting damage caused by his injuries?" O'Hara nodded. "Yes indeed, Sir! The brave boyo has a nasty gash on his head, but he's going to be fine, to be sure." He glanced over at Barbara. "He has asked if you might visit him before he's discharged, Ms. Gordon." Barbara nodded, vigorously. "I fully intend to, Chief," she confirmed, with a smile. She was hoping that their budding romance might blossom into something special and was going to pay the handsome police officer a visit in hospital, later that evening. "I think that young man will go far in the service, Commissioner!" O'Hara added. "I agree with you, whole-heartedly, Chief!" Jim replied, before changing the subject slightly. "It is a shame that Batgirl and her lovely costumed partner, Sparrow cannot be with us, this afternoon. I would've liked to have thanked them both, personally, for the part they played in the successful outcome to this case." The Police Commissioner would never have admitted it, but he had developed a bit of a 'thing' for the gorgeous Batgirl, especially since she had taken to wearing her revealing new Batcostume. "For some reason, they were unable to attend," replied Batman, with a slight smile on his lips. "No doubt hot on the trail of some other desperados," the Commissioner mused, aloud, before turning to address his lovely daughter. "I was a little disappointed that you didn't find the time to visit me in jail, Barbara dear," he said, in a slightly reproachful tone. "It was a harrowing experience, hopefully one I won't have to go through ever again." "Um, ah, sorry 'bout that, daddy, but Jenny and I were both a little, um, TIED UP at the time, so I couldn't make it!" Barbara squeezed Jennifer's hand, surreptitiously, and was rewarded with a quiet little titter. "I was very concerned though," she added, trying not to smile. "None of us ever doubted your innocence, daddy." -oOo- When the meeting eventually broke up, Barbara phoned for a cab for herself and Jennifer, explaining to everyone, that Jenny was going to accompany her back to her place, for a bite to eat and a freshen up, prior to their both visiting Officer Thackeray in the Gotham General. Jennifer sidled over to Robin and, in a quiet whisper, arranged to see him the following evening, smiling at the look of disappointment on his face, before following Barbara out of the door. "Never appear too eager," Jenny informed Barbara, as the two girls rode down in the elevator, "or guys start taking you for granted." The serious look on Jennifer's face, almost caused Barbara to burst out laughing, but she managed to control herself and nodded, sagely. "Very true," she agreed. Batgirl: Sex Bomb Ch. 08 Saturday, 5:49 pm The two gorgeous girls lay sprawled out on the bed, totally naked, apart from their makeup, which had become pretty mussed up by now, after a half hour of energetic lovemaking. Jennifer was taking her turn on top and was busy licking and sucking on the redhead's hard, erect teats with considerable enthusiasm, while she squeezed her lover's surgically enhanced breasts together with both hands. Her left thigh, was draped between Barbara's widespread legs, sawing back and forth against the moist mons of her beautiful lover. Barbara's head was thrown back against the pillow, her lovely face surrounded by a halo of wavy red hair. Her long, lush eyelashes fluttered, her eyes half closed, as she moaned her pleasure, through slack, lipstick smeared lips. "Mmmmm! Aaaahhhh! Oh, yes, yessssss! God, I've missed our sessions together, Jen!" she cried, breathily. The blue-eyed blonde paused and, raising her face from Barbara's breasts, brushing a stray blonde lock from out of her eyes before staring into those of the aroused redhead. "Are you still hoping to start dating that handsome hunk, Phil Thackeray?" she enquired, a little wistfully. "Uh, huh," Barbara confirmed, with a grin. "Why do you ask?" "Oh, no reason, but I can see what attracted you to him. That guy has a cock like a wild stallion on heat!" "Jennifer!" the redhead cried, in mock reproach. "But, now that you mention it..." They both burst into a fit of girlish giggles, before the blonde girl changed the subject. "What was it like, being fucked by that gruesome clown, the Joker?" she asked, with a curious gleam in her eye. "Horrible, Jen! Awful!" the gorgeous redhead replied, opening her eyes fully and staring up at her lover. "I felt so disgusted with myself, Jen, but there was simply nothing I could do about it." The blonde girl smirked. "It looked like you were thoroughly enjoying yourself, from where I was hanging," she replied, with a mischievous grin. "You didn't HAVE to wrap your legs around his waist, while he was fucking you, now did you?" "But... but that didn't mean..." Barbara started to protest, before realizing that Jennifer was only teasing her. "Why, you little minx!" she cried, in mock anger, grabbing both of the girl's wrists and rolling her over on the bed, until she was able to sit astride Jenny's hips, with the girl's hands pinned against the pillow, above her head. Barbara brought her face close to Jennifer's, her firm rounded breasts swaying gently, the perky nipples hard with arousal. "I shall have to think of some way of punishing you, for that catty remark, madam!" she growled, in her most menacing tone. Jennifer giggled and squirmed her ass, sexily, beneath her, making no real effort to break free. "I could make a suggestion or two," she offered. -oOo- Meanwhile, out on the busy streets of Gotham City, life went on as usual, a multitude of honest citizens going about their lawful evening pursuits, confident in the knowledge that the Joker was back behind bars once more, and they were safe in the hands of the four Costumed Crusaders, America's finest upholders of law and order. End