Batman: Dark Romance 4

For story with illustrations, see PDF below.

The next time Batman slept. Ivy went back to brain washing him, putting the finishing touches on his new personality as Hailey, the bad, bad girl who loved The Joker. 

“I did send you off to a private boarding school,” the voice of Batman’s mother said. “I told you it was so you would learn some discipline.” She laughed as she said the last bit.

“But it was really just to get rid of me,” Batman answered.

“Yes. You were annoying, and you were in the way. I wanted to party, bring men home. Having a bratty daughter hanging around was cramping my style.”

“I was glad to get away from you and from Alfred.” Batman hissed, slitting his eyes. It was true. He and mother dearest hated each other, and he wanted to get away from her as much as she wanted to get away from him. “Half those losers you brought home stared at my tits.”

“What’d you expect when you walked around the house half naked?" Mom’s voice said, as Batman remembered these strange, drunk men who came to the house, who looked him over, lusted after him. He smiled remembering it, because he was prettier than his mother. It was just another reason for her to hate him.

Saint Pentitence Academy for Young Ladies had been every girls’ dream school. Every girl, that is, except for him. It looked like a medieval monastery, with ancient stone buildings, the walls crawling with ivy. Meticulous grounds. The nuns had been cruel and demanding, and the curriculum something absurd from a 19th century finishing school: music, poetry, comportment, proper manners, ballet and painting. Everything had been designed to turn young ladies into the perfect companions for their future husbands, pretty little things they could show off at parties along with their cars, their expensive watches.

Batman had gritted his teeth and endured the humiliation and pain of spending hours in pointe shoes, but he hadn’t learned discipline at all. He’d learned to fake it and within his first semester he’d found the other rebellious girls and become the leader of a girl gang, which he’d nicknamed The Jokerettes.

They smoke, drank, stole, snuck off and met up with boys, roughians from the local town. Batman sighed now as he remembered how much fun it had been to kiss a boy, to pull up his top and let a boy put his rough, calloused hands on Batman’s breasts. He’d pulled his panties down, let them stretch between his knees, and Frankie, he couldn’t remember the boy’s last name, had slipped his fingers between Batman’s legs and dipped them in for a fish and finger pie. Batman had sighed, his body aching for more as he’d felt the fingers penetrate him. Frankie had pulled his fingers out, smelled them, tasted them, and he’d wanted more, but Batman had pushed him off, pulled his panties up.

“Come on, don’t be a fraidy cat,’ Frankie had said, his eyes hard and angry with desire.

That look had sent chills through Batman’s soft little body, had filled him with desire, but he’d only smiled, enjoying the feeling of power he had as a beautiful female, and he’d said, “I’m saving myself.”

“I thought you were cool,” Frankie said, spitting on the ground. For a moment, Batman thought the boy might try and force himself on her, and he looked like he might, but then he backed off. “Fine.”

He knew Batman was the Queen Bee, that if he made her mad he would lose his chance with any of the girls. He stalked away, pushing down the bulge in his pants. Out in the darkness, Batman could hear the other girls giggling, moaning, having fun.

“You love playing with boys, don’t you?” His mother said.

“Boys are fun,” Batman admitted, giggling. He’d been boy crazy then, just like a lot of girls, so even though Frankie had left him there for a bit aching with need, he’d just waited until another boy came along, slipping up next to him, kissing him. It was a good kiss, better than most of these awkward boys could manage, and the next time they kissed their tongues met, and Batman grabbed the boy’s hand and planted it on his breast, breaking off the kiss just for a second to whisper, “pinch my nipple. Hard.”

Boys were fun, but they were really just toys, playthings, something for a girl to amuse herself with when she was bored. Batman wanted more. He was saving himself for a certain special man. A real man. He was saving himself for The Joker.

After he’d graduated from high school, he’d come home and spent a few weeks lying by the pool, smoking, drinking, wondering what to do with his life. Mother Dearest had come out one day and sat down next to him, explaining her oh so amazing plans for his future. “I talked to the dean at Harvard,” she said. “It’s all arranged. You’re in for the fall.”

“Harvard?” Batman had sneered, knowing it would be all the same bratty rich kids he’d grown up with. “I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to go to college. I’m sick of school.”

You need to go to college. It’s the best place for you to find a husband,” Mom had said.

“Omigod! I don’t want husband.”

“You say that now, but in a few years you’ll change your mind. You’ll want a good man. Every girl does.”

“I’m not like other girls,’ Batman had said. His mother didn’t know him at all. She didn’t understand him. How could he think he wanted to end up like her and her vapid friends? She had done nothing with her life, just married some guy and become his shadow, a vessel to carry his baby. Batman would not be that kind of woman. Never.

“You’re going to college, young lady, or I’ll disown you. You’ve been pampered your whole life. You have no idea how hard life is out there for regular people.”

“And you do?”

His mother’s threats had settled it. That night Batman ran away, not far, just to Gotham city. Had he been scared? Yes. Terrified, but also more excited than he’d ever been in his whole life. He spent a night on the street, then talking to some other runaways he’d met on the street, he heard about an abandoned building where there were a bunch of empty apartments people were claiming. He found one, reveling in the cracked walls, sagging floor, broken windows. It looked like the kind of place The Joker might live.

Looking around, Batman had done a little dance, clapping and giggling. This was it. This was his new life, and it was perfect. The next step of his plan was to meet The Joker, so he arranged for a visit with the legend, who was currently locked up in Arkham Asylum. The Wayne name had been enough to get him in. Sometimes it was good to be a rich girl, even if for the time being he was flat out broke.

He'd lied to the Arkham people, telling them he was writing a report on supervillains for school, so he needed to look the part. He also wanted to impress The Joker, so he decided to break into a boutique and steal the outfit he wanted. He’d shoplifted plenty, lots of girls did, but that just seemed so juvenile and petty. This would be a true caper, and he’d broken in late at night, stolen the clothes, been trashing the place for fun, tearing up delicate blouses and dresses, twirling, throwing the shredded fabric around, when he’d seen the red and blue flashing lights of the police car outside.

He ran out the back door, the clothes he wanted bundled in his arms, and there had been a cop at the end of the alley with a flashlight. “Freeze!” He’d shouted, but Batman just laughed and laughed, running wildly through the streets, bobbing and weaving until he’d found himself down by the river, panting, laughing, no cops in sight.

The river reeked of rotting fish, pollution, and a fat, full moon hung heavy in the sky, bathing everything in cold, silvery light. “I got away,” Batman had whispered, feeling high, like he’d gotten stoned or something. “I got away!” He shouted at the moon.

It was so exciting, so fun. He was a bad girl, and he wanted more, bigger, better. More than anything, though, he wanted a man to share his new life.

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Batman had spent two hours putting on his makeup, taking it off, putting it on again. He needed to be perfect for The Joker. It had been a few years since he’d seen his hero—The Joker had not been around his boarding school as far as Batman knew, but then, again, he hadn’t needed The Joker. He’d been Queen Bitch of that Place.

I wonder if he’ll remember me? Batman wondered as he waited for The Joker in the visiting room. He kept fidgeting with his skirt, his blouse, pushing his boobs up. He felt like a total dork; he’d dressed all bit prim and proper, but he was sure The Joker would know why he looked like such a nerd. It was all just cover so the Arkham people wouldn’t suspect anything.

Finally, he heard the footsteps, a metal key grating in the lock. The door swung open with a creak, and The Joker stood there. He met Batman’s eyes, and a smile spread across his face. “Well, hello,” he said, and his eyes had taken on that same hard, hungry look Batman had seen in the eyes of so many boys and men. It was the look of desire.

Batman kept his composure, not wanting the guards to see how turned on he was, but he squeezed his legs together and something inside him clenched in the most delightful manner. “Mr. White,” he said, adjusting his glasses, using a detached, clinical tone.

The guard paused. “I’ll be right outside,” he said to The Joker. “Don’t try anything.” Then, he looked at Batman. “You sure you want to be alone with this freak?”

“It’s essential for my research,” Batman said. “Thank you, officer.”

The door closed. Batman arched his back, thrusting his breasts forward, crossed his legs, offering up a flash of panties, then favored The Joker with his prettiest smile.

The Joker gave Batman the once over, letting his eyes linger on Batman’s breasts. Batman’s whole body tingled, and he gave his shoulders a flirty little shake.

Somewhere trapped deep in the subconscious mind of Hailey, the real Batman, Bruce Wayne, howled with rage. It made him sick the way he was acting, displaying his body to a sicko like The Joker, the way Ivy was making him feel, reprogramming him, but he was powerless, all he could do was watch as these new memories infiltrated his mind, as the girl they wanted to make of him took over. Most horrifying to him was the fact that he felt what she felt—he felt the feminine heat rising within her as The Joker drank in her curves, he felt the longing to offer himself to The Joker, he felt sexy. He felt like a woman in love, and he hated it.

“My, my, have you grown,” The Joker said. Then, he leaned forward and whispered, “they’ll be listening.”

Batman smiled. “I pulled a few strings. This conversation is private.”

The stared into each other’s eyes, got lost in each other’s eyes. “I want to be your girl,” Batman confessed. He felt vulnerable. He was so young, so innocent. The Joker was so everything. Was he a fool to think such an amazing man might be interested in him?

“You do?” The Joker said. “Well, you need to prove yourself to me, Hailey. You need to show me you’re worthy of being my girl.”

“I stole these clothes,” Batman said, eager, hoping to impress his hero. “I broke into a boutique and stole them.” The Joker just shrugged, unimpressed. “Then, I trashed the place for no reason. Just because—well, because it’s fun to ruin pretty things.”

Now, The Joker grinned. “I knew there was something special about you.” He crossed his arms behind his head and regarded Batman with what seemed like new respect. “You’re insane.”

“No, I’m—”

“I like insane.”

“Oh.” Batman giggled. Tugged on an earring. ‘I guess I am crazy. My mother is always telling me that.”

“Wanna be my girl?” The Joker said. “I just need you to do one thing.”

“What?” Batman said. “I’ll do anything.”

“Come here and sit on my lap.”

Batman went over and sat on The Joker’s lap, immediately feeling the hard, throbbing of The Joker’s member pressing into his soft backside. He giggled, as The Joker threw his arms possessively around Batman’s waist, pulled him in and began to whisper in his ear, his hot breath making Batman blush.

No, Batman moaned inside as the feeling of The Joker’s hard on made him feel so wet, so hot, so eager to be taken, penetrated He wanted The Joker inside him. He wanted to be The Joker’s girl. “No,” he moaned. No. But the word meant nothing. It was a lie.