"I'm afraid that coat's a little too hot for you ner'-do-well!"
"Ironically, we've got you cold!"
The voices came from nowhere . . . yet they filled the whole room, just as did the shadows. The first, masculine and commanding, the second, youthful and daunting, but nasally. Browkowski, a huge man, shivered like an infant, recognizing the voices of BATMAN AND ROBIN ! Guardians of Gotham City and enemies of vice.
Brokowski grabbed for his gun, only to feel the sting of a metal batarang against his knuckles, knocking the gun to the floor with a clatter. Out of the shadows swung the Dynamic Duo. In panic, Browkowski charged with the crowbar in hand, only to be met with a hard right from Batman into his gut, followed by a quick two shots to the jaw. Browkowski lost consciousness before he hit the floor.
"Not much of a challenge tonight, eh' Boy Wonder?"
"Gosh no, Batman. As a matter of fact, I'd say it was almost too easy."
"My thinking exactly, ol' chum. This smells like a trap!"
"A trap it is, Dynamic Duo!"
The seductive, breathy voice came from the rafters overhead. The lights exploded. Batman and Robin found themselves looking upwards. There stood a woman dressed in a black leather bodysuit and thigh-high leather boots, exposing her robust, sinewy thighs in light - gray stockings. A black mask encircled her fierce violet eyes. With one of her black-gloved hands, she brushed a few tassels of her wild black hair out of her eyes.
"Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Madame DeBase. I set up this robbery and let the word out on the street about it. All just to led you here, my imperiled playthings."
"Not much of a trap, Ms. DeBase, if it's just you lording over us from the rafters," cracked the Dark Knight defiantly.
"That's where the fun starts, my dear fellow. It's not just me!"
From out of the shadows stepped a petite brunette girl, wearing a skimpy red hat-check girl outfit with vertical black stripes and lace about the cuffs of the sleeves and bustline, showcasing her hour-glass figure perfectly. Her shapely legs covered in thin ash-gray nylon with spiked heels. "Long time, no see, Dynamic Duo," she said in a girlish Bronx-accent.
"Holy Hat-Check Girl, Batman, it's Chickadee," Robin noted. "The hat-check girl from the fake restaurant Penguin set up for a front; back when he was trying to get arrested; so he could contact Ballpoint Baxter and use the signatures on the receipts to start an embezzlement scam."
"I see you've been keeping up with your memory training lad. Kudos," said Batman, always encouraging.
"Do you remember me, handsome?" offered another voice, this time from the left side. There stood a statuesque blond in a skimpy two-piece white swimsuit.
"Holy Hangtime! It's Undine, the Joker's beach bunny from the time he tried to take over the Gotham beach surfing scene to turn fun-loving kids into his gang of hoods!"
"That's just for starters, Batboys!" Madame DeBase cried. With a clap of her hands, the room soon filled with the former femme-fatales of felonious fiends and freaks bested by Batman.
Moth, the baby-faced, blond bombshell once led astray by the Riddler, descended from the roof dressed in her form-fitting leotard and multi-colored cape-like shoulderwrap. Legs, the dotting daughter of the nefarious Ma Parker, the criminal widow who led her children into a life of crime, stepped to the center of the room in her denim cut-off shorts and work-shirt tied by a knot across her pouty breasts. The three sinister sirens of Chandell, the musical genius blackmailed into a life of crime by his evil twin brother Harry, lined up behind the Caped Crusaders, wearing their high-cut Scottish kilts. The two former henchwomen of corrupt feminist Nora Clavicle were next: each dressed in a off-the-shoulder golden gown with long slits up the side to display their sensual legs. Finally, to close off the circle round our heros, came a small group of several college-age women led by a prim and proper blond in a checkered mini-skirt. Robin gulped nervously when he recognized them.
"Holy Foreign Exchange Students! Lady Prudence and her finishing school gang!"
"Why hello, Robin," the comely co-ed cooed. "The girls and I missed you so much, we just had to hop across the Pond to see you." The other mini-skirted, teeny-bopping Brits giggled and blushed, looking at Robin's manly shape with the hunger of jackals.
Madame DeBase spoke up, "You see all around you Batman, the former gang-molls of your greatest enemies. Their sheer weight of numbers is enough to subdue you, but I want the added kick of seeing you helpless against your own strict moral code." With that, the circle of women closed in on our heroes.
Chickadee grabbed Robin from behind, as Undine grabbed Batman. Immediately, Lady Prudence rushed up and undid Robin's utility belt, as Evelina removed Batman's.
"Batman," asked a near-frantic Robin, "what can we do? We can't fight women! It goes against all for which we stand!"
"Yes, Robin. This seems to be a case of one's convictions getting the better of him."
Slowly the women moved in on them,…
The sinister sisterhood giggled like vicious schoolgirls as they tied Batman and Robin down on long wood tables, pulling the ropes tighter and tighter around their ankles, shoulders, arms and waists. They begain fondling the imperiled paragons across their masculine chests and thighs. "Oooh, Batman," cooed Chickadee, "you're built so strong!".
"Blimey, Robin," said Lady Prudence, "I'm wild for those legs of yours."
"Holy Fatal Attraction," gasped Robin.
"What's your sick scheme for us," demanded Batman, "you hateful harlot?"
Madame DeBase smiled. "We, Batman, are going to remove your and the Boy Wonder's shirts and boots. We are going to kiss, lick, stroke and caress you . . . and film every moment! Kinky, but nothing that won't be able to be shown to even your youngest admirers! Meanwhile, our male cohorts will pull a series of huge heists that will confound the police. We then will send this tape to every news tabloid, put it in national syndication and release it on the Internet. You will be humiliated nationaly and the world will see you as a freak who spent his valuable crime fighting time carousing with wicked women! Your credibility will be shot and you'll be shamed out of crime-fighting forever!"
"You've forgotten about Batgirl," challenged Batman.
DeBase started laughing. "My dear Batman, right now Batgirl is walking into a trap of her own!"
She turned to Moth.
"Get the hot coconut oil and shaving cream, dearie."
Dressed in form-fitting tights and a fire-red wig under her cowl, Barbara Gordon pulled her Bat-cycle into the alley behind Berthford's Chocolate Company. She skipped of her bike with the grace of a swan and quietly trapsed around looking for an open vent to sneak in through. She was Batgirl, the petite predator of perverted perpetrators. She had heard about a probable payroll robbery here tonight and took it upon herself to intervine, leaving the police to focus on more pressing and urgent crimes. Around the side of the building she found a window jimmied open. Figuring this to be the thugs manner of entrance, she followed in.
Her small, svelte form glided in quietly, her firm curves moving with cat-like strides. She searched around the factory, looking in the dark for anything suspicious (besides a girl in a bat-costume.)
Suddenly . . . "MMMMMURRRPH!" The muffled cry came from the middle of a room across the hall. It was a security guard. He was a balding man in his early 40's, and about 30 lbs. overweight. He was gagged, with his hands behind his back and on his knees. Beliving him to be tied up, Batgirl hurried over to him.
"Don't worry, sir. I'll have you out of this in a minute," she whispered.
As she bent to help the guard, he threw up his hand into her face, and sprayed her with a gas from a small vile. She yelped out half a cry and fell to the floor.
The world was a blur, slowly melting into place. Batgirl looked up into the black openings of a cluster of nozzles above her. She tried to move, but couldn't. Something held her in place. Then she felt something tight around her wrists, down along her slender torso, binding her at her knees and ankles. She felt hard leather straps across her taught breasts, waist, and thighs, pinning her hands above her head.
Around her in a circle, stood several burly, rough-looking men and the guard. She recognized the other men: The Riddler's henchman from the gym, Kayo; Sassafras, one of Louie the Lilac's gangsters; Dustbag, one of the Penguin's goons and Atlas, one of Minerva's bodyguards.
The guard pulled off his mask, revealing a younger man with dark, hateful eyes. He was short and stout and had changed out of his uniform into a garrish, multi-colored leisure suit. "Comfy, Batgirl?" he asked.
"Who are you? What is this madness!?" she demanded.
"I am the Humbler. It is my mission to humiliate you out of the crime fighting business.
"Above you
are the topping tubes for candy confections produced by this company. You are tied to a rotating table that will spin as the
toppings smother you. When this factory opens tomorrow, you will be the ultimate taste treat.
Candy-coated crime fighter!"
With that, the hoodlum giggled sinisterly and left Batgirl's side. Batgirl struggled and strained against her bonds, gasping in fustration. Suddenly she heard the whirrling of starting motors. Slowly the table begain to turn. "What a bittersweet situation!" she quipped, keeping her humor in the face of peril.
The table spun faster and faster. Soon the world was a speeding blur. Then Batgirl felt some thing splatter against her thighs. Then her face. She recognized the sweet taste of chocolate. Then something soft and warm oozed onto her. She could see the light brown hue of carmel. Then the tickle of powdered sugar and sprinkles. Then a pelting rain of sweet-tarts, ju-ju-bees, peanuts and almonds, M&M's and crushed cookies, whipped cream and nougat. It smothered her from head to toe and all over her face, again and again.
She grimaced, swallowing a cry of anguish. Faster and faster spun the table . . . more cream, more chocolate. Batgirl squealed in rage . . .