Jonathan widened his eyes and groaned, blinking his way back into reality. Even now he smelled... something, the hint of a scent that resembled rotten eggs. Right now the blue eyed boy noticed several things: he was lying on his stomach, legs and arms stretched and tied to the ground by dark-red shackles. And: that gray floor belonged to no other place than the famed Batcave, fortress and hideout of the mysterious figure seen in mist-filled nights, more a shadow or experience as opposed to a literal man - the being known as Batman. In one corner of this cave towered a real-sized green T-Rex model, with bent claws, the open mouth exposing dagger-like yellow teeth. Not far from it stood a bronze coin, a sculpture of sorts, tall as a house. The walls were covered in screens of various forms and sizes, showing scenes or observations from the local park, the entrance to Wallstreet, the inner city and, yes, even the white house. The ceiling's shadows were populated by literal bats - here and there those beings squeaked or shuffled, their glowing eyes almost to drown in. Weirdly enough, this place smelled like some kind of hospital. And there, on the spiral-staircase, stood a brat with black spiky hair, hands on the own hips, the lips smiling. The kiddo Jonathan hated with every part of his being. Damian Wayne looked calm as fuck, flanked by two silver... robots?
The hell? Looked like Robin had entered into science-mode again. Two more appeared, opening Kent's restraints and carrying the panting son of Superman closer - Jonathan was looking around, his pulse racing, trying to find a route to escaping... somehow. And that Damian observed with his calm-as-ever smile, rejoicing in the fact that Jonathan Kent (a.k.a. Superboy) was forced onto the own knees by the damo-bots, despite his cursing and resisting. What a joke, Damian thought. Would that nerd never learn? Then again: why should he want that to happen? He smirked, ever so slightly, and waved with a hand, signaling the damobots to let Kent go and respawn at their usual place below the stairs. Shaking his head, Jonathan wiped a strand of black hair from his forehead, grimacing.
"Damian," he said and turned his head ever so slightly to study his on/off crime-fighting partner and variation of a friend.
Damian's hoody was as black as his pants and shoes, the green eyes glistening and taunting.
"If you'd be so nice to take position at the door, C-C-08? I want to know as soon as anybody's approaching the entrance to this place!
"As... you... wish," the Damobot said as he bowed and started moving with clicking steps, hellbent on obeying what he'd been told to do.
Frowning, Damian studied a huge golden door, hearing the clicking of the activating security-system. Frome time to time machinery bipped, you'd hear the "humming" of living servers. With that Damian looked at the son of his dad's rival/friend, who was just getting up after the sleep-dart's grip had started to vanish for good.
"And where, my buddy, do you think you're going?"
Damian stepped closer, one hand on his hip, the other's index finger rubbing the own nose while he approached Jonathan, a boy who was walking backwards, slowly. Evil's chuckle came from Wayne's lips. Ever since getting that atomic from his dady's posterboy nightwing had he wanted to be on the humiliation's other side - and this was the perfect stepping stone, one of several before he'd take revenge on Nighty himself. He shunpooed behind Kent, knocking him to his knees, Jonathan grunting as he was struck in the back with one hell of a force. Rubbing his head, another grimace came over Jonathan, one eye pressed shut while tears of pain and surprise glistening in his gaze. He felt as if somebody had thrown a fucking rock against his forehead!
"The fuck, man? What do you want? Why are you even here? I thought you'd been banned from playing superhero?"
He snorted.
"At least until you whine your Dad or Alfred back into obedience!"
Damn, something was... not right, at least so far, an earthquake of sorts going through his mind, knees shaking, the blinking faster and more frequent than normally. What was that... metallic taste on his tongue? Whatever the case, Damian kneed his victim into the back, smashing Jonathan Kent flat onto his stomach!
"UGH!"
Kent gasped. He had the bad suspicion that he'd get a bruise on his belly.
"The fuck are you after, Wayne? I know daddy-o's paying for Gotham Academy - nor am I stupid enough to think you'd turned into goody two-shoes - but shouldn't even you attend classes at least sometimes?"
"After the actual classes I've been to... what teacher could live up to the league of assassins?"
Damian shook his head with a chuckle.
“But to answer your question: there's actually a lot that I want."
An evil chuckle left Wayne's mouth for work - he bent down to take off Kent's shirt, being rewarded by Jonathan widening his eyes.
"Dude... the hell are you up to? I mean, tell me... you're not actually going to...?"
"I wouldn’t force myself on you if the fate of multiverse depended on it," Damian grimaced. "That you'd even consider that..."
Jonathan's relief culminated in a sigh. But there was also a comeback growing in Wayne's head, that "plant" unfolding its green leaves, allowing the sun's rays to touch and make glisten rainbow-esque "flowers".
"Sorry to disappoint you, Jo-john!"
Good god, when Batman-Junior tried to be funny or conversational... Jonathan turned his head to face the other, blushing.
"Don't take this more personal than I already mean it, Dami... but you are fucking weird.”
"Touché."
Damian released his pressure and headed for the door. That guy was hella weird, Jonathan thought, frowning. Something was weird with HIM, however. Felt like warm air being blown at his entire body. And the stuff was going THROUGH him, as well. Had Damian really collected Kryptonyte? And placed it... where, exactly? Damian appeared! Right in front of him. Grabbed Jonathan's hand. Kent looked up! And Damian gave sadism's trademark smile, twisting his victim's hand which caused mini-Superman to close his eyes in pain and bite his lower lip, hoping to crack the brain's neck. This wasn't what Damian had hoped for. But, for the moment, it should do. Jonathan opened his eyes just when Wayne left his wrist.
"What are you smiling like that for?"
But Damian didn't answer and, instead, brought his foot behind Jonathan's knee, sending that boy into a kneeling position. A saint lowering his head before god. Anger flared and warmed Jonathan's eyes.
"The fuck do you want from me? This game's getting boring!"
At least he'd managed to convince Damian to sink into eye-level mode, slipping his left arm around Kent's shoulder, preventing him from moving his arms. But Damian's left hand went to Jonathan's lower back, making the hostage widen his eyes, squeaking, attempting to escape this uncomfortable hold.
"You know... I've taken the freedom of keeping an eye on your school-days. Well, a couple times - but it quickly got boring. Over a year ago! But even so... I can't imagine that much changed... So tell me..."
Damian's voice turned into a whisper, making Jonathan cease squirming to listen up. "Does the word... wedgie... ring any bells for you?"
Damian was a rock in the ocean. His voice belonged to a boardroom meeting.
"No, it doesn't! And I'd rather keep it that way!"
He yelled, moving the own body, desperate to escape the death grip he was imprisoned in. Even through his own emotions and flesh, he heard Damian's chuckle. Then a hand entered his pants.
Oh. Oh!
Jonathan froze without a second thought! His eyes widened while Wayne spoke again.
"Well, Shakespear-Junior, I'll try to phrase this in a way that even appeals to you: a wedgie is when the undergarments of someone are pulled upward, creating immense (!) pain and misery for the victim. Though I doubt that swirlies and pantsings were all you got, even you should know that wedgies mostly happen as a form of bullying or teasing. Here, though, we'll utilize it as a form of torture!"
Wayne beamed, allowed his sadistic voice to deplatform the ever normal and calm version. Jonathan turned his head to look into Damian's eyes. They stared in a silent duel. Until Kent couldn't keep it in anymore. Though he'd heard both the villains and victims of bullying talk about wedgies and seen some pretty unrealistic ones in comics and on tv, he still struggled to view it as real.
"Pah! That's the funniest shit I've ever heard! I... I... I mean... whew..."
His face had reddened. "Tears" glistened in his eyes.
"Pain? From my underwear? Dude, that's hilarious! Holy crap, my stomach hurts. Think that's the biggest Joke I've ever..."
Kent's voice trailed off when he felt a hand on his briefs. He blinked.
"Damian... you okay? Cut that out, it's disturbing... hey, you listening?"
Jonathan shook his head.
"You're not actually going to give me a wedgie! Somebody watched too many cartoons. Totally unrealistic stuff. Won't cause me any pain - not that I'm asking…”
God damn, Damian's face was dead serious and he reached down further into Kent's pants. And then Wayne's hand was lightning! He grabbed Jonathan's briefs at the waistband and yanked them halfway up his back! The middle fabric-string was on a swing, jumping into Jonathan's ass and making his cheeks wobble! And Kent was... stunned, utterly. Not just by the fact that Satan-boy had actually given him a wedgie but also by the ensuing pain. Jonathan looked at Damian-call-me-asshole-Wayne, a dark-haired boy who was grinning like a mad man, a mad wedgie man, even! Holy shit, Jonathan thought, cringing and closing his eyes. He HAD TO chew his lip to keep from tearing up. SOMEBODY had thrown a couple hundred swords into his anus, keeping them stuck. He felt sore, with way too little room down there.
Holy cow does that hurt, ow! God, if I ever time travel... If I meet the fucker who created underwear...!
Damian interrupted Jonathan's thoughts, wrapping his right leg to hold Kent's arms instead of his left hand, bringing that very hand down to deliver a hard slap to Jonathan's butt! The "SMACK" echoed through the cave. Some bats even flew away, screeching. This mess was heard in the entire “throne room”, so to speak, was followed by a whimper. Wayne's smile widened. Even more. Extasy roared in his veins, turning the blood into disco-light. The bully's body trembled, his eyes almost glowing.
"No pain from underwear? Isn't that what you were boasting about?"
"Shit," Jonathan whimpered, chewing his lip again and looking away. "Oww... ow..." His voice was a whisper. And he closed his eyes tightly to reduce at least SOME pain.
"You son of a bitch! Assassin-bitch. The hell was that for?!"
Damian's response was to roll his green eyes.
"Oh, shut it, princess. You'd think a superhero could take that much."
He decided not to remember his own wedgie-history or the resulting sobbing.
"I just gave you a neat warm up. Just wait until you'll get an... atomic wedgie!"
His voice was Christmas-cheer.
"Atomic… wedgie... what's that?"
Jonathan panted. His gaze was clouded from both pain and exhaustion.
He wanted to prepare. Wanted to know. Sure, he'd seen some stuff on tv, in comics and school. Even so: he struggled to believe it, Internet or not, that such a thing were possible.
"Ah?"
Damian flashed a grin. His teeth glistened. And fire flamed and crackled in his gaze. "An atomic wedgie... that's when the underwear..."
Damian brought the waistband higher, a little - and got a winch as reward.
"It's when the underwear is brought over the victim's head!"
Delight, a sadist with delight! So, it was true, then? Jonathan frowned. His psychological resistance was a wall of ice-cubes, cracking and breaking one puzzle piece after the other. That was when horror came through and rammed his brain, painting it all bloodred.
"You... you wouldn't..."
Jonathan tried to squirm away, stopping that immediately, given that every bit of movement caused his wedgie to travel deeper, bringing about additional soreness. God, once he'd escaped this prison...! Damian chuckled and let go of the waistband, leaving the victim flat on the ground, grabbing Kent's wrists and crossing them in front of the dork's face. Then bully boy pulled a remote from his pocket, pressing a green button and causing two sets of shackles to jump out of the ground. That fucker was whistling! And, as if that weren't worse enough already, Damian took his sweet, sweet time shackling the loser's hands, moving on to the feet. Passing Jonathan's buttocks, he gave them a loud smack, greedy for another whimper. And what to think of this? Jonathan's leg-chains were not as short as the hands'. He could have done the split! Once more Jonathan tried to move, raising his head to see if there was any escape to safety. Damian was focused on the victim's legs. Feeling a hand on his feet, Kent kicked so the monster wouldn't shackle them, too! The foot crashed into Damian's arm, Monsieur Wayne being not amused. Now he felt like the shark in jaws, spotting a silhouette up there in the splashing and glistening water... Damian returned to the deviant’s buttocks, stepping on that rear! Stomping was more like it. At least he won a grunt! Jonathan shivered, the material that was already up his ass going further, causing additional discomfort and pain.
"How about it, nerd? Learn not to kick your legs around!"
Damian's order came after a painful minute (!) of stepping on the already bruising ass. The only freedom Jonathan had left was to continuously close and open his fists. Shrugging, Damian returned to shackling the legs. Funny how just a little doze of pain could change somebody's will. The leg shackles in place, the bully returned to the loser's back and spoke.
"You think that hurt, bitch? Honestly, I'm beginning to think this was too mean... nah, not really!"
Jonathan growled under his breath and made Damian laugh.
"Why are we even bothering with this shit? Damian, for fuck's sake! You know how this game's going to end! Once my parents notice that I'm missing they'll move heaven and earth to find me! Dad alone - and his contacts..."
His blue eyes became a death-stare.
"And why would they do that?"
Damian stepped to the computers and clicked his way through the system until the screen turned black, Jonathan's voice (HIS voice!) erupting from way too many speakers.
"Mom? Dad? It's John. Listen, mister Warner's really screwing us with that chemistry-exam! Didn't think it, but even I'll have to invest some effort into studying. Rob and I are hard at work at his house to get somewhere. May have to stay over night. I'll let you know!"
Silence came. Jonathan froze, his face like snow.
"H-how...?"
"Just goes to show what you're capable of if doctor-tech is on your contact-lists." Damian threw back his head and laughed. He cracked his knuckles and looked across the own shoulder. Then he gave one hell of a tug to the waistband.
"No more playing around, it's time for you to enter hell. You should get a feel for atomic wedgies..."
Wayne's eyes absorbed eagerness, those of his victim filled with buckets of dread and fear. Oh. Fucking. Shit. Jonathan tried his best to escape the shackles, though all it did was to drive the wedgie in deeper. Okay, sure, he'd never liked Damian much, but so far he'd at least believed him to be sane. And now Damian had fucking lost it. Giving him an atomic wedgie? What the fuck? No fucking way! Desperation was an armor around his body - he tried to pull those damn shackles out of the ground. He couldn't move any longer, Wayne's cruel laugher behind him.
"The fuck are you laughing at?"
Jonathan spat, turning his eyes to see his captor.
"I mean - it's nothing, really. Just... looking at you flailing around..."
Damian, of all people, wasn't able to keep from laughing once more, like a damn hyena. How could this be real or fair? Rolling his eyes, Jonathan growled, going back to trying to escape - was hard to stay focused when a hand made it to his briefs' waistband.
"Oh, come on, you nerd! I told you that you'd get an atomic wedgie - so that's exactly what you're in for!"
Oh-oh. Kent didn't dare to meet his villain's gaze. All humor and relaxation had spilled out of Damian's voice. Even worse: Wayne placed his other hand on the waistband, too. Holy shit, holy fucking shit! Kent's mind went wild.
The fucker's serious! Please, god, don't let him, please...
Jonathan's thoughts couldn't take form - wouldn't, due to the huge amount of pain coming from his butt.
"DAMI-EEEH!"
Jonathan's voice became a squeak. His bully was pulling the waistband higher and higher, until said thing reached the nerd's shoulder blades. And this was where Damian kept the waistband, wanting to give his victim a rest, having the pain engulf him. Evil's chuckle was in Wayne. Really? Jonathan's eyes were becoming watery - the first tear breaking through.
"You goddamn asshole! What's wrong with you? What on earth did I do to deserve this? That was a killer, you freak," Jonathan said, placing venom in his voice while talking to the bully.
"Take all that sand from your vagina, lady!"
Damian shook his head.
"This isn't even the atomic wedgie that I had in mind," he said, moving to sit in front of this nerd's cuffed hands, the stretched out waistband in hand. Life was really weird, he thought. Damian looked at the briefs that were causing their wearer so much pain. So plain and normal. Soft, fresh, in good condition, but still... the idea that Jonathan had probably picked this underwear without a care in the world, because they were his favorites or something... that sure was amusing and made this domination even sweeter. Damian was in 7th heaven. Never ever did he want this to end. This was pleasure beyond what even his so-called genius father would be able to understand. "Oh... no... Jonathan, this, right here, is the ATOMIC WEDGIE!"
Damian roared and yanked the waistband over the victim's head! Next thing Damian knew was that he heard a piercing scream, that erupting from the young wannabe-superhero. Was Damian's sadism satisfied? Well, not really. Now he set the waistband, that was at the ripping point, over Kent's head. Hell, the leg holes, too, were stretched way (way! beyond their limits, showing off some of Jonathan's back. But why did the victim continue to scream? Befitting a nerd, true, but what kind of superhero was that dork? Was Superman even really his father?
Wouldn't have thought that it hurt that much... Well, perhaps this was Jonathan's first real wedgie. Should A bear complain about honey? Wayne delighted in the scream. Then, after two decades, the scream died down. And the defeated murmured, whispered to himself:
"Ow... ow... ow... that really was a killer. Holy shit, that's the worst thing I ever felt - it STILL hurts..."
"Oh, get over yourself, man! Suck it up, dude. Get ready for the worst to come."
Fuck, Damian sounded like a child awaiting the Playstation 5 It'd begged for all year. Jonathan looked at the ground. His ears felt like flames. How had it come to this? "Please... please... stop it, Damian... that... hurt... and really bad, too... please, don't do it again!"
Cold or not, the ground beneath him felt like razorblades. That he was reduced to begging - begging DAMIAN WAYNE, of all weirdos. Hearing soft chuckling from above, Kent knew that Damian was throwing himself another party. A slight smile on his lips, Damian tilted his head to the side, hands on hips.
"Oh, but you're sooo much fun to play with!"
Ok, fuck that shit. Jonathan took what guns, explosions and knives he had and lit them up in his glare.
"You're nothing but a fucked up crazy person! You're a piece of shit! I'm pretty sure the word sadism's too good for you! Fuck off!"
He knew he'd fucked up as soon as the words had slipped from his mouth. Damian returned to the bruising butt and... pulled down the nerd's pants - to his knees. Kent's face lit up crimson. A breeze made it to his exposed backside. This sight caused Damian to laugh even louder. The light pink backside with the briefs wedged in-between his buttocks.
"How about you apologize for having such a dirty mouth, you dork."
When had Wayne adopted such a principle-voice? Jonathan literally felt ashamed for a moment - until he punched that crap right where it belonged.
"Like hell, you psycho!"
What but his defiance did he still have?
"What a genius..."
Damian’s voice trailed off. And Jonathan heard nothing anymore. Looking around, he attempted to find out if Damian was behind him - but Kent stopped! This only twisted the stretching briefs, increasing the pain he was still in. Looking ahead again, Jonathan closed his eyes, swimming in helplessness. There was a slight jingle of chains. The fuck was this freak planing with his legs? Unless...
"NO, YOU FUCKING WON'T," he yelled, knowing what Damian was going for. Indeed, Damian had made it behind the loser, at his legs chained to the ground - and those chains were long for a reason. Nobody could expect the son of Batman to take kindly to someone's dirty mouth. Using his right foot, he spread open Jonathan's right leg, driving the briefs further in. Oh, this party was no longer just happening at the back-door - now the most sensitive area of the human body got involved as well. And the pressure, the spreading, continued, agonizing scream here or there. Having the right leg in position, Damian had achieved it: Now Kent's legs looked like an "L". Okay, Jonathan was crying. He couldn't handle this pain, not even a little bit. The blazing feeling from his butt was awful! Now the briefs were riding up his front, slowly, which made things all the worse. Why even bother to TRY controlling his tears at this point? Feeling Damian moving his other leg, Jonathan screamed again. Such pathetic sound was foreign to his ears. Now the underwear was FULLY up his front, a major breaking point. And Damian sat down on Jonathan's back, right above his butt. Though he slowed down his breathing, Jonathan kept his whimpering.
"What... what are... what you're going to do now... Damian?"
What that really HIS voice? Kent sighed and tried to hold back his sobs of pain. Damian raised his shoulders in a shrug.
"How sheltered are you? Even you must have heard of spankes, right? Heard that stuff's even worse when a wedgie is involved!”
Reaching behind himself, Damian pulled out a capsule, that thing looking like a pill or tic-tac. Throwing it forward, smashing both hands against it, Wayne brought about a cloud of gray smoke (and it smelled like burned paper). And, Wayne enterprises be thanked, a paddle materialized "out of nowhere", landing in the evil boy's hand.
"This, my poor, dumb and weak friend, is where the FUN begins," Damian said, pouring bathtubs of sadism into his voice, and swung the paddle down onto the bared butt of his captive - the result to each swing was a gift in of itself. Each "step" on this ladder was a yell of pain. Finally, ending the honeymoon-period, Damian took a look at the image in front of him. Jonathan Kent, of all, doing the splits, allowing the underwear to rid up mister-loser's front, a double wammy of both discomfort and soreness. And having that douche in an atomic wedgie, spanking like there'd be no tomorrow... Wayne flashed a grin of white teeth. And Jonathan twisted his head, wanting to find out what the hell was happening. And then it happened. Damian shoved his "heel" in-between the loser's ass cheeks! Pulling the ripped briefs was all it took, really, but also separating the bruised and sore backside just made matters worse. Screaming, Jonathan could have sworn that he heard his tormentor's voice. "Hope that didn't hurt too bad, well, not really!"
