Tam-Rex vs Batman (The Boxing Ring)
Batman fights the young warrior, Tam-Rex
So here they all are in the ring at Madison Square Garden this fateful evening. In one corner, Batman, the caped superhero defender of the free world, attended by his current lover, Robin.
The caped crusader is wearing his already quite sweaty classic grey uniform that shows his impressive phisical stud muscled forms, he looks invincible and extremly dangerous. Robin, not to be out done, is spectacularly decked out in his green/red outfits. Thebeautiful, muscled dark hairedcrimefighter, Batman, appears to have pulled it together alright, has his stern fight face on.
In the far corner is the mysterious young blond warrior, Tam-Rex, clad only in the skimpiest of leather red thongs. And there also, standing before their ravishing Master, are Slut Boy, clad in a blue loin cloth, and Jungle Slut, clad only in a red, white and blue thong. And, of course, there, standing to one side, is Tam-Rex’s ever attentive top lieutenant, the striking blond warrior Boy, more “modestly” clad than his leather loincloth. Slut Boy and Jungle Slut also sport studded red leather slave collars, the long leashes leading from the collars held lightly in Boy’s left hand, as they each shamelessly suckle one of Tam-Rex’s huge, turgid nipples. Cries of shock and dismay are heard throughout the arena as, for the first time, their once adoring public is seeing, really seeing, what the former Superman and Tarzan have been reduced to during their captivity by the raging blond warrior who now owns their bodies and commands their tattered souls.
The ring announcer makes his appearance, microphone in hand, gravely intones, “Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight we have a special challenge match between these two magnificent fighting men you see here before you. You all know the story by now, so I won’t repeat all the awful details. But suffice it to say that at stake tonight is not only the future freedom of two of our fallen Champions of Justice, but also, perhaps, the very future of the free world as we know it. This attractive, yet evil, young man you see lording over the broken shells of two of our most beloved icons of power and righteousness; and I’m speaking of course of Superman and Tarzan, bless their tortured souls; has threatened to take over our cherished world, as we know it, should he, perish the thought, somehow defeat our Dark Knight hero, in the ring tonight. May we all hope and pray his foolish vow crumbles, as it should, before the iron fists of Justice!”
Climbing off his “soapbox” just a bit, the announcer continues, “There will be no round limit; this fight, by mutual agreement of the two combatants, will end only by KNOCKOUT! Any knockdowns resulting in counts will end at the bell concluding each round, if the 10 count is not reached before then. Furthermore, the three knockdown rule, also by mutual consent of the combatants, is waived for this fight, as is the mandatory eight count rule after a knockdown.”
He clears his voice, dramatically announcing now, “So let me introduce to you in the one corner, wearing the, well barely wearing something fiery red, and with the matching red gloves; he stands 6 foot 3 and a half, and is still growing, weighing in for tonight’s fight at 232 pounds of warrior might and muscle.He is attended tonight by his personal manager, Boy, and is also unfortunately being served by his personal slaves he calls Jungle Slut and Slut Boy. Here is the Terrifying Teen Tyro of Tiburra, TAM… REEEX… Tam-Rex!”
A loud solitary yell from the willowy blond stud, Boy, in Tam-Rex’s corner, and an audible grunt from Jungle Slut as he noisily suckles one of Tam-Rex’s rock hard nipples are the only noises punctuating the eerie silence within the arena.People are sitting on their hands, whispering to one another; nobody knows quite what to make of the strikingly beautiful, stunningly developed, imperious young warrior king; many, most probably, are absolutely terrified of him after hearing, and now seeing, what he has done to Tarzan and Superman.Batman, on the other hand, is at least outwardly a picture of steely calm, locked in, glaring at the impressive blond the other corner and seething the degrading scene in front of him;for his two former heroes, one his friend, the other a former lover of his, shamelessly servicing this young warrior’s god-like body.
Now the announcer’s voice rises even higher in its tenor, its palpable excitement, as he dramatically intones, “And in the other corner, he is wearing his grey lycra suit, with dark blue gloves; he hails from right here in the good old U S of A. He stands 6 foot 5, weighing in at 251 pounds of sleek, steely, muscle; he is attended tonight by his manager, the renowned hero, Robin. Here is the mightiest and skilliest man on the face of the earth, the magnificent, stunningly muscled, living, breathing 8th wonder of the world; he is the Caped Crusader, the much beloved and admired, invincible defender of all that is right and just in this free world of ours; HERE IS BAAAATMAN BATMAN!”
Everyone is on their feet, a crescendo of claps and cheers engulfing the ring. Robin beams, lifts Batman’s one gloved arm up in a salute to the crowd. Batman smiles broadly, soaking in the adulation, turns slowly, waving to his adoring fans, telling himself, ” I am Batman, I AM invincible; I WILL defeat this menace to society and free those pitiful broken creatures; gawwwd how far they’ve fallen, slavishly serving that Fag! It is the right and just thing to do. Only I can save the world as we know it, and I will!” He fixes his gaze finally on the Teen Tyro, who stares back, grabbing the slavishly suckling Jungle Slut by his raven locks while pulling Tarzan’s head back. The enslaved former hero shamelessly laps with his tongue at only air now, grunting as he tries futilely to re-attach to his Master’s sweet nipple. Batman blanches at the sight, and also at the sight of Slut Boy, the former Kal Jor-el, or Superman, on his knees submissively sucking one of the barefoot warrior’s big toes. Tam-Rex continues staring at the grey clad superhero, mouthing the letters, “S L U T”, then the words, “you’re mine” as he stares back at Batman. The Caped Crusader, eyes fixed on his young foe this whole time, shudders. But, despite his revulsion at the scene across the ring, smears of musky pre-cum appear suddenly on his cockhead betraying a strange, forbidden excitement gripping him as he looks at that god-like warrior body with those two familiar, if now wretched looking creatures, wrapped all over it. Robin, standing next to his loving mate, is getting wet too as he stares at the breathtakingly beautiful, almost naked young warrior.
Despite his steely outer countenance, Batman is thinking, “my gawd, I hate to admit it, but the bitch takes your breath away; that hair, that chiseled muscled body, makes Superman’s look soft and ordinary by comparison. And those legs, my gawd, they’re longer and sharp-cut than Robin’s even, and way stronger, sleek muscles upon sleek muscles! Unbelievable legs they are; how would you like to have those babies wrapped around you, boy? Mmmm, gawwwd, what am I thinking? But mmmmm, ohhh, look at that chest, I could chew on those big hard nipples, all day too! Ooooooh, this is making me soooo hot!” Meanwhile, Robin is thinking, “what a god, look at those chest, bigger and iron harder than Batman’s even! After being with Batman all this time, I never thought I’d see someone even more spectacularly developed than he is. But there he is; my word, that young warrior may be a tyrannical faggot, but damn he’s one incredibly hot stud. Gawwd I hope Batman knows what he’s getting into here.”
Batman finally turns away, tells himself, “get a hold of yourself, man, concentrate, you’re Batman; knock the bitch out fast, then you can feast on that incredible warrior body, spoils of victory as they say, heh heh; I’m sure Robin will look the other way just this one time; or most likely the kinky tart would want to join me in feasting on that fabulous body; after I knock him out COLD, lay that beautiful muscled bod out flat on the canvas! Yeah, that’s what we’ll do, knock the bitch out, haul him to the dressing room, then feast away all day and all night on that incredible body!”. He dances in his corner, a sly smile suddenly playing on his lips, shadowboxing, awaiting the bell, trying to stay tuned in on the task at had even while the pre-cum still blows out from his moist manhood. Robin, on the other hand, is unavoidably still staring at the young blond. The notoriously over-sexed hero is hot and horny, and he has barely looked at his older darker companion in all this time. A continuing pre-cum runs down his rock hard cock. Neither seems to notice it.
The bell rings, Batman, comes out aggressively, determined to put the studly Teen Tyro in his rightful place, namely laid out on the canvas. Both Batman and Robin are convinced that: 1) Tam-Rex somehow neutralized Tarzan’s power by the surprise battling and defeating the then Jungle king; and 2) Superman had to have been exposed to, and irreparably weakened by Kryptonite, while being overwhelmed by the young blond in their wrestling match. But the Kryptonite sensors installed everywhere, in the locker rooms, around over and under the ring, and throughout the arena at Robin and Batman’s request, have been silent. There will be no trickery tonight, of that he is certain.
Tam-Rex circles cautiously, gloves tucked up around his head, displaying incredible reaction times and hand speed in parrying Batman’s initial, powered punches. They move into Batman’s corner, Batman still on the attack, Robin, standing a few feet away on the apron, exhorting him, “thatta man, Batman, cut off the ring, make him fight, you got him”. Backed to the corner ropes, Tam-Rex finally comes out of his shell, a quick flicking jab, partially deflected by Batman’s gloves, the blow nevertheless surprising Batman with its quickness, its velocity. It glances seemingly harmlessly across the Capen Crusader’s chin, but suddenly Batman is DOWN!, one leg splaying out before he pitches awkwardly to his knees, Tam-Rex, smirking, crowding him from above, one big muscular thigh pressed to the downed superhero’s shoulder. Ringside fans are on their feet, shocked! Robin grabs the ropes, leaning over into the ring, crying out, “oh no, BATMAN!”. Tam-Rex, is still in the corner, his 6 foot 3 inch warrior bod towering over the taller swarty opponent. He gives Robin a little elbow as the brunette leans over the ropes next to him, snarls, “outta my face, BITCH!” The ring announcer is babbling almost incoherently, “MY GAWD, BATMAN IS DOWN!” But he bounces up to his feet quickly before the ref can move in for a count. He gestures at the canvas beneath his feet, looking a little flustered, stammering, “I’m okay, I slipped”. The ref looks down at a small puddle of sweat on the canvas near Batman’s corner, halts the fight clock, gesturing to the ring attendants, “get a towel, wipe this up”.
Fifteen seconds later, the bout resumes; but Batman looks suddenly confused, wandering back to a neutral corner as Tam-Rex, blinking in surprise, comes out after him. Batman is flashing back to the night dreams in the hotel suite, to his whimpered cry as Robin came to his side. “I’m okay, it’s only a slip”, he mumbles to himself as he draws his gloves up around his head, covering as Tam-Rex,, with a flurry of punches, pounds the grey clad superhero’s bared pecs. Batman still covers in the corner, not fighting back at all, now clinching. The ref moves in to break the clinch, quizzically looking at Batman. He stammers, “I’m okay, it was just a slip, he didn’t hurt me.” “Then fight, gentlemen”, he intones. And fight Tam-Rex does, a dozen rapid-fire blows to the body, now moving upstairs, right hook, left hook, now an uppercut, the hooks finding only Batman’s drawn up blue gloves, but the right uppercut slipping through, to his jaw. Batman takes them all, even the uppercut, stoically, passively, head rocking back only slightly from the hard, uplifting blow. The bell rings, ending round one. Batman trudges to his corner, seemingly unhurt, but dispirited; Tam-Rex giving him a shove, taunting him, “you’re a bum, Batman, a BUM, hear me?”
The grey clad superhero only shudders, sits down on his stool, staring blankly out across the ring, silently mouthing the words still, “it was just a slip, he didn’t hurt me.” Robin towels him off, though Batman has barely worked up a sweat, the only moisture on his whole body, it seems, being in his crotch. Robin notices such, and wipes those muscled legs down accordingly, Batman sighing appreciatively. The small hero hasn’t said a word all this time; but now, as Batman stands up for the 2nd round bell, he snidely remarks, “okay, boy, you had your fun, slip slidin around and playing like a punching bag; now get out there and FIGHT, for gawds sake!” Batman nods his head, fixing liquid blue eyes on his loving companion, quietly answers, “It was just a slip; it rattled me some, but he didn’t even hurt me with any punches”. “I don’t care, dear,” Robin retorts, “it looks bad; take him out this round, don’t fool around out there!” Batman nods again, setting his jaw in a fierce glare across the ring, while a slavishly suckling Jungle Slut is being pried away from Tam-Rex’s slicked down, huge and turgid right nipple as the young blond warrior also stands, awaiting the bell.
And now Batman, snapping out of his first round lethargy, goes on the attack with a vengeance. A powered man possessed, the swarty hero pummels a now strangely passive, almost casual and dis-interested Tam-Rex, through the next two one-sided rounds. Still, punishment from the Caped Crusader’s steely fisted gloves that would have flattened all but the mightiest of criminals, and certainly all other mortal beings, by now, have only wobbled, but not dropped, the scantily clad Teen Tyro, who spends most of rounds two and three clinching often, protecting his youthful face from the most deadly punches, riding out Batman’s powerful body salvos, but rarely offering much of a threat himself. Many in the crowd, the same ones who stayed silent while Batman was doing his own rope-a-dope act in round one, are lustily booing the model good looking warrior for his inactivity. Imperiously, the blond haired amazon blithely ignores the taunts.
Batman is mildly alarmed that he has yet to floor the towering young blond. Despite Batman’s incredible hand speed, Tam-Rex’s long, well muscled arms and super quick reflexes, have managed to protect his head from the most brutal blows launched by the superhero. And even though the warrior’s sculpted body has taken a real pounding from Batman’s fists, Tam-Rex appears to have rock hard abs and an extremely high threshold for bodily pain. So Batman comes out in the fourth round grimly determined to go upstairs more, yet spends most of the time pushing the young blond away after Tam-Rex’s increasingly frequent clinches. By all appearances, laying on the ropes, groping, clinching almost desperately whenever Batman moves in on him, it seems Tam-Rex, after absorbing tremendous punishment through two plus rounds now, is pretty much finished. Indeed, many in the crowd are amazed that he’s even gotten this far against the “invincible” Batman. Robin, watching the one sided match intently from the ring apron in Batman’s corner, has to marvel at Tam-Rex’s incredible bodily endurance and ability to take a punch, breathlessly whispering at one point, ” Gaddds, this bitch is unreal! Batman’s thrown everything but the kitchen sink at him, and still he won’t go down! What’s it gonna take for crying out loud?”
What it will take, apparently, is the inexorable pressure Kara is still applying to a now virtually unresisting Tam-Rex laying on the ropes near rounds end. Batman moves in, feints a left to bring the young warrior’s guard down, then powers into a super charged right aimed up high. Only partially blocked, the punch slams Tam-Rex’s head back with a satisfying smack. He barely stifles a low groan, wobbles sideways, long, stunningly sculpted legs pawing for firm footing on the sweat dampened canvas, then drops swiftly down, clumping hard to his back, legs and arms akimbo. The crowd is on its feet, lustily cheering their hero as Batman, gloved arms raised above his head, heads to a neutral corner, and the count begins over his fallen foe. Tam-Rex appears to be hurting bad, lying motionless until the count reaches 3, before rolling over slowly and pushing to a shaky crouch by 7. But then he somehow staggers up at 9, barely beating the count, then strangely grins broadly at Batman as the ref shakes out his gloves and waves Batman in again. Most think it’s a goofy, woozy smile of a KO’d fighter; Think again, perhaps! As Batman closes for the kill, Tam-Rex, still weaving noticeably, somehow, suddenly, snaps a withering left hook to Batman’s carelessly unguarded jaw that stuns, but doesn’t wobble, Batman at the bell. As they head to their own corners, the blond haired teen amazon sarcastically remarks to Batman, “oops, guess I slipped on a wet spot there; you see, you can’t STOP me, Bat Slut; and it will be YOU on the canvas next time, I promise!”
Speaking of “wet spots”, and Batman and Robin are both scoffing, and fuming, at what they consider Tam-Rex’s arrogant dismissal of his knockdown as a mere slip, the canvas floor has become regularly slicked down with sweat, and perhaps other stuff; so much so that the referee now instructs the ring attendants to wipe the floor down between each round. The two combatants take water and are attended to in their corners, Boy shoving the fawning Wonder Slut and Slut Boy aside to personally administer to his blond charge this round.
Round 5 begins, and Batman goes right to the attack, but somehow he appears to be letting this golden opportunity to finish a wounded foe slip further away with every passing moment. He has set a furious pace, even for him, through the past three rounds in an attempt to knock out the mouthy young warrior. And, in the minds of most, he almost had him late in the 4th. But Tam-Rex has answered the bell, and, frankly, Batman seems somewhat frustrated, and, impossible as it may seem to contemplate, even a bit weary, or maybe just discouraged, as his punches slam with somewhat less than sonic speed into Tam-Rex’s strapping body during a long clinch, initiated by Tam-Rex, of course, midway through the round. Tam-Rex has not only ridden out the expected push by Batman to knock him out early this round, but is decidedly more stable on his feet, and confident looking, than at the end of the previous round. The frustration grows for Batman as the round winds down, and Tam-Rex once again wraps him up in a long clinch along the ropes which the referee, gaping shamelessly at those two, glistening, entwined superbods, pecs at pecs, crotch at crotch seems horribly slow at breaking up. As Batman heads to his corner at the bell, Tam-Rex yells at him, “you’re nuthin, Super Bimbo, hear me, NUTHIN!”
Robin goes to work more earnestly on his clearly discouraged charge between rounds, snorting contemptuously, “that BITCH sure has a loud mouth for one who is getting the crap beat out of him!” Batman, looking, indeed, a bit weary even as he lays arms over the ropes and greedily sucks in and spits out some water, tilts her head up to softly remark to his dark haired companion, “Robin, gawd, I don’t know what it will take to put him down. Maybe it WAS just a slip back then.” “Of course, it was a slip, stud,” Robin responds, “everybody saw your feet sliding on the wet spot.” “No, I meant his slip,” Batman sighs, “back in the fourth.” Robin snorts, “Stud, pull it together; you had him all but knocked out then; slip my ass!” “But he’s still on his feet,” Batman responds; to which Robin concludes, “but you’ll get him this round, my Bat!”. Privately, the young hero is worried though, thinking to himself, “gads, the bitch is hanging in; he’s tough all right, and Batman’s losing focus; but no, it can’t be, he’s Batman’ he’ll pull it together, end this charade this round, I hope!”
Or can it?; be that is, that Tam-Rex can stand in against the full fury of Batman’s skills. He did, after all, humble Kal, with merely his bare hands, and legs, and awesome body! Can he not do the same here? And those long, long arms of the young blond begin to reach a now visibly slowing Batman with quick-fire, hard jabs to the body as the round draws to a close. At the bell, it is Batman this time, looking both weary and worried, who initiates the clinch, holding on as Tam-Rex digs three hard lefts into his side, punches which in the early rounds bounced harmlessly off his iron clad bod, but now, tellingly, are slicing ever deeper into the startlingly yielding flesh of hero.
The 7th round begins soon enough, and a low murmur spreads through the crowd as Batman’s attack wanes precipitously, as he appears almost sluggish at times, most especially when sucked into Tam-Rex’s notorious long clinches against the ropes. The plain fact is, though few, except Batman, himself, and perhaps Robin and Tam-Rex, seem to recognize it, Batman IS losing his focus, and perhaps more alarmingly, his energy, his punches shockingly slowed near rounds end. Meanwhile, more of Tam-Rex’s pesky jabs, and a few harder punches, are finding their way through Batman’s somewhat less than powered defenses.
Near the bell, Batman, laboring badly, but trying to rally against Tam-Rex’s increasingly aggressive counter-attack, feints the right this time, goes upstairs with the left hook; but Tam-Rex takes the ponderous, horribly slowed, punch on the side of the face, and dances away on still sturdy legs, taunting, “is that all ya got, Super Bimbo?”. Batman comes at him again, wildly, but is “rocked” by a countering left to the jaw and backed to the ropes seconds before time, shaking his head in dismay as resurgent Tam-Rex lays the leather to his fabulous stud bod, the punches slicing ever deeper into Batman’s dangerously softening body.The final punch, coming a split second after the bell clangs, and sinking half a fist deep into his low gut, even draws an air sucking “ooofff” from the embattled hero as the referee rushes in to separate the two combatants, warning Tam-Rex for the late blow. The young blond haired warrior merely laughs at him, turns and fairly dances to his own corner.
Batman’s mighty bod, besides beingworked over more than it should have been with Tam-Rex’s long zinging jabs and body hooks in this round, is fairly buzzing withunmistakable sexual tension as Batman plods to his corner on startlingly heavy, weary legs. His already rock hard cock has swollen even more, poking urgently through the clingyfabric of his trunks as Robin wipes him down,the young hero clucking with growing alarm at not only this telling sign of arousal, but also, of course, at the strange tenderness in Batman’s once invincible body, the soreness Batman so desperately tries to keep inside nevertheless betrayed by his only half stifled gasps and groans while Robin rubs him down. Robin is thinking to himself, “gadddds, the kid’s hurting. How can this be? he’s Batman, this can’t be happening.” But it is; and what Robin can’t see, though perhaps he can guess at, given the advanced state of excitement he’s observed in Batman’s rock hard sex tool is the very real, sweetly tormenting ache that is now spreading from Batman’s crotch and super-sensitive balls throughout his fabulous muscled body.Batman can, feel the ache that is, acutely!
Robin is alarmed; Batman is concerned, very concerned! He is having trouble concentrating, especially when Tam-Rex’s young, ripe warrior’s body is pressed close to his in the frequent in-fighting that has taken place up to this point. The electric friction has become almost numbing in its intensity. Yes, Batman can feel it in his heavy arms, and legs, in the incessant hot flames of desperate, forbidden desire welling up from his crotch whenever that muscled young warrior bitch even gets close to him now. He looks worriedly at Robin between rounds, trying fruitlessly to play down his growing sexual arousal, “gawwwd, Robin, don’t know what’s happening, something’s wrong; I’m having trouble holding it together, can’t concentrate, how can this be?” Robin is thinking to himself, “sheez, for starters you can try to pull your face out of those big,hard pecs during those clinches, dearie; that would help.” But, for the record, he whispers to him, “Batman, you gotta pull it together, hear? You’re still gonna beat him, just concentrate!” And then he adds, “look, do you think its what? Should we check?” Batman shakes his head wanly, admits truthfully, “no, My strength hasn’t beenzapped, but I can’t focus it right. Something’s gone haywire with my system.”
Batman tries his best to shake off the sensations, to “pull it together”, but as the bell rings for the 8th round, it is clear that he is far from full strength, or resolve. Tam-Rex storms to the attack now as Batman feeling strangely lethargic, a very human like, unaccustomed heaviness and weariness settling inexorably into his legs and arms, mounts an alarmingly weak, and slowed, counter-attack. With Batman clearly on the defensive this round, the crowd is disbelieving, Robin is shocked, not to mention disturbingly aroused, as Tam-Rex unleashes for the first time in this fight the full savage fury in his magnificently sculpted, tightly wound warrior’s body, taking total command of the round from a “melting” Caped Crusader. It’s almost like he’s been merely toying with the erstwhile Batman, or at least playing with his mind, and bod, some, waiting for Bataman ‘s powered defenses to crack, waiting for just this moment to pounce on a now visibly struggling, foe.
And pounce he does! His mighty legs are like two iron pillars, planted solidly beneath him as his piston like arms slam almost unimpeded through Batman’s crumbling defenses. He pins the embattled black haired hero against the ropes with brute size and strength, lashing that great body with withering lefts and rights and stunning the fast fading superhero with a rollicking left hook to the jaw that actually wobbles Batman’s legs, drawing loud gasps from the stunned ringside fans. Then, shockingly, a murderous uppercut lifts Batman’s muscled body clear off the ground an inch or so from the impact. Batman’s head snaps back as if on a swivel from the savage blow. He’s totally defensive, backed to the corner ropes, groggy and rubbery-legged. Tam-Rex follows up with another equally brutal uppercut, and another and another. Poor Batman is helpless against the pillaging blows, gloved arms flailing uselessly, head snapping back and forth with each punishing blow blasting against his chin. The crowd is aghast at the beating the hunkered Caped Crusader is taking, some are booing loudly and throwing things into the ring. All but the strongest of humans would be laid out flat on the canvas by now from Tam-Rex’s murderous uppercuts near rounds end. And only two gloved arms slung desperately over the ropes to prop up his battered, sagging body keep even Batman off the canvas now as the bell, mercifully, ends this, Batman’s most desperate, faltering round.
As he struggles merely to steady quaking legs and disentangle his battered body from its rope prison, Batman’s somewhat confused mind wanders back to the nightmare the previous evening, to the bizarre sequence of events in the opening round here, to the awful minutes endured just now, Tam-Rex’s punches slicing deep and, yes, painfully into his collapsing walls of steely defense, slamming his head back with their savage power, depositing him, spent and groggy, clinging desperately to the corner ropes to stay upright. He mumbles softly to himself, wobbly legs pawing at the slickened canvas floor beneath him, “only a slip, gawwwd, he can’t do this to me, Robin.”
Robin is still in the other corner, mouth ajar, shocked at the beating endured by his beloved companion this stunning round.He can’t hear Batman’s groggy, mumbled words.But he, this smart superhero, intrinsically knows now that, indeed, Tam-Rex can “do this” to Batman, and will, if they can’t figure out a way to get Batman re-focused on doing what only he can do, that “Batman thing” that is.But they must act fast, for the ninth round, crucial for both fighters hopes, given the big momentum swing here in favor of Tam-Rex, is barely a minute away. Over in the one neutral corner still, Batman, waiting on shaky legs for assistance from the referee and Robin, both moving in toward him, also realizes, with a shudder, that he has to, and in his mind WILL, rally in the next round, to blunt Tam-Rex’s rally, vanquish the beutiful, yet evil, young warrior. It must be that way, for he is Batman, brave and noble, indeed “invincible”, defender of all that is right and just in this free world, or so they say.
Yes, the 8th round has come to a close in this epic, see-saw battle between two muscled, powerful, and stunningly beautiful young super men.Tam-Rex backs off slowly from the carnage he has wrought this round, pumping one gloved fist in the air, screaming at his battered foe, “you’re going down, SLUT! HERO, MY ASS!” Batman still dangles from the ropes in the neutral corner, as shocking as this may seem to so many loyal followers of this thought-to-be invincible Caped Crusader, seemingly “out on his feet” at the bell. For sure, the world’s “darker hero”, indeed none other than the 8th Wonder of the World, to quote the over zealous ring announcer in his pre-fight intros, is calling on all the recuperative powers he can still muster in that great, if wounded, bod. And he is slowly coming around, but with head still bowed; and with Tam-Rex’s cruel taunts still echoing through his dazed mind.
As Robin and the ref help the wobbly superhero to his corner between rounds, Batman mumbles confusedly through puffy lips, “gunnnhhh, what hit me?;” then, “not a slut; Batman, can’t defeat me!” Suddenly a strange deep sigh escapes his bloodied and swollen lips, and his battered body trembles noticeably even as he sags on the arms of the ref and his sexy dark-haired ring attendant. Below the wringing wet patch of blue at his crotch, a veritable river of pre-cum, heavier and slicker than simply sweat, course down the broad expanse of his increddible muscled upper thighs. Watching from barely fifteen feet away, standing in his corner with loving attendant, boy, the stunning blonde warrior top lieutenant, massaging his shoulders, and with Jungle Slut presently suckling one huge turgid nipple that protrudes from his wonderfully muscled rock hard young, pecswhile Slut Boy, on his knees, reverently towels off his magnificently sculpted thighs and bulging calves, ravishing Tam-Rex, the Towering Teen Tyro of Tiburra, knows it certainly ain’t sweat. He laughs huskily, gestures to Boy, “lookee there, permanent precum has begun, That bitch is hotter than a pistol. I knew it; he’s just like his slutty jerk-off friend here, getting off on getting whupped, hah hah!” Boy laughs with him, bending the blond-haired Warriors King’s head around to plant a loving kiss on his lips, and cooing, “you’ll get him this round, my King; I know it.” Tam-Rex brashly responds, “maybe, maybe not; I may just choose to beat on that lovely bod a bit more, use the slut up completely before finishing him. Yeah, now, wouldn’t that be sweet?”.
Back in the other corner, Robin tries to soothe his battered mate as they lay him back on his stool, and the young hero snaps an ammonia capsule under Batman’s nose to bring him around. With the ref watching concerned from a few feet back, Robin coos, “You’re right, you ARE Batman. You’ll show em next round, honey. Nobody can beat you. You go, man!” The ref just shakes his head and walks away, preparing for the next round. Batman is much more alert now; he rises up quickly seconds before the bell, perhaps too quickly as his long, thick muscled, smoothly legs wobble ever so slightly.But he quickly steadies his shaky legs, Robin puts his mouthpiece back in, and the embattled Caped Crusader pounds his gloves together, glaring at the imperious Teen Tyro in the far corner. “I cannot be defeated”, he tells himself as he comes out with renewed determination for round 9, quickly going on the attack when he hears the bell.
The ever hopeful crowd, which had groaned with every vicious pummeling blow Batman had taken in the previous round, now rises as one, lustily cheering on their hero. Chants of BATMAM, BATMAAAAAN! fill the air as the grey clad Superhero zings a left jab in with blazing hand speed that has not been seen since the very early rounds. Tam-Rex just manages to catch the blur of a punch on the side of his glove, but still the very velocity knocks him back a few feet. The crowd is in a frenzy, sensing the tide turning yet again in this scintillating match.Batman, buoyed, slashes in a again, another left, not blinding fast, but fast enough, rolling Tam-Rex’s head to one side and knocking him back to his own corner; then a follow-up right hook, going for the bullseye, namely Tam-Rex’s comely mug. But the blondheaded warrior swivels his head just in time and the vicious punch whizzes on by. Batman backs up a step, feinting, dodging darting, slamming a left hook down low. Tam-Rex, displaying amazing coolness under fire, not to mention impressive hand speed of his own, blocks the body hook. Batman, chanting to himself, “I am Batman, I will WIN!”, launches a right uppercut at the elusive warrior’s jaw, but Tam-Rex swivels his head away again. Batman is puzzled; nobody can dodge his fists. He tries again, back with the left, this punch albeit noticeably slowed. Tam-Rex brushes it aside disdainfully, then slams a countering jab over Batman’s outstretched arm that pounds into the blond’s jaw. Batman blinks, throws an awkwardly slowed right uppercut that misses completely. Tam-Rex’s right flashes now, budda budda thump, two rapid fire jabs that Batman barely catches on the gloves, a wicked hook that he doesn’t, the slashing blow rolling his head to one side, his mouthpiece floating up as he stumbles sideways away from the blow. The Caped Crusader feels real PAIN rippling through his great body from the punishing jaw shot.He blinks again, tries to answer with a left, but its horribly slow and telegraphed and Tam-Rex laughs tauntingly as he easily swivels his head to one side and the ponderous left sails harmlessly by.
The bell clangs, ending Round 9, and Batman, his brave rally having fizzled out late, trudges with slumped shoulders to his corner, plops down heavily on his stool, arms draped over the middle strand of ropes as Robin feverishly works on him. The young hero soothingly to his weary charge as he massages Batman’s arms and shoulders, “you showed them, came back and made a fight of it, dearie; you’ll get him this round; you’re Batman, nobody can beat you!” Privately, Robin is thinking, “gadds, Batman threw everything AND the kitchen sink at that bitchin looking muscle freak this time, and still he’s on his feet, mocking poor Batman at the bell. Gawwwwd, what’s going on?”
In his pain-addled brain, an insistent inner chant, almost like a mantra, begins to flash across Batman’s brain, “BATMAN, BATMAN, THERE IS NO PAIN” Batman tries to draw strength from it as the 10th round bell approaches. The bell clangs and a grimly determined Batman moves in on the taller blond, who still lounges in his corner, his back to the turnbuckle. Batman tries to go to the body, slamming a left, now a right to Tam-Rex’s washboard abs. The punches, alarmingly slow and ponderous, seem to have little or no effect on the strapping young blond, who shrugs them off as if they were nothing. Batman, in seeming desperation, digs deep, left, right, left, right, laboring horribly to toss the heavy, tired leather into Tam-Rex’s unyielding gut. The big blond laughs again, clinches, drawing Batman in crotch to crotch. Batman groans, wiggles free, tries to go upstairs again with a sloppy right uppercut. The statuesque warrior easily brushes the telegraphed blow aside, comes underneath with a rollicking right to the grey clad hero’s upper stomach. Batman blanches, feeling the punch, and the very real, sudden PAIN, even as the strange mantra yet again plays across his brain, “BATMAN, BATMAN, THERE IS NO PAIN”. he shuffles an awkward left, the punch slapping softly, harmlessly, off Tam-Rex’s side. Tam-Rex slams another right, this one on the belly button, the force lifts a gasping Batman up to his toes. Batman is gaping for air. He clinches now, desperately trying to catch his breath, Tam-Rex slamming lefts and rights, 6 or 7 rapid fire blows, into his gut; the young warrior’s gloved arms a blur as he pummels poor Batman with savage glee.The embattled Caped Crusader holds on desperately until the ref breaks the clinch.
Tam-Rex comes off the ropes now, moving forward, Batman shakily trying to fend off his younger, heavier foe. He misses again.Tam-Rex is making the vaunted superhero look old, way older than his comparatively still tender years, and terribly slow and very, very bad. Tam-Rex snaps the right cross, catches Batman on the face. Batman blinks, looks stunned by the power in the warrior’s punishing blow, then launches a weak countering left of his own, missing badly. Tam-Rex, showing complete disdain for the faltering Batman, followsup with the left uppercut to the solar plexus and another right to Batman’s chin. Batman’s knees go wobbly as REAL INTENSE PAIN floods through that muscled bod thought to be impervious to such mortal stuff. He shuffles back in weary confusion, reefing with pain, the mantra almost desperately pounding against that pain addled brain now, fighting the truth, “BATMAN, BATMAN, THERE IS NO PAIN!” Batman stumbles all the way back until he is resting with his back up against the ropes near the neutral corner. Tam-Rex is relentless. He rains lefts and rights and lefts into Batman’s muscled body. Batman is totally defensive, desperately trying to cover.
In a fiery rage, the young blond, tautly muscled body rippling powerfully, continues the onslaught, pummeling the hunkered superhero against the ropes. Grunts and groans accent the smacks and pops of gloves connecting with yielding flesh. Batman is doing little more than sagging helplessly against the ropes while Tam-Rex uses and abuses his muscled body like he’s doing a speed bag workout.Then, seconds from time, the pillaging warrior slams a vicious right hand a full fist deep into Batman’s battered, horribly softened abs, the force and velocity of the monster belly buster almost doubling poor Batman over in gasping, wheezing agony. Batman’s system shuts down almost completely for a brief second. The faltering Caped Crusader’s usually brilliant blue eyes glaze over, head nodding forward; his muscled arms drop helplessly to sweat streaked flanks and his knees buckle, those normally wondrous, steely strong legs startling rubbery and weak. He is all but knocked out, even though somehow he remains on his feet, weaving and wobbling in groggy confusion. Tam-Rex’s final blow of this round is a cruelly lifted left uppercut that slams into poor Batman’s lowered face, lifting the battered superhero’s entire body with its force. Poor Batman twists around on trembling, rubbery legs, lurches sideways, then forward, falling over the upper strand of ropes in the neutral corner.
At the bell he is still draped there, in that neutral corner, the same all too familiar “rope prison” that held his sagging body at the end of the 8th round. His gloved arms are slung over the top rope and dangling down toward the ring apron, head also hanging down outside the ring, foamy spittle mixed with a thin streak of blood dribbling out of one corner of his gaping mouth, his glassy blue eyes staring vacantly out at the sea of faces ringside. The ref has moved in to begin a standing eight count over the battered hero, but the bell rings before his count can even begin. With an assist from the ref in untangling his pummeled body from his rope prison, Batman finally stumbles in groggy confusion to his own corner, his slow, wobbly journey a sad, weaving, lurching odyssey of a seemingly broken, beaten fighter. He gets only halfway there before sagging down along the ropes yet again, too weak to go on. Dangling there helplessly, once steely thighs melting away, indeed absolutely sizzling hot, and buzzing, with perverse arousal from having Tam-Rex’s blond hot, ravishing form swarming all over him during the steamy beatdown along the ropes , poor Batman whimpers softly, desperately, “gadddds, Robin, pleeeezzz help me!” Robin, on the verge of a massive onrushing orgasm himself at rounds end, irreversibly caught up in his own perverse state of dangerously surging arousal fueled by the sight of that sculpted god of a young warrior pummeling his beloved companion virtually senseless, finally recovers enough of his own faculties to stumble out to the slumped superhero and help him to his corner stool; where the young man, still fighting desperate, perverse arousal, feverishly tries to bring the dazed superhero around.
But there is little to be done for the battered, and over-stimulated, Batman at this point. Over in the far corner, the young blond, barely breathing hard, smiles wickedly. He has fought off every attack by an increasingly desperate Batman, retaliating with a furious assault to which poor Batman has sadly had no answer; and the tautly muscled young warrior smugly realizes the fight is his for the taking. Meanwhile, in newsrooms around the globe, reporters are already making copy on tomorrow’s stunning headlines, all depicting the tragic demise of the darker Justice League member. As Robin drags him off his feet for the 11th round, the inner voice, relentless Mantra, is now beating more incessantly than ever through poor ‘s dazed mind, but the tune has changed, “BATMAN, BATMAN, TAKE THE PAIN!”
Round 11 – the final destruction of the once venerable, formerly thought “invincible”, Caped Crusader begins. Tam-Rex is in total command, Batman shockingly stumbling around the ring on shaky legs, covering meekly, blue gloves drawn up around his handsome face, taking a savage body beating the likes of which few in the fight game have ever seen before, or will likely ever see again. The beating is shocking, fierce, horrifying to so many loyal fans of the superhero; Tam-Rex teeing off on the muscled Caped Crusader with savage impunity, while poor Batman mostly just sags back on the ropes now, the desperate mantra flooding his pain-wracked brain, “BATMAN, BATMAN, TAKE THE PAIN!”.
Then it happens; a vicious flurry of body blows along the ropes, Batmans grey clad torso jolting and trembling with each punch,followed by a murderous right uppercut to the jaw. Batman’s head snaps back violently, then rolls forward limply, His blue eyes blink in groggy confusion as blood and spittle trickle from between bruised, puffy lips. He staggers off the ropes a step or two, wobbles to his left, rubbery legs buckling weakly, his once powered system shutting down systematically even as one small part of him, a tattered remnant of pride perhaps, still fights to stay off the canvas from the monster punch.Tam-Rex just watches with undisguised bemusement, mighty gloved arms cocked menacingly while the ref tries to move him back from the stricken blonde. Batman stutter steps back to the right now, does a slow pirouette around in a wobbly half circle before finally slumping heavily to his knees with a feeble little moan, accompanied by the anguished groans and cries of thousands in the arena, and countless millions more watching on closed circuit TV, as they see Batman, BATMAN, actually go down to the canvas beneath Tam-Rex’s relentless, pillaging, warrior fists.He slumps there, battered and groggy, the so-called “dark knight on the face of the earth” cruelly chopped to his knees by, to quote Robin, a “bitchin looking muscle freak;” indeed a stupefyingly beautiful and powerful 19 year old warrior God, while absolute bedlam, bordering on stark, terrified panic, reigns in the huge arena.
Over in Batman’s corner, barely 15 feet away from the fallen superhero, Robin, a deep desperate ache consuming his over-sexed body as he watched the ravishing young Teen Tyro batter his beloved mate to a bloodied stupor, slumps weakly down to one knee, almost losing it in desperate arousal yet again at the sight of his once invincible lover so helplessly hunkered there on all fours beneath the beutiful warrior. Batman, glassy eyed and rubbery legged, somehow beats the count, staggering up at 7, but a follow-up right hook slams his head to one side and lifts him off his feet as he stumbles back, slamming back against his own corner ropes. He slithers slowly to his butt while Tam-Rex towers over him, taunting him; and while poor Robin, distraught and over-stimulated by the sight of his beloved companion knocked silly not two feet away from him, drops to the ring apron, shuddering in a sudden, violent orgasmic tremor.
Batman just slumps there, on his butt, uncomprehending, his blue eyes fixed in the glassy eyed vacant stare of a kayoed fighter ,one arm draped limply over her quivering, jellied, slicked down legs, the other pawing weakly at the ropes in a vain attempt to get up while the count reaches 5 before the bell clangs. He is saved by the bell, but his whole world is crumbling down around his battered body. The powered bod has flamed out, the powers of concentration long gone as well. And Robin is in no shape to help him, being led off in a giddy daze to be attended to in the dressing room after falling off the ring apron to the concrete floor in the midst of his sudden, devastating orgasm. Poor Batman, despite, or maybe even because of, the desperate beating he’s taken these last few rounds from the physically and sensually overwhelming 19 year old warrior, is almost there himself, almost to the monster orgasm, that is, that has already consumed his dark haired companion. His battered body is a jumble of frayed nerves, an electric hum vibrating from his wet crotch throughout his over-stimulated, system. He is all but gone, in more ways than one.
With Robin being carried out, it is left to the ref and ring doctor to pull the battered superhero up on to his corner stool, where the doc snaps an ammonia capsule under his nose to bring him around. He is about to wave off the fight before Batman lifts his head wearily, just a bit revived by the smelling salts, and weakly protests, “no, no, can’t stop it, he can’t beat me, gunnnnhh”. From the far corner, Tam-Rex, all hepped up, full of himself, snorts, “fight rules say KNOCKOUT only; that means OUT COLD in my book, asshole! Now clear out and let me at him!” Against their better judgment, and admittedly with each cowering with more than a little fright at the sight of the big, powerful warrior looming so close, the ring doc and referee grudgingly decide to let the fight go on.
Now, as he struggles to get to his feet, managing to do so only by slinging both arms over the corner ropes and dragging his savaged body up inch by excruciating inch, the incessant mantra in Batman’s pain and sex-addled brain has changed to: BATMAN, BATMAN, A SLUT FOR PAIN! GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE IT TO ME! PAIN IS THE GAME! he leans back groggily on the ropes awaiting the bell, the ever increasing sexual tension in hIS wet, hot loins and rock hard, aching cock bursting on his dazed brain and mixing with the agony of bruised, battered and exhausted muscles like a buzzsaw of perverse pain/pleasure.
So it is that Batman wanders out dazedly, almost dreamily, to face the young blond-headed ring assassin in the 12th. Like a lamb going to slaughter it is, or seems, getting only a few shaky steps away from his corner before he is bullied back by the overpowering warrior. Propping poor Batman against the corner ropes, Tam-Rex unleashes a furious head salvo on the defenseless grey clad Maiden; a left uppercut to the jaw, right hook to the temple, left cross up high on that handsome face, this last slashing punch opening up a gash above Batman’s right eye. Rubbery legs long since turned to mush, the hapless hero sags forward into Tam-Rex’s strong arms, begins to slither slowly down the muscled warrior’s magnificently sculpted body. An equally hapless referee moves in tentatively to begin another count over the doomed Batman; but Tam-Rex hauls the slack bodied brunette up quickly, throws him back on to the ropes, snidely dismisses the trembling ref, “get away, he just slipped, it wasn’t a knockdown, heh heh. “ The ref quickly backs away, shaking his head, having lost all semblance of control over this steamy fight.
Left alone with his battered victim, Tam-Rex, merely toying with the woozy, yet also still strangely giddy superhero now, brazenly gropes at, pushes the sweaty grey trunks down off Batman big crotch, exposing the ivory hairy orbs and fully erect, rock hard mighty prick. And the pinkish balls fairly tremble with forbidden pleasure as well as soon as Tam-Rex runs one leather clad thumb over them, while poor Batman moans with ever mounting anguish and arousal. Tam-Rex keeps up the steamy torment as the melting Caped Crusader lays back, moaning plaintively, heatedly, arms draped over the top ropes to keep from going down, while theyoung blond thrusts his huge, rock hard 12” prick, battering the mammoth penis back and forth across Batman’s flushed, bruised and battered face. It is the ultimate humiliation for this once proud and revered hero, who weaves drunkenly, his head lolling back, just from the force of Tam-Rex’s iron cock.
And when the domineering young warrior pulls his baby maker back at length, a half dozen pillaging blows down low, his cruel fists digging deep and painfully into Batman’s soft, ruined abs, is enough to nearly double the doomed Caped Crusader over asBatman slumps forward, clutching feebly at the rippling hot bod of his young tormentor.Laughing wickedly, Tam-Rex holds the sagging Batman tight against his muscled body, letting the hapless hero’s gaping mouth slide down across his large firm and pecs. Mindlessly, his blue eyes glazed over, the dazed and woozy Batman begins to work his lips dreamily over the hard, nipple of Tam-Rex’s pec, soon enough hungrily suckling one nipple as the hapless referee bravely, if vainly, tries to pull the marauding blond back from his savagely beaten and sensually mauled victim.
Looking on in the far corner, Slut Boy has a raging hard-on at the sight of his friend now lovingly suckling his adored Master’s nipples. He has barely acknowledged Batman this whole evening, and, even if there is some latent recognition there still, and sadly there appears to be “none”, he feels no sympathy for his horribly battered and humiliated friend even at this moment. Rather, the former superhero is unavoidably aroused simply by viewing what he regards as Tam-Rex’s newest slave candidate properly worshipping that magnificent body he, himself, knows and worships so fervently. And next to him on the ring apron Jungle Slut, for similar reasons, is feverishly fingering his hot and wet asshole while watching this incredible manly dark haired hero, a virtual “stranger” now, slavishly worship those hard nipples he, as well, knows so intimately.
Tam-Rex shoves the urgently suckling Batman’s head down away from his chest at last, and steps back, one arm wrapped tightly around the muscled bodied superhero’s slim waist as poor Batman dangles like a limp rag doll from the mighty muscled arm of the Teen Tyro. Blood and drool dribbles down from poor Batman’s gaping mouth as Tam-Rex, glorying in his stunning dominance, turns slowly around with his captive victim, his free arm raised high, pumping his gloved fist in the air. With his free arm, Tam-Rex slams a sizzling uppercut square into that dangling, bloodied jaw, the punch lifting poor Batman up and splatting him down on his back with such force that the peeled down grey trunks top tears partially apart. He lies there, his balls and cock jutting skyward, one leg splayed out crookedly, the other bent at the knee, arms flung limply behind his head, as the referee moves in slowly to begin his count. At three, poor Batman lifts his head weakly, one arm flailing up as well, waving feebly. But at six, the head clunks back down, rolls to one side, one eye swelling shut from the gash above it, the other staring glassily out at the anguished ringside crowd. He is, for all intents and purposes, KNOCKED OUT! The ring announcer hysterically, and prematurely, announces such, babbling, “OH GAWWWWD, BATMAN IS DOWN FOR THE COUNT! NO, IT CAN’T BE!” Almost cruelly, the savagely beaten superhero is “saved” by the bell with the count at 9.
So officially its now in the one minute break between rounds 12 and 13. But poor Batman still lying gaping on his back at ring center with his Batman suit torn and bloodied and big, balls and rock hard prick all spilled out, ain’t going nowhere, not in a minute, not in five minutes perhaps. And the cowering referee and ring doc aren’t going anywhere close to the tyrannical, overpowering Teen Tyro from Tiburra at present, probably wisely. So Batman is alone, broken and battered in imminent defeat, until Tam-Rex casually leaves his own corner, stands over the helpless Caped Crusader, reaches down with one big red glove, grabbing poor Batman’s matted dark locks, and hauls the moaning superhero up and over to his corner the hard way, dragging him along like some lusty caveman hauling the days “kill” back to his lair. Poor Batman moans pitiably as he is drug by the hair, his long, muscled legs dragging lifelessly behind him, arms dangling listlessly. Tam-Rex haughtily releases his tight grip on the rag doll dark hero, laughing loudly as the shattered Batman clumps to the canvas in his own corner, lying face down in a small pool of his own sweat, spittle and blood, ravaged body jerking and trembling spasmodically, his one good glassy blue eye yet again staring blankly out at the sea of faces ringside. As the seconds tick down on this break period, Batman lies unmoving, save for his twitching body and limbs, gurgling softly, lips moving against the small, but spreading pool in which his face lies, his weak voice a faint whisper, “unnnnggh, Robin, slipped, gunnnnhh, I can get up. Why won’t he let me get up, Robin?”
This should be it, the last sad moments of a destroyed superhero’s career spent broken and twitching in his own corner, a devastated, vanquished Batman left alone in abject defeat and misery. But of course Tam-Rex wants more, and who is to stop him now? Certainly it won’t be the enfeebled shells of the two former heroes cowering submissively on the apron in his own corner. Nor will the weak willed referee, timekeeper and/or ring doctor, who are all trembling in fear of the inhumanly powerful young warior now, dare confront the Terrifying Teen Tyro. And poor Robin, maybe the only one with enough guts to stand up to the imperious young warrior, is till presently indisposed, his sleek, over-sexed body rattling him to a near stuporous state with endless orgasmic tremors as he unavoidably stares at the closed circuit screen back in the dressing room, the famed hero having to be physically restrained and sedated by frantic medical staff.
So, on Tam-Rex’s barked demand, the ring doctor, shaking like a leaf, clears out of the ring, the referee stands back, frozen by indecision and stark terror at the surreal scene in front of him in the ring, and the timekeeper, after a stern glance and nod from the supremely powerful and menacing Warriors King, dutifully rings the 13th round bell.In all the commotion, perhaps two to three minutes have elapsed since the bell ending the 12th round clanged, not that it matters much toBatman. He wouldn’t be ready to fight in 10, make that 20, minutes, maybe more; he is that far gone. Yes, poor Batman is still crumpled face down and twitching in his corner, a final desperate mantra beating upon his numbed senses, tearing at his ravaged psyche, shaking his savagely beaten, trembling, terribly over-aroused body with its thunderous urgency: BATMAN, BATMAN, A SLUT FOR PAIN! GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE IT TO ME, PAIN IS THE GAME!. BATMAN, BATSLUT, WE’RE ONE AND THE SAME!
And now out comes Tam-Rex, bold, breathtakingly beautiful, awesomely, supremely powerful, and totally unchecked in his savage dominance; even as the ring announcer babbles hysterically, “somebody PLEEZ STOP HIM, this is a travesty, BATMAN IS HELPLESS; he’ll KILL HIM, gawwwwdddd NOOO!” Clucking to himself, “Round 13, how sweet; This is your lucky round and lucky day, Bat Slut,” the raging young warrior pulls poor Batman off the canvas, yanking him up by him damp, matted black locks yet again, with barely a feeble moan of protest from the savaged superhero. Tam-Rex props him comely victim up in the corner ropes now, almost gently, if tauntingly, slapping the helpless hero across his handsome face with one glove as if to bring the woozy dark hero around while the other gropes and mangles poor Batman’s already raw and ravaged nipples.Batman moans thinly, sighs loudly, a sudden, goofy grin crossing his bruised and bloodied face, the smile of a woozy, kayoed fighter for sure, perhaps something more. Tam-Rex changes his attack and is pushing in hard on both the bull balls now, squeezing the swollen balls between gloved thumb and fingers, mashing the delicate ivory flesh beneath his powerful, gloved fists. Batman’s one good eye blinks, glazing over even more, he whimpers fitfully, then abruptly gasps and trembles, slumped body shaking violently, the cum flowing from his rock hard prick, as he offers the ultimate submission to a vastly superior man, a shuddering orgasmic release. Tam-Rex, feels the warm hot white cum spilling over on to his own closed abs, glories in the sensation of that powerful body jolting in orgasmic surrender as he holds it tight to his mighty, rippling hero’s bod. He snorts huskily, laughs haughtily, and exclaims loudly, “YES, a horny little BAT SLUT you are! And you are all mine now!”.
Poor Batman is still gasping in the throes of his shattering orgasm when Tam-Rex pushes him back hard into the corner, loops the feebly moaning superhero’s arms over the top strand of ropes, then steps back, measuring the doomed dark hero for the final vicious blows that will forever destroy the last vestiges of pride and power in the deswtroyed bodied Caped Crusader. From a safe distance, the terrified, anguished ring doc weakly begs the blond warrior, “please no, can’t you see he’s beaten, can’t defend himself.. please stop, master!” But, after a stern glare from the ruthless Warriors King, who snorts loudly, “KO only, as in OUT COLD you miserable little limp dick!”, he quickly shuts up and turns his eyes away, unable to watch the carnage that he is helpless to stop.
Now, with savage glee, Tam-Rex tees off on his slumped, helpless victim; first, a pillaging right hook to the face, poor Batman’s head jerking violently to the right in a spray of sweat, foamy spittle and blood; now burying his left glove deep into Batman’s ruined abs, the red leather almost disappearing from sight as it burrows into the soft and fleshy stomach, the vicious punch accompanied by a whoosh of air being forcefully expelled from Batman’s lungs as he sags forward, coughing and gagging weakly, foamy spittle mixed with blood now running in a steady stream from his gaping mouth as his slack jaw hangs almost to his chest. Then follows a sadistic right uppercut square on that hanging, slack jaw, the murderous punch blasting poor Batman’s head back in another bloody spray. His battered body jerks violently from the force of the blow.
Batman’s head is laid back over the top rope, blood streaming out of both corners of his slack mouth, blood soaked mouthpiece floating up and plopping out, falling to the ring apron beneath his lolling head. His one good blue eye is glazed completely over and rolled back in his head. The other eye is glued shut by a purplish, monstrously swollen welt. For all intents and purposes, the dark haired haired hero is completely KO’d, perhaps more dead than alive, his ravaged body held up only by his stretched out arms, which are tightly wedged between the upper and lower ropes. Loud shrieks and gasps are heard from ringside as horrified fans view their beloved superhero, the tragically doomed, would-be defender of all that is right and good in this world, lying there on the corner ropes, beaten to a bloody, twitching pulp. Ringside fans, the closest to the grisly scene, are screaming for somebody to help even as they back up in raw terror from the savagery of the powerful young blond.
But no security folks are rushing to the ring, the ring announcer and timekeeper have both fled the arena in stark terror, the ring doc has collapsed to all fours, his legs weak and unresponsive as he too has tried to flee, and is now weeping shamelessly. And the referee is cowering in the far corner, trembling violently in abject fear and revulsion. All the so-called fight officials are terrified of the raging young warrior; and Batman’s ring attendant, the sex crazed Robin, is back in the dressing room, drugged up and bound to a gurney, babbling groggily, incoherently as his lithe body slowly comes down from its orgasmic meltdown. Though Robin is barely conscious, his glazed over green eyes still stare numbly at the closed circuit screen overhead showing the bloodied twitching Batman lying back utterly whipped and helpless on the ropes. A small tear works it’s way down his angular face at the sight as he mumbles groggily, “oh gawwwdd, Batman, oh gawwwwwd, it’s ALL over!”
Indeed, it is ALL over, or at least all but Tam-Rex, and perhaps Boy, think so. And poor, broken, battered Batman is left all alone now against the unchecked savagery of the wild blond haired warrior from the Island of Tiburra. He is completely at Tam-Rex’s mercy, and the Towering Teen Tyro has NONE! As se stops his murderous punching for just a moment, coolly running his gloved thumb down , roughly abrading yet again one stiff nipple of the savagely beaten Batman, Tam-Rex smiles as he sees a telltale twitching of Batman’s battered body in response, followed by a feeble little gasp and another fresh rivulet of heavy, musty juices running down the vanquished superheroe’s muscled thigh. “Bat Slut is alive,” Tam-Rex whispers to himself, “and ready to cum yet again in the presence of his new Master. “How sweet”, he muses; ” he’ll make a good slut, maybe better than Jungle even.” Just for kicks, taking complete ownership of that fabulous, if now horribly beaten and battered, bod, Tam-Rex ruthlessly twists the captive balls between gloved hand and thumb, laughing wickedly as whimpers thinly, then gasps as a new stream of cum traces down his jellied thighs while his over-stimulated body jolts again in orgasmic surrender to the majesty that is Tam-Rex, King of the Warriors!
In the dim recesses of his mostly unconscious mind, poor Batman has one more flashback to that troubling nightmare the previous evening; to a warbly vision of his battered, beaten body being placed on a stretcher after the devastating defeat, and then carried to and laid at the feet of his imagined blond-haired conqueror. Now, with his ravaged body still in the throes of yet another shuddering orgasm, he whimpers thinly, “My God, my Master, I am yours, gunnnnh!” His stunning, blond haired conqueror in the present moment, upon hearing the faint, garbled words, nods his head, smiling, hoarsely rasps, “yes, you are Bat Slut, all mine!”
Over in the far corner, zombie like Slut Boy has pulled his big super dong clear of his flimsy blue loin cloth and is flogging his meat urgently while his glassy eyes look vacantly over at his adored Master sensually mauling his friend, Batman. And Jungle Slut too, Slut Boy’s fellow slave, has his whole fist inside his asshole, crying out in orgasmic ecstasy as he watches the steamy physical and sexual conquest of the hero.
As Slut Boy shoots his wad and falls back, spewing cum all over his stomach and massive chest, Jungle Slut also falls back in orgasmic exhaustion, and Boy smiles knowingly, wondering what it will be like to use and abuse Batman’s muscled bod himself, Tam-Rex winds up for the final cruel, needless blow to a destroyed legend. Driven by all the latent strength in that incredible superbod, the sensually sculpted, rippling body of the new mightiest man on the face of the earth, the brutally powerful right handed punch rises swiftly from his magnificently muscled legs powering it up, sinewy body twisting mightily with the effort, providing more sizzling torque to carry it along; all of this massive muscular energy coming together with an inhumanly loud crack of fisted leather against slack jaw. The titanic force of the blow shakes the ring, pulling the doomed hero’s arms away from the ropes as it blasts poor Batman’s battered body up and over the wildly whipping fibers. The beaten hero’s jettisoned body somersaults dizzily in mid-air before clumping down hard on heel and butt on the apron’s edge; then crashes heavily to the hard arena floor, the ravaged body of the savagely beaten superhero jerking and twitching as it rolls another ten feet purely from the force of this mighty last blow. Finally, poor Batman, or what’s left of him, and it ain’t much, comes to rest on his back against a recently vacated ringside seat, arms and legs spread-eagled, broken, mostly nude body continuing to twitch and jerk spasmodically as he lies battered to a stuporous, bloody pulp.
His desperate fight against a stronger, vastly superior Warrior is over, his career as a revered and beloved Superhero crushed asunder by the pillaging fists of blond haired Tam-Rex, the Towering Teen Tyro of Tiburra, truly a Master of Pain and Humiliation in the ring today, perhaps even, as he has so boldly predicted, now Master of the World!
And sadly, the vanquished superhero may already be in another, much graver “fight”; for Batman’s devastated body lies very pale and unmoving, save for the endless spasmodic tremors gripping its ruined muscles. His breathing, such as it is, is shallow and irregular. Blood oozes steadily from his gaping mouth, mixing with the sweat and spittle in a pool beneath his head. He is not only pitifully beaten, but to all appearances, Batman’s very life seems to be hanging on by a thin thread.
Indeed, Batman, or the limp, pale shadow of what used to be Batman, lies defeated for the first time ever after the most vicious, savagely cruel ring beating anyone, anywhere, has ever seen. And Tam-Rex, standing proud and alone over that tragic, broken creature, doesn’t really care if the vanquished superhero is alive or dead, but guesses, from the shallow rise and fall of the beaten hero’s chest, that poor Batman clings to life yet. “Good,” murmurs Tam-Rex to himself as he leaves the splayed figure for the moment to return to a jubilant Boy and his adoring slaves; “I have big plans for you, my comely little Bat Slut!”
Only a few brave photographers lurking in the shadows, furtively taking pictures and video captures that will live in the collective nightmares of an entire world, are still in the arena when Tam-Rex and Boy, after a long, passionate, tongue groping embrace, finally unwrap from each other and gather up their belongings and notorious slaves, JungleSlut and Slut Boy. Boy leads each with a leash attached to their studded red collars while they crawl meekly, obediently, after their Master. Tam-Rex, at the head of this grotesque parade, pauses briefly once again at the crumpled, bloodied figure of the comatose Batman, or rather Bat Slut as he will be known from now on, assuming, that is, that he even survives this brutal beating. He lies still where he had fallen after that horrifying jettison over the top ropes and tumble into darkness against the first row of ringside seats. The one good eye of the battered dark hero is still rolled back in his eye socket, his arms slung lifelessly behind his head, long, muscled legs splayed limply out, blood spattered, and now startlingly pale body. Coolly reaching down with one big, powerful hand, the mighty Warriors King grabs poor Bat Slut by his blood and sweat streaked black locks, dragging the unconscious brunette up the arena aisle, the “spoils of victory”, as it were.