Date: Sun, 8 Mar 2020 16:14:42 -0400
From: mr.evan.andrews@gmail.com
Subject: Robin Gets Cat Scratch Fever Chapter 2

Robing Gets Cat Scrath Fever Chapter Two
By Evan Andrews

The following story is a work of fan fiction. All characters depicted in it
belong to and are trademarked and copyrighted by DC Comics and/or its
subsidiaries. I am not related to the company and make no claim of
ownership over the characters. The story depicts males in sexual
situations, mostly with other males. If that offends you, if you are
underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading
now. Thank you.

The story is set in the New Teen Titans era, shortly before Dick Grayson
becomes Nightwing in a continuity long since superseded.

If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please help keep Nifty
going by contributing at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Chapter Two:
Welcome to the Cat House

The Siamese twins showed unexpected expertise in taking command of Robin's
body once he was in the van. Manx claimed the driver's seat, Sphinx
shotgun. Robin was surprised that Catwoman and Russian Blue climbed into
the back with him and the twins. There was something wrong about this whole
caper, and he wasn't sure what. But his wondering was relegated to second
place when Russian Blue dropped onto his back and the twins put cuffs on
his wrists. These cuffs were attached those to leather bands they buckled
around his muscular thighs, and they kept him from using his hands for
anything. A blindfold was forced over his head and rubber ball gag into his
mouth. A few blocks later, the van stopped and the side door opened.

"I'll see you boys back at the real lair," Catwoman said, stressing the
`real' for Robin's benefit.

She had played the Dynamic Duo and wanted him to know she had, and that
she'd won this encounter.

"Blue, you're with me."

The Siamese twins took over from Russian Blue sitting on Robin's body, to
keep him from thrashing around. The door slid shut again, and the van took
off. Manx was driving carefully, like any law-abiding citizen in fact. They
were playing this abduction smart, Robin realized. They weren't giving
Gotham's Finest the least reason to pull them over which was also why he
was immobilized and gagged. They had made it impossible for him to
telegraph any hint that the van held a most dainty cargo. Helpless as he
was, Robin expected to be man-handled, but again Catwoman's henchmen
surprised him. Other than binding him, they kept their paws to
themselves. He didn't realize that Catwoman had claimed him as her own Boy
Toy Wonder and that any minion that laid a hand on him would end up
"fixed".

Since he was no longer fighting to keep himself upright, Robin was now able
to apply his highly trained senses.

"Left," he thought, "We're turning left and accelerating to 35 mph."

He counted and figured out how long they held that course before they
changed direction again. Other pertinent details like the smell of the sea
and the sound of kids in a playground added to the picture, and under
normal circumstances he would have had a good idea where he'd been
taken. But whatever had been on Catwoman's claws had completely ballocksed
that up. He could still analyze the situation like nobody's business, but
nothing he noticed or deduced downloaded into his long term memory. He
couldn't even remember what they'd been doing before that last turn (a
traffic circle he thought, but he wasn't certain about that 30 seconds
later). It was infuriating, and worse than that, his balls were working
overtime for some reason, distracting him even further. The tight grasp of
spandex on his scrotum was encouraging the production of a fine reserve of
semen, and his cock, realizing that there was cum to fire off, was at
slightly more than half mast and getting harder. Apparently it liked the
constrictive grasp of his trunks as well. He wondered if the toxin on the
claws held some aphrodisiac qualities or if a suppressed and previously
unrecognized penchant for being overpowered and tied up was kicking
in. He'd never felt that before, or at least not this strongly. Being
sidekick to a major superhero involved a lot of getting abducted and tied
up. Even if he had felt anything like this, though, it was nothing he could
admit to Batman, nor confide to Alfred or Wonder Girl, nor share with
Speedy, and never ever could he mention it to Starfire. He stuffed the
pleasure he was experiencing away in a dark corner of his mind and fought
to ignore it as it begged to be let out.

The van finally came to a stop, jarring Robin out of his reverie. He had no
idea where he was or even how long they'd been driving. Hell, for all he
knew he might even be back at the warehouse where they'd captured him. The
back door of the van opened, and henchmen hands hauled him out onto the
cold concrete floor of a loading dock. The blindfold and gag, now
superfluous, were both removed, and Robin found himself simultaneously
blinking and working the stiffness out of his jaw.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"Your new home," said Manx, "And now we'll get you settled in."

"Beg pardon, sir," one of the minor henchmen (British Shorthair) said, "But
she says she wants him in her boudoir ASAP."

"She's the boss," Manx said, "Okay, boy, after we get you ready then you
have a hot date like you won't believe."

They hauled Robin to his feet and, as his senses reeled again, walked the
epitome of sexy sidekick, tented trunks and all, off into Catwoman's
criminal HQ. Under normal circumstance he'd have put up a fight, but given
his inability to balance, let alone focus, it was all he could do to
struggle against his cock's attempt to find a way out of his confining
green trunks—a struggle he was not sure he'd win in the long run. He
stumbled down what felt like miles of ill-lit corridors, past closed door
after closed door. He heard the grumble of machinery behind several and,
intriguingly, at one door (labeled `Stable') the sound of a man moaning in
ecstasy. It made no sense. Finally they stopped at a door labeled
`Grooming' which Sphinx opened. The twins pushed on Robin's shoulders, and
he stumbled inside to fall flat on his face.

Robin struggled to lift his head. It was a weird room he found himself
in. Not a prison, though three empty free-standing cages stood close to the
back wall (but not up against it). The cages had nothing in them, n;ot even
a pot to piss in, and they were large enough to stand in, nothing
more. They were for temporary holding, Robin deduced, not long-term
incarceration. The rest of the room was a bizarre mixture of kinky
gentleman's dressing room and professional bondage lab. One wardrobe held a
wide selection of provocative costumes and had a full-length mirror so the
person dressed up could appreciate himself. More leather clothing than
Robin had ever imagined hung in a second wardrobe. There were harnesses,
jocks, boots, gloves, braces, hats, and masks with and without matching
gags in another wardrobe. A third was the same sort of stuff but in tight
latex.

Robin's cock leapt when he thought about what that gear would feel like
gripping his sex. In the middle of the room, a massage table and barber
chair, complete with stirrups, grabbed his attention. And beyond that he
saw a walk-in shower with room for several men. The scene was made complete
by the presence of two more hunky henchmen, Persian and Turkish Van
according to their tank-tops. If your dog's groomer were a kink master on
the side, he'd look exactly like these two. Their calf-high boots, latex
trunks much like Robin's own, the aforementioned tank-tops, and long latex
gloves riveted Robin's attention.

"She says she wants him ASAP," Manx said, "But don't cut too many
corners. She still has her standards."

"Right," Persian said, "Put him on the table. We'll take it from there."

The henchmen lifted Robin and lay him face down on the massage table before
withdrawing. The groomers then took up positions on either side of the Boy
Wonder and got to work. First they removed the cuffs keeping his hands from
trying anything clever. He was clearly deep in the drug by now and wasn't
going to give them any trouble. They pulled off his boots and spent a few
minutes admiring his fine legs and running their hands up and down their
length from his feet up to where his trunks began. When they came up the
inside of this thighs, though, he almost flopped off the table. The
groomers laughed at his ticklishness, and then Turkish Van began to
unfasted the Boy Wonder's canary-yellow cape. His fingers brushed against
Robin's throat which set off second a cascade of overwhelming feelings.

"Ah!" Robin cried out as he thrashed under their ministrations.

Whatever was coursing through Robin's blood not only kept him from
resisting their man-handling, it made him enjoy it more than was
decent. Then he felt a hand on his ass.

"Bast, how I wish now I hadn't pissed Her Nibs off and gotten myself
fixed," Persian said, "An ass like this begs for a good..."

"Hey, even fixed we should still be able to have some fun," Van reminded
him, "But first things first. He'll be coming back this way in good time."

Reaching underneath Robin's torso, they grabbed hold of his vest and pulled
apart the last of the fastenings before slipping it off him. The feel of
cold metal against his hard nipples made the Boy Wonder shudder a third
time.

"None of that now," Van said, and with that the pair of groomers flipped
the stud-muffin over onto his back.

"Oh, yeah," Persian said, "She got him good."

The henchman's fingers trace the scratches on Robin left pec, casually
brushing past the hard nipple.

"Oh!" Robin moaned.

He'd never realized he could be turned on by such a thing.

"I'd say so," Van snickered as he ran his fingers along the raging hard-on
that pressed against the Boy Wonder's trunks. "Look at that monster! Nine
inches at least! I'm surprised it hasn't torn through the fabric."

"Mmm," Persian hummed with approval, "And it's so sad about being caged up
that it's crying. Look at that pre-cum stain."

"Well, monsters have to hang together," Van said, "We can't in good
conscience leave his monster trapped like that."

They grabbed the waist of Robin's tight green trunks and peeled them down
over the muscular legs they had previously been appreciating. His cock
sprang out hard and proud.

 "Look at that!" Persian, "You were right about the nine inches."

"Bast, she's going have herself some fun with this one," Van opined.

"This one?" Robin said.

Did Catwoman have more men captive in her dungeons? Then he remembered the
ecstatic groan from the one room, the Stable. Apparently she did. What were
her evil plans for him? For them?

"Oh, don't you worry about that—at least not yet," said Van.

Then the groomers were on him again, massaging his body, oiling him up with
some unguent. It made him feel warm all over, not fever warm but
professional rub-down warm. While the groomers left to get the next
apparatus ready Robin lay basking.

"Uppsy daisey, stud boy," Persian said as the now returned groomers lifted
the naked Robin off the table.

They supported him over to the barber chair. Clippers appeared and the
henchmen trimmed the hero's hair to something stylish but with a bad boy
feel to it. Moving down his body they trimmed his pubic bush so close that
it was almost shaved. If anything it made the Boy Wonder's cock look even
larger. Finally they lathered him up and shaved his underarms and
chest--even his treasure trail.

"What about this stubble?" Persian asked as he ran a hand over Robin's jaw.

"I think she likes beards," Van said.

"Today she likes beards," Persian replied, and Van laughed.

"Today," Van conceded, "Anyway if she wants him smooth as a baby's bottom
all over she can tell us. And speaking of baby's bottoms."

They twisted Robin around so that he was kneeling bent over on the chair
instead of sitting and his butt was at the proper height for the groomers
to attend to it. Persian ran a finger through the sidekick's ass crack.

"This we've definitely got to shave," the groomer said.

Van nodded and they proceeded to lather Robin's crack up and apply the
razors to scrape away all the hair he had growing there. Robin writhed
erotically under their touch, and since for the first time since his
capture his cock was free, he tried to see if he could get it to make any
contact with the henchmen's hands.

"No," Van said, and he slapped the Boy Wonder's ass, "Bad Robin. Bad bad
Robin. "

"He can't help it, Van," Persian said, "You saw the scratches."

"Please, please scratch me," Robin begged, and he waggled his butt.

"No!" Van said, "I don't care if she marked him or not. He's not in charge,
and he's got to learn that pronto. After all, it'd never do to rob her of
her treat."

Once Robin was properly groomed, they lifted him out of chair and helped
him to shower. Inside the tiled sanctum, a sawhorse commanded center
stage. Carefully, they draped Robin over it and left him hanging there,
naked and with his legs spread, as they went and got the apparatus
necessary for the next part of his cleansing. The Boy Wonder hung,
unresisting, until he felt a metallic nozzle touch his anal sphincter.

"What the fuck?!" he cried, but then he gave a groan.

A virgin's `Ah!' escaped him as the nozzle slid just inside him. Even this
violation he couldn't fight off, and the next moment when the water started
to flow he didn't want to. The mounting pressure of the water in his guts
was both exciting and excruciating. Robin couldn't decide which was
dominant. And it didn't matter because his cock loved it. He looked up to
thank the groomers and saw that while he filled up they had stripped to
just their bulging latex trunks. In a moment he knew why. When he felt he
was a full as he could be, Persian removed the nozzle.

"Let it all out, boy toy," the henchman ordered.

Robin's guts exploded, and a jet of smelly brown water emerged. They hosed
him off and chased the shit-water down the drain before repeating the
cleansing. Then again and again until the sidekick's guts ran clean.

"Good boy," Van said.

He held Robin upright while Persian removed sawhorse. The shower came on
and the groomers joined their charge under the stream. They grabbed hold of
soap and began to wash his hair and body. The feel of soapy hands running
over his skin was striking a chord with Robin's newly sensitized hormones.

"Oh, fuck!" he cried, "Yeah, just like that! Right there! Yeah, I'm
gonna..."

And then he was hit with a stream of ice cold water.

"What did we tell you, boy," Van growled, "No cumming! You save that for
her."

"Oh god," Robin was desperate, "I can't. I mean I have to..."

Gloved hands grabbed his low-hanging nuts and squeezed hard.

"Ow!" Robin cried, "That hurts!"

"That's right. It does, and let me tell you that things will hurt worse if
you don't get with the program NOW! No Cumming! Got it?"

Robin nodded, tears streaming from his eyes. Consummate professionals that
they were, the groomers finished Robin's shower quickly after that and
carefully toweled him off before strapping him spread-eagled to a `drying
rack'. Fans were turned on him, and the groomers wandered off to the
wardrobes. Even the gentle touch of the air from the fans was enough to
keep Robin stewing. The touch was the most seductive thing yet, and Robin's
cock was reading him the Riot Act over certain reasonable requests it had
made, none of which he was in any position to address.

The Siamese twins returned and helped the groomers get Robin properly
`dressed' for his meeting with Catwoman. Siamese One, snickering, fastened
a belled collar around the hapless hero's neck. Then they released him from
the drying rack and helped him into the provocative garment the groomers
had chosen for him—a kinky version of the green trunks that were part of
his usual costume. In the back of these new trunks, where the fabric
usually hugged his firm ass, there was a hole that allowed access to his
now-cleaned-out asshole. A stray finger slid up the crack of his ass,
making him shudder again.

"Dammit, Siamese Two," Persian chided, "If we aren't allowed to, neither
are you!"

In the front, another strategic hole let the Boy Wonder's not-so-boy-like
cock and balls hang out. Well, the word `hang' was only appropriate to his
cum-heavy balls in their dangling sack. An elastic ring around the hole
functioned as a cock-ring, so Robin's normally dusky pink staff, rigid as
hell and already weeping pre-cum, was rapidly taking on purple tints. It
was erotic as all fuck.

"He's all ready for her," Van said at last, "Get him out of here, and have
someone bring in the others.

Robin was cock-addled, wondering if he actually going to be called on to
fuck someone? Catwoman maybe? So he didn't hear Van's last comment. Even if
he had, it wouldn't have meant a damn thing to him. Robin needed to cum and
needed to cum badly. Nothing else mattered. Manx opened the door and the
Siamese twins escorted their captive out into the corridor.

"So long, boy toy," Persian hooted after him, "Don't do anything I wouldn't
do!"