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A Replacement Puddin' (Batman: Animated Series) [RELEASED]
🕑 Added 2019-03-22 21:15:37 +0000 UTCWeekly Poll Winner
Themes: Rough Sex, Bondage, Dom/Sub
Summary: After a long, suspiciously quiet night, Bruce arrives back at the mansion to find a certain costumed clown girl naked in his bed, twirling a pair of bat-cuffs. Turns out, Joker had gotten himself offed by some random schmuck, and after watching him laugh himself to death as he choked on his own blood, Harley had set out to get with the second craziest guy in Gotham. It's a testament to how right she is that Bruce sees no option but to take up the mantle of Batman and give her exactly what she wants.
-x-X-x-
It had been a long night, and ultimately fruitless at that. Oh sure, he’d stopped a few crimes here and there, but Batman’s ultimate goal for the evening had ultimately hit dead end after dead end. There was no denying that something was going on in Gotham… but right now, he couldn’t figure out what. It all centered around the Joker though, he knew that much. He just had to figure out where the mad man had gone after escaping Arkham two nights back.
So far though, he’d had no luck, and with dawn slowly beginning to approach, the Caped Crusader had no choice but to head back to the Batcave. Coming up on the hidden entrance, Batman presses a button in the Batmobile that opens the way, and a moment later, he’s driving down into the earth, a tunnel that takes him right to his secret crime-fighting lair.
Parking the Batmobile on its usual spot, Batman hops out of his car with a flourish, while at the same time pulling off his mask. He doesn’t necessarily become Bruce Wayne just because he’s exposed his face and shed his cowl, but at the same time, he’s not necessarily the Caped Crusade anymore either. He’s in that in between state, the state where he finds that he does his best research at the bank of computers that line one full side of the Batcave.
That’s where he heads next, planning on spending at least a couple more hours looking into things through his electronic methods, given that the old-fashioned way had failed him so far. The Joker couldn’t hide forever, nor would he want to. Sooner or later, the crazy clown would do something that would allow Batman to hunt him down and put him back where he belonged, in the loony bin.
Of course, all of his plans for spending a couple more hours awake to try and track down the Joker are immediately derailed when the bat-themed hero comes up the stairs from the Batmobile’s parking space to find his chair is already occupied… by a gagged and tied up Alfred. Bruce’s eyes widen for a moment, and then the cowl is back up as he spins around, taking in his surroundings, trying to find the trap, waiting for the inevitable ambush.
And yet, there is none. No one strikes, even though he can imagine a dozen villains who might be capable of finding out his secret identity and laying an ambush here for him. And yet, he can’t imagine a single one that would set Alfred up as bait, and then… not actually USE him as bait. The fact that they aren’t attacking… is there a bomb?!
Hurrying over, Batman pulls Alfred’s gag out, prepared to grab the older gentleman up and race to the Batmobile as fast as possible. It’s the look on Alfred’s face that stops him in his tracks though. His cherished and ever-present butler isn’t afraid or nervous or worried for either of them… if anything, he looks exasperated. As well as perhaps a little beat up. There’s a knot forming on Alfred’s forehead from where someone clearly gave him a right wallop.
“Alfred… what happened?”
Letting out a sigh, Alfred just remains seated in the chair, all tied up.
“You have a… visitor waiting for you upstairs in the master bedroom, Master Wayne. She was most insistent that you attend to her immediately when you arrive.”
Frowning, Batman considers this for a long moment. Then, he realizes he could easily be considering it WHILE he cuts Alfred free. Taking out a Batarang, the Caped Crusader stars sawing through the ropes as he plies Alfred for more information.
“She? Not Selina, surely?”
“… No, Master Wayne. It is not Miss Kyle. It’s Miss Quinzel.”
Bruce’s eyes widen beneath Batman’s cowl, and he steps back as Alfred stands from the chair he’d been restrained to for who knew how long. Harley was here? As in, Harley Quinn, the poor woman driven mad by the Joker and used as a punching bag for far too long? No wonder Batman couldn’t find any trace of the Joker, if he was already here. And yet… before he can ask, Alfred preempts him, able to read him even with the cowl up.
“No, Master Wayne. The Joker is not here. If he was, I doubt I would be alive. Miss Quinzel has come… alone.”
For some reason, hearing that sent more of a shiver of unease up the Caped Crusader’s back than if she’d been working with the Joker.
-x-X-x-
Still completely cowled, Batman pushes open the door to Bruce Wayne’s master bedroom, stepping inside. He probably shouldn’t be surprised by what he finds waiting for him. Harley Quinn lays on the bed, completely naked save for the jester’s hat she always wears atop her head. But beyond that, every last inch of her stark-white skin is on display as she lounges there in a purposefully provocative pose, twirling a pair of Bat Cuffs on one finger.
Her eyes light up the moment she sees him.
“Hiya Bats! I-ooh~”
Of course, he doesn’t let her finish whatever she’s going to say. The moment he’s got eyes on her, Batman flings out a batarang, a specialized one for capture. It splits in midair, unraveling a length of Kevlar rope in between it that smacks into Harley just right, dragging her back from her position into a point where her wrists and neck are all tied together, the sharp ends of the batarang digging into the wall behind her and pinning her in place.
She scrambles for a moment, her legs kicking out, and Batman ends up seeing far more of the deranged therapist’s body than he ever expected to, before she eventually gives up struggling and just pouts at him.
“You always play rough, don’tcha Bats?”
Then, the pout becomes a wild grin.
“Luckily for you, I LOVE rough!”
“Harley. Where is the Joker?”
Batman gets his first clue of what’s happened when Harley’s grin is wiped from her face, turned into a haunted, depressed expression for a moment. Then, she lets out a bark of what is distinctly forced laughter, even as he approaches the bed.
“Not here! It’s just you and me, Bats! You’ll give me what I need, won’tcha? I’ve been a BAD girl… at the very least, I think I deserve a spanking, right?”
“… Harley, I need you to tell me where he is. What’s he planning? Why did he send you here?”
Once again, Harley does a one-eighty, going from happy to sad and then angry in just a few seconds. She snarls as she strains against her bonds.
“He didn’t send me here! He ain’t planning nothin’! As for where he is… probably still in that alley!”
He’s getting somewhere now. He’s starting to get an idea of what happened, in fact. Stepping closer, Batman doesn’t say anything else. He lets his presence, imposing and solid as ever, do the work for him. Harley tries to look away. She squirms under his gaze… but in the end, she breaks. They all broke somehow, whether it was because they WANTED to spout their insanity at him, or just because they couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“H-He’s dead, okay?! He’s DEAD, Bats! My puddin is DEAD! There is no plan, there’s no nothing! He’s GONE!”
For a moment, Batman keeps staring as Harley begins to sob, tears streaming down her painted cheeks. He frowns beneath his cowl, considering the veracity of her claims. Harley Quinn was very good at crocodile tears… and yet, he had so much experience with her that Batman liked to think he was pretty good at discerning when she was faking it. All of his instincts were telling him that she wasn’t faking it now.
“How did it happen, Harley?”
“… He got offed by some random schmuck. Threatened a guy with his knife and his flower, like he always did. But then, it turned out the guy had a knife too. He opened Mistah J’s throat and ran off before I could even do anything. Puddin… puddin just lay there laughing as the blood flowed out of him. I couldn’t hold it in, ya see. My hands weren’t big enough.”
For the first time, Batman actually FOCUSES on Harley’s hands. They’re stained red with dried blood, now that he’s actually looking at them. Though, while he believes most of what she’s said, he thinks she’s lying, or at least holding back on one thing. The guy may have gotten away at first, but Batman highly doubted that Harley hadn’t tracked him down, before coming here. Still, that was… this was all…
“Why did you come here, Harley? Is this your way of turning yourself in? Getting naked in Bruce Wayne’s bed?”
Harley shifts gears again, going from depress and angry back to cackling happy again.
“Hah! Don’t be silly, Bats! You put me back in Arkham, and I’ll just get out again! I ain’t here to get sent back to the loony bin… I’m here for YOU!”
Batman blinks at that, and senses something distinctly predatory in Harley’s gaze as she leans as far forward as her restraints will allow, licking her lips hungrily.
“… Me?”
“The way I see it, Bats, you’ve got a choice to make. You can turn me in, I can break out again, and we can repeat this dance in my puddin’s honor until one of us finally dies. It’ll probably be me, don’tcha think? But I’ll do a lot of damage until then. It’s what he woulda wanted, after all. Or…”
She trails off, clearly provoking him to respond. Still, even knowing he was being played, Batman was willing to walk right into it. The first option wasn’t one he looked forward to, even as he could see it playing out exactly that way if Arkham proved as ineffectual at holding Harley as they had in the past.
“Or what, Harley?”
Her grin is beatific as she makes a show of presenting her nude body to him.
“I’m in the market for a man, Bats. Punish me for being a bad girl. Put me on the straight and narrow. Make me yours… and I’ll be good. Promise.”
For a solid minute, he just stands there, silent. Harley seems to feel the tension in the room, because she doesn’t talk, but that doesn’t stop her from doing everything else possible to show off to him, from framing her tits with her arms to spreading her legs wide to show off her glistening pussy. They both know he’s considering it. After all, a chance to pull her off the board for good? Licking her lips, Harley does finally break the silence.
“I could carry on my puddin’s memory… or I could probably get in with Poison Ivy. But I figured I’d offer you the goods first, Bats. Seemed only fair~”
Slowly, Batman finishes approaching the bed. As he climbs on, he reaches down and Harley watches while he unzips a certain part of his costume. She tucks the knowledge of said zipper away, because until Batman grabs at it, there’s absolutely nothing there that she can see anyways. Regardless, his cock falls out of its confines, flopping out from his bat suit. As he gets closer, it grows a little harder. But even if he’s not fully erect, he’s still nice and big, thick and large in ways that have Harley salivating.
It’s not his cock size that she’s here for though, and when Batman flips her over onto her front, causing her to twist in her restraints quite painfully, she cries out happily as he follows it up with a smack across her pale-white behind.
“Oooh, yes Bats! Give it to me!”
“That was for hurting Alfred. You won’t touch him again, or else this deal is off. Understood?”
His cockhead presses up against her slit, teasing it for a moment as he waits for her answer. It’s quick in coming, even as Harley squirms and moans in anticipation.
“Y-yes sir! I’ll be a good girl sir, so long as you’re keeping me on the straight and narrow!”
With a grunt, Batman thrusts into the female clown from behind. Harley squeals in response, her eyes fluttering and her tongue lolling out of her mouth. Her insides are exceptionally tight around his cock, but he’s no two-pump chump. As he begins to thrust away, grunting all the while, Batman continues to lay into Harley’s ass with his gloved palms, spanking her and punishing her at the same time that he’s giving her exactly what she wants by fucking her.
The Joker was dead. It seemed almost surreal, but at the same time, deep down inside, Batman knew it to be true. It was what he’d been feeling these last two days, why he’d been so dead set on finding the mad man. But now the Joker was dead, and perhaps Gotham was a little safer. It wouldn’t be though, if Harley Quinn decided to escalate in her ‘puddin’s’ memory. That made it up to Batman to rein her in. He was the only one who could, or so it seemed.
Meanwhile, Harley was ecstatic that her plan was working so well. Not that she really had any ulterior motives. After seeing the Joker die in front of her, the young woman wasn’t necessarily in the most stable of places. But she’d figured out a solution to that, all on her own. She just needed to find someone who could replace her puddin and everything would be fine.
Who better to replace a man as charismatic and personable as the Joker, than his greatest rival, Batman himself? Or at least, that was how Harley, in all her derangement, saw matters. She needed to find a man who was larger than life itself. It just so happened that her pick was also the second most deranged man in all of Gotham, after her dearly departed Mistah J.
Oh yes, as Batman does his ‘duty’ and thoroughly fucks Harley into a stupor, pounding into her from behind, fucking her in Bruce Wayne’s bed no less, the crazy girl knows she’s found exactly where she belongs. And so long as she keeps being a bad girl every once in a while, but not TOO bad of a bad girl, Batman will have no choice but to keep disciplining her and punishing her.
She can hardly wait~
Comments
Orion9137
And the most accurate portrayal award goes to Alfred, who's just use to this by now.
