Message-ID: <21475asstr$943578601@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: "stewartwarmling" Subject: {ASSM} Story. Batgirl & Dr. Strangetrousers Lines: 234 X-Original-Message-ID: <81jjfq$rk5$1@lure.pipex.net> NNTP-Posting-Date: 25 Nov 1999 15:09:46 GMT X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V4.72.3612.1700 Date: Thu, 25 Nov 1999 20:10:01 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, gill-bates, IceAltar, newsman, apuleius Batgirl and Dr. Strangetrousers If you are not 18, then bugger off and play Nintendo. You have been warned. Dr. Strangetrousers would never suspect that the cub reporter from the science journal who interviewed him in the mid afternoon about his charitable foundation was really none other than Batgirl. Eight hours later, I crept carefully through the undergrowth, my progress only notified to the most acute hearing amongst the small animals in the undergrowth. They did not fear me; they knew not what I was but they could detect my Batsenses working at the peak of their capacity. I could see the house now. The security lights would detect the heat from my body once I stepped out of the protection of the bushes. Sweeping my Batcape around my face, I stepped slowly out onto the gravel driveway, resting each foot slowly onto the white stones to reduce the sound of my stealthy approach. I knew that if my movements were slow enough, and with the shrouding of my cape, I might just cross to the wall without the infrared detector picking me up. As each step progressed, seconds stretched into minutes, minutes balancing on one leg, moving the other carefully forward, avoiding all sudden movements. At last, still in shadow, I touched the rough brick wall with the tips of my fingers. I swiftly turned my back and pressed against the wall, letting the Batcape drop from my face. I paused for a few minutes, my lungs heaving air into my body, regaining my composure after the long stealthy slink across the driveway. Moving more quickly now, confident that I was inside the area that the sensors didn't cover, I reached the window that I had tampered with earlier. Reaching down to my bulging tool-belt, I felt for the switchblade, released the button fastener and held it against my latex clad thigh. I always get a surge of excitement when I use my tools; I carry so many for different tasks. With my thumb, I felt for the catch on the side of the blade and pushed against it. The catch moved slowly along the bone-handled case until it clicked. The blade shot out, shining in the dim moonlight. Quickly I slipped the blade between the wooden halves of the window frame and slid it along, searching for the catch. The blade stopped, pressed hard against the old brass slide fastener until, with a squeak, the metal moved and sprang across. I withdrew the knife quickly and closed the blade by pushing the tip against the edge of the window frame. No one would see the tiny indentation in the woodwork. Pausing to listen for sounds of detection, I held my breath: no sound, no movement, no guards came to apprehend me. After a decent pause, I stepped forward and stood in front of the window. I grasped the bottom of the frame and slid it slowly upward, opening a gap at the bottom. Many burglars make the mistake of opening the window just enough to squeeze through. I can tell you from experience, Batgirl doesn't make that mistake. Squeezing thought a small gap takes longer and makes more noise. I opened it fully and raised my long slim leg to slip through in one easy step. My heart pounded; I could hear the beating thunder in my head as I carefully slid the window closed behind me. Cautiously I adjusted the sliding catch and wrapped a short length of fishing line around the catch, secured with a tiny piece of scotch tape. On my way out, with the documents from Dr. Strangetrousers' safe, I would open the window, slip out and close it behind me. From outside I would pull on the fishing line to close the catch, then I could release one end and the line would drop free into my waiting hand. So my plan was perfect as I crossed the room. I cast a shapely shadow from the moonlight. I noticed how slim I looked in the latex suit and small cape. Taking a few seconds to calm my nerves I turned and watched my shadow change shape; I turned sideways and watched the shadow narrow as my breasts came into profile, small and pert. Looking down I could see the nipples, equally small and pert sticking out. In all the years as Batgirl, I had never lost my love of latex. But time was passing, and I had a job to do, and so my attention went back to the task in hand. I passed quickly across the room and opened the cabinet in the corner furthest from the doorway. Crouching, I could see the front of a safe. It was old, secure looking, but old. I was sure that my Batskills would enable me to open it with little difficulty. I slipped my hand back down over the sleek shiny curve of my hip to the pouch dangling from the tool-belt. Found it! I withdrew my hand and raised the stethoscope to my ears. With my head bent, I held the cold flat metal end of the stethoscope against the front of the safe and slowly turned the milled knob on the safe -- slowly, slowly, click -- and back the other way -- slowly, click -- and in reverse again -- slowly, ears straining click, click! With the second click I felt a pressure behind my ear and started to turn, but a hand gripped the back of my neck and held me firmly. Whoever had me was strong; I could feel the fingers digging into either side of my spine. With a swift pull, the stethoscope had gone, and my hearing returned. The voice behind me was familiar -- all too familiar -- as the distinctive tones of Dr. Strangetrousers welcomed me to his home. "So, Batgirl, you sneak into my house in the middle of the night and interfere with my safe. No, don't turn round. We have a few options here, now, and none of them are pleasant for you, Batgirl. Hands out behind your back!" he snapped the last command at me. I had no option, I decided to play along and pull all the aces out when I had decided where the aces were. He quickly fastened my hands together with the flexible tubes of the stethoscope, knotting firmly to restrain me. "Stand up slowly and take two paces backward, Batgirl." I rolled onto my knees and with what grace I could manage raised myself up, one leg at a time. The effort increased the blood flow to my brain, again I could hear my heart beating, faster and faster, accelerating inside my head. I took a step backward as instructed. "Feet together," he whispered. I heard the zip sound of the cable tie around my ankles. I was bound hand and foot yet still upright. Dr. Strangetrousers spoke again. "So, I could shoot you as a thief then call the police. I'm a respected man; I have a certificate for the gun, but it would be sad for Batgirl to be labelled a criminal, even in death. Or I can have some fun: no one knows who you are, I can do as I please with you." I felt a chill sweep my body just before I felt Dr. Strangetrousers sweep me off my feet in one powerful grasp. As I was thrown over his shoulder, I looked down at the floor; his shoes passed repeatedly in front of me as he walked me through the house. We turned right, or strictly speaking he turned right and I went with him, not having the power of locomotion any longer, on up the stairs and into the third door along. Suddenly, and with little ceremony, I was thrown forward to land on my feet. Dr. Strangetrousers held me until I regained my balance, I realised that I was leaning against a solid wooded post that ran from floor to ceiling. From the top of the post hung a steel cable with a padded manacle cuff on the end. I heard the doctor release a catch somewhere and then return to the front of me. His hand reached out and roughly grasped my breast as he leered at me. All this time my nipples remained stiff and visible through the black shiny outfit. Damn them. He pulled at the cuff and I heard a ratchet mechanism whirring. In a few moments I heard three more ratchets and felt a silk padded cuff close around each wrist and ankle. The binding stethoscope on my hands was released, but before I could rub the recirculating blood into them, the doctor started to turn the handle of the first winch. Within seconds my arm was stretched out at 45 degrees to my body. He crossed back in front of me and repeated the winding at the other side; the handle turned rapidly and the cable tightened. I had seen these fiendishly efficient devices before: they were boat winches used on the trailers to pull boats aboard. I realised then that if they could pull a two ton boat along then I was trapped and powerless. With the cable tie on my ankles released, I was winched into a star shape and left to dangle that way in the frame, my feet barely touching the ground. Oh how embarrassing -- caught and bound by Dr. Strangetrousers, archfiend and deviant scientist, and my nipples were still sticking out. It must have been getting warmer in the upstairs of the house as I felt the crotch of my latex leggings getting distinctly damp. "So, now, Batgirl, I'm going to have some fun with you. Let's see what is in your bulging tool belt." I felt him run his hand over the belt and release one of the pockets. He reached inside and pulled out a pair of small silver clips. "Ah, so Batgirl, you brought your own nipple clamps; how considerate of you to save me the trouble," he laughed at me. "Leave my tools alone, you fiend," I shouted. "They are my tripwire fasteners," I continued, to little avail, as he placed the first one over my protruding nipple and let it spring closed. The teeth bit in firmly, but thankfully, because of the slick rubber of my suit, the discomfort was reduced to bearable levels. With the second one in place, he returned to searching my belt. After a few seconds he pulled something else out and placed it on a small table in the corner. I felt his hands touch my waist and then the zip on my latex leggings began to descend. Purely as a matter of personal convenience of course, I had fitted a zip that ran from front to rear. I felt the zip, and his hand brush past my groin, loitering to push against my swollen lips, as he released me from my rubber trousers. I felt the doctor push something against my pussy, then it started vibrating. "Yes, my Batchick, I have found your little purple vibrator. How sweet and it smells, if I am not mistaken, of your gorgeous delicate cunt-juice." "NO!" I shouted, "You can't do that with my Batcommunicator" but it was too late. I felt the rounded tip push between my cunnylips and start to vibrate its way deep into the moist groove. He laughed deeply to himself as I hung helplessly with my cunt being vibrated by the rude intrusion. Mind you, there was a certain something to be said for having the Batcommunicator thrust up there; it did indeed look and feel distinctly like a vibrator. Before he left me there, he zipped up my leggings, trapping the buzzing bomb shape inside my soaking body -- the evil deviant fiend! The minutes went by as I vibrated closer to a climax, then, without warning, Dr. Strangetrousers appeared in front of me, this time without his famous strange trousers. In his hand he gripped his enormous erect penis. I looked down at it and noticed the shine of the single dew drop of his lubricating pre-cum on the tip as he rubbed his hand slowly along the thick shaft. Without saying a word he reached forward and unzipped my leggings again, grasped the vibrator from my cunt and pulled slowly. I felt my lips gape open, the Batcommunicator torn from by cuntal cavity. Before I could protest any more he stepped forward and pushed the tip of his evil tool into my body, pushing the air from my lungs with his deep vigorous thrusts. I bounced back at him on my wire harness, feeling his hot meat sliding in and out of my protesting body. I could not take much more of this punishment; my nipples screamed with the pressure as they swelled under the restraining pressure of the clips. Finally, I lost control and came, shouting out loud as my body betrayed me. The evil Dr. Strangetrousers had defiled me and I was in no position to protest. I pushed my groin against him, trying of course to push him away from me, but it was too late as my muscles gripped his hot shaft and milked his steaming sperm, thrust deep into my tight chasm. I hung, breathless, as he withdrew from my spent body. The warm deposits ran instantly down the inside of my left thigh, cooling rapidly as they descended toward my knee. The things we superheroes have to endure in our fight for law and order, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Visit the Lair of The Fanged One. http://pages.whowhere.lycos.com/arts/paulinusfang/index.html -- If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments are their only payment. Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | ASSM Archive site +-----------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | | --- | +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | This newsgroup is moderated by ASSTR, an entity supported by donations. | | If you enjoy this newsgroup, please consider making a donation to help | | Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository keep providing this free service for you.| | Donations: | \_________________________________________________________________________/