New Story: A Necessary Evil (Batman/Nightwing) Part 7
JM
depicted in the story belong to and are copyrighted by DC Comics and/or its
subsidiaries. I am in no way related to the company and have no ownership over
the characters. This is fan fiction.
Picking up after the holidays guys - more to come.
----- 7 -----
Nobody moved. The small room was quickly filling with the scent of sweat and
cum. For a brief moment, only Nightwing's gasps for air punctured the silence.
"Move, we only a few minutes before the next one," Dr. Tanner ordered.
His head still low to the floor, they heard Nightwing mutter weakly, "The ..
next..?"
The two students worked quickly, pulling the young hero's legs straight out
under him, and then flipping him over on his back. Nightwing's eyes were wide
open, staring into the faces of the two men, then seeking out Batman and the
doctor. Splayed out on the floor, he tried to lift himself with his left arm,
but the suddenness of the assault on his body had weakened him considerably.
Batman couldn't help but notice the state his younger partner was in. He had
been there himself, barely a few days before, and he felt a sickening feeling
deep in his stomach. He imagined what his friend must be feeling: fear,
revulsion, shame, and the churning deep in his groin that was just below the
surface, spent but preparing for another resurgence.
One student reached to release the buckles lining Nightwing's left boot.
Working quickly, he had the boot nearly off before the hero uttered his first
protest.
"Wha.. what the fuck.. are you doing?" he managed.
"Do it - get the other," snapped the doctor, turning on his heels and motioning
to Batman to assist him as he moved toward the examining table.
Nightwing had managed to prop himself up on his elbows, staring in disbelief as
both of his boots were removed. Above him, behind his head, he heard the
distinct noises of metal against metal, a clanging, then pieces snapping into
places. Dropping his head down, he caught sight of the dark stains snaking away
from his groin down his left leg, all the way to his knee.
"Oh my God," he whispered. "What the hell... did you just do .. to me? Get
your fucking.. hands - off me." He tried valiantly to kick at the four hands of
the students, but they were already reaching for the slim fastenings above his
waist.
"Nightwing," said the voice of Dr. Tanner, behind him. "You agreed to comply.
We must get you out of those tights before you succumb again. It is the only
way."
Before he could respond, one student - he vaguely remembered his name to be
David - the handsome one, the one with the strong jaw and beautiful hands - and,
what, what was he doing? Nightwing's head was spinning. Where the fuck did
that come from? David had reached into the top of the hero's reinforced spandex
tights, and the tip of his index finger grazed the bottom of Nightwing's abs, as
he began to pull.
A moan, more a whimper, escaped the hero's lips at the sense of that slightest
of touches. He struggled to hold down a sense of nausea mixed with pleasure as
signals shot out from the point of contact with his skin deep into his balls,
all the way down to his toes.
"Oh.. mother.. fucker," he moaned, head dropping back. Another finger, another
hand. He could feel them pealing the material away, pulling it down. Then, a
rush of air across the top of his pubic hair. Another rush of sensations, and
Nightwing collapsed backward, toes curling. In a second they were pulling his
tights down along his muscled thighs, snagging them on the base of his still
engorged cock, forcing it down before it snapped free, slapping against his
abdomen.
"F.. FUCK!" Nightwing shouted, lifting his head up suddenly.
"Move! Get him on the table!" The doctor's voice was urgent.