Most Eligible Bachelor (Patreon)

The ceremony for Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor ran long and afterward, Dick felt obliged to go to the afterparty. Bruce would be mad, but Dick thought he was just sour about his graying head of hair losing out to Dick’s sense of style. For the first time in a long time, Bruce was not the reigning king. It was bittersweet. Bruce, of course, didn’t really care about that sort of thing, but it was still a reminder that Bruce was getting old… or at least that the world was changing as it always did, the vogue falling out of fashion and new things getting their fifteen minutes of fame.

Dick was single, keeping up the act of a trust-fund playboy, and sure, enjoying himself a little. If an emergency came up, he’d duck out and do the Nightwing thing. But as long as he was maintaining his cover, he felt obliged to party some, hook up with one of the supermodels, and otherwise act like Gotham’s A-number-one bachelor.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up in a cell. I could not have partied that hard, Dick thought, before realizing this wasn’t a prison even the chronically underfunded GCPD would run. For one thing, his hands were tied behind his back. For another, he was in someone’s… basement? One half of the room was sectioned off by iron bars. The other one held the stairs, natch. And as he collected his thoughts and realized he’d been dosed, the basement door opened. A woman strolled down the stairs, her dress followed by a flowing train that rustled after her bare feet.

Dick took a long look at the sexy redhead that had just entered his prison. She was wearing a dark, floor-length dress that molded itself to her luscious figure. He could see she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples pressed against the material, hard and protruding to match the size and firmness of her breasts. Despite the circumstances, he felt a warmth in his crotch. He recognized her, but he doubted Dick Grayson—Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor—would. So he went all Matches Malone on it.

“Oh shit… shit, you’re Poison Ivy! What’re you doing here? What am I doing here?”

“You mean Harley didn’t tell you?” The woman tsked, shaking her long hair. “Typical.”

Ivy went to a nearby lab table. She picked up a clipboard—Dick seemed to recall a dream about someone tending to him and marking marks on that paper—and went over it. “Still a little groggy, I see. We’ve been keeping you dosed with anesthesia while we move you around. Your head will clear soon enough.”

Even across the room he could smell her perfume, and he felt a little dizzy. He was glad he was hunched over so that she could not see the condition of his cock.

“So, wait, you’re holding me hostage?”

“Oh, we’re quick,” Ivy taunted. She set down the clipboard and began mixing chemicals together from the various beakers and vials on the table “Yes, but not for ransom. See, being Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor makes you quite influential. Wealthy and powerful. Once I make you my slave, you’ll be an important voice against deforestation.”

“De-for-what-now?” Okay, that might’ve been playing it too dumb.

“Don’t worry about it. All you have to worry about is doing exactly as I say.”

She finished the chemical she was mixing, stirring it in a bowl over a Bunsen burner, then picked up a syringe and filled it with the fluid. Dick could see that it was a different color than it had been when she’d mixed it. That couldn’t be good.

“And with this, you won’t worry about anything else…”

She took a step toward him, her verdant green dress practically glimmering as it came into the light, but all he had eyes for was the dripping needle of the syringe as she held it up, the point long and glinting.

Then Ivy stepped on the hem of her dress and tripped, landing flat on her face on the floor.

Dick winced. That looked painful. Then she staggered up and he winced again. The needle was impaled in her shoulder, the plunger depressed by the impact—all of the solution was gone.

“Oh… oh, goddess…” Ivy moaned, staring at the syringe. She ripped it away and tossed it aside, returning her attention to the mark it had left in her creamy green skin with ripening curiosity. “Oh… oh… ohhhhhh…”

“Ivy?” Dick called, biting his lip in concern. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly. Just answering him felt so… good! “Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Could you… untie me?” he tried.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, taking a few steps toward him before she stopped herself. She asked the question with genuine confusion.

“I just thought it’d be nice—“

“It would be nice,” Ivy said, taking another step toward him, then looking as if she’d walked into a room and forgotten why she’d come in.

Dick had no idea what the hell was going on, but the closer Ivy got, the better. Especially with that perfume she was wearing…

“Don’t you want to untie me?”

Ivy spoke in a daze. “I mean, sure, of course I would, but—“

“It just seems wrong to keep me tied up, doesn’t it?”

Ivy got a proud look in her eyes. She wouldn’t submit to him! She wouldn’t be humiliated by him!

Only… was it wrong? “Yes… yes, it does…”

“C’mon, untie me. You know you want to. I bet you’ll feel much better about yourself once you do.”

On some level, she knew she had to get away, had to leave until the formula wore off. But his voice was so lovely, and the more he told her what to do, the better it felt…

She hurriedly went to him, unlocking and throwing open the door to his cell, then bending over his restrained body to reach behind his back and undo the knot tying his hands. Doing so brought an unequaled view of her cleavage swimming into Dick’s face, utterly without reservation on her part. Dick stared down at her breasts, practically bare from this angle, watching how they shifted around in the loose bodice of the dress, jiggled with the tight caress of her brassiere.

He stared down headily at her pale green cleavage—she leaned down further, as if to better display it, and it was like they were completely uncovered. He saw her nipples scrunched against the inside of her bra, the chlorophyll-green veins that ran finely over the skin of her teats, their heft as they jostled with sluggish mass in soft response to every movement of her arms in untying him. They were real, soft and full, only kept from buoyant jiggling by Ivy breathing very carefully. And he was so absorbed, both by the thought of her naked and the sight of her clothed, that he barely even unnoticed his hands were free.

“Is there anything else you would like?” Ivy asked, her voice breathlessly eager to please. She pulled back, just enough to stare into his eyes, and she seemed to beg to be used. Then she shook it off, again seeming confused, like she was trying to think of a word and it was on the tip of her tongue…

Dick was no dummy. Even at a time like this, he was smart enough to wonder if it was a trick. Maybe Ivy had set this whole thing up as a trap, to prove he was some sexist pig so she could justify killing him. She’d play along, but the moment he said anything demeaning… anything fun… she’d kill him.

Then again, a chance at that body might just be worth the risk.

He knew that was her natural pheromones talking, but then, she’d been intending to absolutely Manchurian Candidate him. Turnabout seemed like fair play…

“Ivy,” he said, “look at me. How do I look?”

Ivy stepped back and looked at him. “Like a male,” she said, her voice tinged with disdain. Then she bit her lip, gnawing at it as if lost in thought.

She still seemed attentive to him, as if waiting for orders. “Look closer,” Dick ordered her. “Don’t you think I look… nice?”

He’d been dressed in clean clothes by Harley during a groggy transportation—they were perhaps a size too small, fitting his lithe body, but clinging to the tight, smooth muscles, pulled taut over the plates of his abs and only veiling the thick cock going down the leg of his trousers. He had a swimmer’s body, his tousled hair and sinewy arms only adding to the impression of fitness, of strength. He no longer seemed defenseless to her anymore. He seemed powerful. Formidable.

Dick didn’t think she could fake the level of interest in her appraisal of him. The way she looked at him—like a screaming Beatles fan at a concert. Like a bride who’d waited years for her husband to come home from the war. She was desperately, overwhelmingly attuned to his happiness. “That stuff… it makes you really suggestible, doesn’t it?”

Ivy nodded haplessly.

“And I’m the only one here.” Again she nodded. She thought his cock was twitching in his pants. “Stand up,” he commanded her. “Then turn around for me.”

She felt like getting up and walking away, but that thought filled her with dread, and the thought of making him happy—no matter what lengths she had to go to—was intoxicating. She wanted to grin just with the idea of serving him, though she kept thinking how wrong it was, how awful.

Dick found himself liking the sight of Ivy immediately reconsidering, weakening. “Hurry up, lady. I’m a busy man. I don’t have all day. You don’t want to waste my time, do you?”

“But I’m a lesbian…” Ivy said weakly.

She felt a little shy when she stood up for her captive. The feeling struck her with sharp dissonance. Her! Shy! From a mere man! She should be furious, she should be livid over the idea of him compelling her…

She did a turn for him. He tilted his head, indicating for her to do it again. She did, slower this time, arching her back to show off her ass. She liked the feel of Dick’s eyes on it.

“Sit down,” he told her. “You’ve got a nice ass. Maybe we could do something with that. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’ve always been curious about what it would be like with a man…”

Ivy started to shake her head, but the motion was like lifting up five hundred pounds, holding them in place. Her movement soon became sluggish, slowed to a stop. The injection was dulling her senses, coating her thoughts in cotton.

“You want to find out,” Dick said, and he could see Ivy’s face start to agree with him, a flicker of interest in her eyes, a secret smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve watched porn, imagining it was you in those scenes, getting fucked. You’ve touched yourself, imagining it was a man, used dildos, used your whole fist, but you know it’s not the real thing. That it’s not as good.“

“No, I, I…” Ivy crossed her legs. She wasn’t even straight! She didn’t at all like the idea of a big, hard, throbbing cock…

“Ever since you first saw me, you’ve wondered about my cock, you’ve wondered how it would feel. Haven’t you been thinking about it, Ivy? Don’t you want to see my cock?”

“Yes!” Ivy said, and it was like taking a breath after being underwater. “What can I—please, what can I do to get you to show me your cock? Can’t I see it? Can’t I?”

“I want to see you naked,” he said.

Inside, Ivy’s self-respect screamed for her to leave. Dick could see the indecision in her eyes. If she didn’t leave right now, she’d give into him! She’d prostrate herself before him, whore herself to him! She’d see his huge, powerful, monstrous…

“Just show me!” Ivy insisted stubbornly. “Please show me—“

“You first,” Dick said. “You want to show me your body, you hate having clothes on, they hide your beauty. Don’t you like being naked?”

“Yes sir,” she answered automatically.

“Take off your clothes,” he commanded, licking his lips in anticipation.

Ivy’s heart pounded as she stood up. She knew it would not stop with just her taking her clothes off. This punk kid wanted more than just to see her naked. He was after her body. Ivy wondered how far she would be willing to go. Would it be too late to change her mind after she took her clothes off? No. She’d just get a look at his cock, then she’d leave.

She needed to see his cock. She needed it so bad…