Author's note: BATMANG AND ROBEEN
This is one of those horrible birthday failure story OTP parody gift things I wrote for somebody in 2013. I like to think I put way too much effort into it even though it sucks donkey balls.
A Spanking A Day Keeps The Riddler At Bay!
Gotham City, 1966.
Everything is unusually bright and cheery.
The audience starts booing and calling the camp lovers a cigarette-lit bundle of sticks smothered in savory, gravy-covered meatballs.
But they can go fuck themselves.
This is about the Adam West show. Yeah, a few of us out there actually like that shit. Startling, right? LOL
At stately Wayne manor, posh home of Bruce "Secretly Batman" Wayne and his youthful ward Richard "Just because we shared a bed once or twice or fourteen times doesn't mean we're secretly doing illicit things with each other; fuck Seduction of the Innocent; oh yeah and he's secretly Robin the Boy Wonder" Grayson, the pair are playing a rousing game of chess when faithful butler, Alfred, walks in with the red phone on a silver tray.
"Sir, the Batphone," says old Alfie boy, all British-like. His glasses are like seven inches thick.
"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce says, taking the phone and trying not to notice little Dickie-boy switching pawns around like mad. He just wants to win one goddamn match. Bruce takes pity on him and continues to pretend to not notice. He holds the phone to his delicate, sexy, young, rich playboy ear. "Yes, Commissioner?" he says breathily.
Over the other end the voice of Jimmie Gordon says, "Batman, thank goodness you're there! We just received a bunch of threatening riddles that we can't figure out!"
"If you can't figure them out, how can you tell they're threatening?" Bruce inquired.
"They're written in very bold red ink. Like blood. They scare us terribly!"
"OK then," Bruce says, making a face on his side of the phone. God damn, the GCPD are a bunch of morons in this universe. "Robin and I will be there right away!"
"What is it, Bruce?" Dick says, jumping up from his seat, taking the whole chess board with him. Bruce once again tries not to act like he knows it was completely on purpose, even as Dick stomps on a few of the downed pieces and kicks them across the carpet. "I hope it's trouble! I need to punch something to vent my youthful aggression that's constantly built up because I'm too ashamed of my sinful body to masturbate!"
"It's The Riddler," Bruce says, ignoring his own years worth of pent sexual frustration. "Let's race to the Batpoles and feel their deliciously hard coolness between our thighs!"
"I get to push the button!" Dick yells before Bruce smacks his hand away.
"You pushed it last time. I get to push it!"
Dick pouts. "Aw, Bruce!"
"Next time, chum."
The secret bookcase to the Batpoles opens and they jump on the wonderfully rigid poles and slide down to the Batcave to some jazzy old '60s music. It's got lots of horns. BEEERT BEEERDEEEBERTDOOOO! That's supposed to be a text impression of how the horns sound. It sounds better when you do it with your mouth through your hands. And if it doesn't you're not doing it right.
Alfred runs over and looks down with a mildly concerned expression on his face. "Oh, sirs! I forgot to inform you that Master Robin's safety pillow is still out for cleaning!"
The sound of bones crunching echo up from the shaft.
Robin screams like a little girl who dropped her ice cream while also getting backed over by the ice cream truck.
"It's OK, Alfred. He's young! He'll bounce back!" Bruce shouts up.
"Very good, sir!"
"GODDAMN IT!" Robin yells.
In the magnificent Batcave, our Dynamic Duo rush to the Batmobile.
OK, so Robin kind of limps over but he does it with a Teenage Thunderbolt's willful determination.
"Atomic batteries to power. Turbines to speed," he says energetically.
"Seatbelts on," Batman says very sedately.
"Aw, Batman! We're not pussies!" Robin protests.
"We certainly aren't, but's the law, chum," Batman says. "Besides, we want to set a good example for the children of today, don't we?"
"Yes," says Robin, hitting his fist into his palm as he is widely known for doing. "That's why we run around in garishly bright, clingy tights that expose our sweaty nethers and beat the shit out of dangerously violent psychotic criminals instead of letting the incompetent police force do it!"
"Exactly!" Batman declares.
He throws the Batmobile into gear. The engines burst with flames and roar to life.
The Batmobile goes flying forward, and accidentally through the wall.
But it's OK; they get back onto the path and head for Gotham City.
At the speed of JUSTICE!
It's very fast, so you know.
NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA
At the Gotham City Police Headquarters, home of the lamest police force ever.
The Batmobile jumps the stairs and crash-lands at the front door of the building. Batman and Robin rush inside. They don't get a ticket because everyone in the city appreciates the fact that they actually do what the police force is too incompetent to do.
Which is shooting the black people.
Oh, no wait! It's beating up the arch criminals who constantly torment the city. Sorry! Ha, my bad.
There's still very few black people in this universe. For reasons of which we shall ignore but we all know why.
(LOL IT'S RACISM NOW LET'S GO BACK TO IGNORING ITS CONTINUED EXISTENCE)
Batman and Robin burst through the door to the Commish's office.
Gordon is trying to pull Chief O'Hara's head out from a sack of potatoes.
"How on earth did you even get this stuck on yourself so badly, you drunken oaf!" he yells.
"To be quite frank with ya, Commissioner," O'Hara responds from within his delightfully potato-stinking prison," I'm not sure how I got meself dressed and here this marnin'!"
Gordon turns to see Batman and shoves the hapless O'Hara away. "Oh, Batman! Thank goodness you're here!"
He goes to his desk and displays the multiple green boxes decorated in little question marks.
"We think these are from The Riddler."
"Holy Captain Obvious!" Robin says while smacking his forehead. "Who else are they going to be from, you rejects! The Penguin?"
"Easy on them, chum," says Batman to his partner in crime fighting. "They're idiots." Batman walks over to Gordon and speaks very loudly and clearly, "WE'LL TAKE IT FROM HERE, COMMISSIONER. YOU CAN GO RELAX."
"Oh, thank you, Batman! I don't know what we'd do without you." Gordon gives a nod, then turns and goes to try and help O'Hara out of that stubborn tater sack.
"Neither do I," says Batman once Gordon is out of earshot. Which doesn't need to be very far because he's never paying attention to anything of importance half the time.
Batman picks up a box and opens it. A bunch of riddle papers fly out. They're ALL CAPS written in red lettering that does kind of look like blood, now that Batman has a better view of it.
He rubs his sexy, stubble-free chin, deep in thought. His deep thoughts totally do NOT dwell on how the Riddler's ass looks so tight and round and perfect in those silly green punctuated spandex of his.
Nope. Not at all.
(OK, maybe just a little.)
But he snaps out of it with a abrupt shake of his cowled head. "Dick! I mean, Robin! Come have a look at this."
Robin is trying to help the Commish pull the potato sack from Chief O'Hara. At Batman's summons, he lets it go and the two guys go falling backwards onto the couch. Hurrah, for the potato sack has come off!
"Saints be praised!" O'Hara cries happily. "I was startin' to hallucinate that I was a fine, fat, golden potato, sittin' at the bottom of a rainbow, whilst a bunch of wee merry Leprechauns danced around me, tossin' multicolored marshmallows into the air like it were confetti! I thought I was headin' for heaven!"
"I think you have brain damage, O'Hara," says Commissioner Gordon. "Possibly from lack of oxygen to your brain. Or maybe you're normal but I can't tell."
Meanwhile, Robin surveys the riddles as Batman reads one aloud.
"What do these have in common: Chlamydia, Gonorrhea, Herpes, Syphilis, Hepatitis."
The Boy Wonder's mouth drops open in disgust. "That Riddler! But any high schooler knows the answer to that one is YOUR MOTHER."
"And this one," Batman picks up another and reads it, "What's normally 6 inches long, easily fits in your mouth, and sometimes vibrates?"
"Holy innuendo," says Robin. "A toothbrush!"
"And the final riddle. What did the excited construction worker do when he arrived at a wet, waiting hole?"
"Easy. He dumped his load, of dry cement into it!"
"And when you put them together, you get," Batman began.
"The Motherload Toothbrush Company!" Robin finished.
"And that's where we'll find that dastardly despicable wily wordsmith! To the Batmobile again, Robin!"
Both of them ran back out the door, then jumping into the Batmobile.
Batman threw the car into reverse by accident and they went smashing into the wall of the GCPD. Oopsie. Then he drove down the stairs and hit a fire hydrant before speeding off at 2x the speed limit.
Because he could.
Because he's the GODDAMN BATMAN.
Albeit a much more kid-friendly version.
BUT NOT IN THIS CASE!
NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA
The Motherload Toothbrush Company, the now not-so-secret hideout of the nefarious Riddler and his group of henchers and one chick who's just there to be eye candy.
And what eye candy she is, mmm hmmm, titties!
Riddler is busy staring at them while he waits for Batman and Robin to inevitably show up and kick his ass. He's secretly become quite fond of getting his ass punished by Batman over the years. Call it a coping method.
He's lying on the desk on his stomach. He kicks his legs out idly, his chin resting in his hands while he stares from the boobies of his moll, the appropriately named "Busty." She's tall, blond, and vapid as hell.
"Busty, my dear, riddle me this: What do you get when you cross a bungee cord with an owl?" Riddler asks while grinning slyly.
"Um," Busty begins, her eyes going crossed with the sheer effort of concentration. Her head tilts, further and further, until she shuts her eyes and jerks her head up, receiving an acute headache. "Ow, it hurts my brain!"
Riddle lets out a freakishly high-pitched giggle. "I know thinking isn't your strong suit. I just love the way your face contorts when you're trying to do it." He jumps up. "What do you get when you cross a bungee cord with an owl? Answer: MY ASS!"
"Hey, Riddler, why you always send riddles to Batman? Ain't he gonna decipher the riddle, find our hideout, come here and then kick all our asses?" asks a distraught, nameless henchman. His name was probably Mark or Tom or something, but Riddler didn't bother to remember anything about him because he wasn't hot enough.
"Probably so, random nameless guy-person I hired. But that's part of the fun!" Riddler lets out a wild, creepy giggle again. "I live to battle wits against Batman. That's just how it is."
"Can't you take some medication for that?" the hench says.
Riddler frowns harshly at the suggestion. "No! Fuck off."
"But I don't wanna go back to jail. They make you pee in a cup and throw it on you. I saw it in a movie once. Also there's violent rape. That I experienced firsthand."
"Yeah, and most of the time it's done by the guards," adds other nameless henchman sitting by the doorway.
"That's not my problem," says Riddler. "I get to go to the crazy house instead of the penitentiary. That shit's like a fucking revolving door over there!"
His henchmen glared, pondering collectively whether or not to beat their boss to death. Or have group sex with him. The hot little cockteasing fucker.
Busty stared into space quite contently. She was thinking about peaches. Mmm, peaches. They're fuzzy, like little round bunnies. Bunnies that are actually tasty fruits. Fruit bunnies! Purple is a color.
MEANWHILE, OUTSIDE THE BUILDING
Batman and Robin had crashed the Bat-car into an alley. They'd figure out what to do to rid it off the collection of hobos after they dealt with the Riddler.
They Bat-climbed awkwardly up the wall, slowly but surely heading toward a conveniently open window.
"Why are we walking like this?" Robin asks, staring at the not-so-invisible fishing line holding his cape out horizontally, giving a false illusion of gravity being at play here.
"Because, old chum, the studio executives won't let us scale a real building," Batman says.
Suddenly the window that's really a door opens up and smacks Robin right in the balls.
"HOLY SUDDEN IMPACT!" Robin falls down, clutching his eggs. Luckily for him they weren't really walking up building or he'd have been falling to his death right about now.
"Hey, it's Batman and Robin," says a greasy looking, frizzy-haired guy with a hideous face, large teeth, and big dark sunglasses.
"Tim Burton! Funny seeing you here. Shouldn't you be about eight years old?" Batman questions.
"No, this is fan fiction. Nothing needs to make sense. Like most of my movies," Tim responds.
"Ah, that's true," says Batman.
"I like this story but I think it could be darker, more absurd. And gothic. Hey, is there any chance we can fit Helena Bonham Carter in here? Maybe as Batgirl?"
"OK, Tim, thanks for stopping by!" Batman says, pushing the window back down on Timmy's head with his foot. "Let's go, Robin."
They rush off while Mr. Burton is busy trying to get the window back open and mumbling something about another Planet of the Apes remake.
Eventually they make it to the window and peek in.
Gads, for within is a terrible sight!
It's the New 52.
HA HA, JUST KIDDING.
It was the spazzy yet lovable Riddler and his goons, up to no good in their hidey-hole of certain debauchery.
Batman and Robin smash through the window dramatically. Even though it was open. They landed on the floor, standing ready to rumble.
"Your scheme is over, Riddler! Surrender and come along quietly, and we won't have to put our feet up your asses!" says Batman in his loudest, most authoritative, most intimidating Adam We voice.
"I hope you don't because I really want to put my kawaii pixie boot up your ass, Riddler!" says Robin, doing that thing he does with his arms when he's about to hit a bitch. You know, that thing. Whatever! I know you know what is is. I can't describe it accurately enough. I'M NOT THAT GOOD A WRITER. FML.
Riddler giggles again, sticking out his tongue in that way that he does. "Boy Wonder, you're so eager to shove your lithe, boyish appendages into a hole, try these on for size. GET 'EM, GUYS!"
And then the fight starts!
Cue up that frantic jazz or whatever. In your head, of course.
Riddler's stupid henchmen go running in all directions and surround the DD, but they get kicked away by their mad combat skills. Batman punches a guy so hard, his nose shatters into twenty different pieces. Robin picks up a vase that wasn't an easy shattering fake prop one but a real one made out of real ceramic and hits a dude over the head with it, giving him an instant concussion and a ton of lost blood from all the cuts on his head. Batman finishes breaking another of Riddler's henchies femurs over his muscular knee when they realize this shit was too dark for the campy television series and they needed to STEP THE FUCK BACK BROS, THIS AIN'T THE ARKHAM ASYLUM FRANCHISE HERE!
So Joel Schumacher is brought in to direct the rest of the fan fiction and everyone starts raging, except for the shippers who figure there would now be some totes gay homoerotic Batman/Riddler going on.
AND THEY'RE RIGHT!
Because this is a gift fic, and that is the birthday poot's favest pairing, lols.
"Cue all the super gay fangirl shit that makes the belligerent Bat-fanboys uncomfortable in their pants," Shoemaker says through his bullhorn. Which he doesn't even have. He was just using his hand because he's weird like that.
Oh, Joel.
NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA
Batman and Robin finish beating the unholy fecal matter out of the bad guys and only Riddler and Busty are left.
And Busty has spotted a trail of cute little ants moving around some leftover bread crumbs, so she's become completely useless and transfixed to the table, giggling stupidly.
"Damn you, Dynamic Decimal Points!" Riddler curses, shaking his fist at them. "You and your hot asses, always ruining my witty plans!"
"They're not all that witty," says Batman.
"Yeah, actually you're like the dumbest criminal in all of Gotham because you leave clues to where you're going to be and even what robberies you're going to commit every single time. You're like the worst criminal who claims to be the smartest," Robin says and then laughs rudely.
"Sticks and stones, sticks and stones," says Riddler defiantly.
"You're also not that cute," says Batman. "You're mildly attractive, at best."
"BATMAN, HOW COULD YOU?" Riddler sobs, torn. He begins a tantrum, his pride severely wounded. "I'LL SHOW EVERYONE I'M THE MOST FUCKING CUTE VILLAIN IN BATMAN'S ROGUES GALLERY!"
His hand grabs a switch on the wall, appropriately labeled "DEATHTRAP SWITCH."
"Riddle me this, Dynamic Dipshits! How are you both like cheap Taiwanese hookers?"
Before they could answer his devious riddle, he threw the switch and a big trap door opened up beneath them. They fell.
"ANSWER: YOU'RE BOTH FUCKED!"
The Masked Manhunters fell on some precarious platforms, landing just short of falling into a pit of murky water that is filled with crocodiles and one shark and also these big spikes. The shark is also filled with dynamite. The crocodiles are filled with thumbtacks. AND NITROGLYCERINE!
Damn, how'd Riddley-Diddley get the cash for that construction? And how much time did it take to build? You gotta wonder.
But let's not care!
Riddler pops his head into view from the entrance to the pit, giggling maniacally as usual.
"How do you like my super awesome deathtrap, guys? I really wanted to play with you some more but then I had this epiphany: If I kill you, there won't be a single person in Gotham city that can solve my fucked up riddles. So then I'll be able to commit crimes even while leaving my clues and get away with them, because nobody here is smart enough to get them like you assholes can!"
"Holy lucidity, Batman! Riddler's thinking logically for a change. What are we gonna do?" Robin yells as a crocodile snaps at his cute little foot, barfing thumb tacks at it.
"Hang on, Robin!" Batman answers. "I always have some really convenient tool or something to use to help us get out of any situation. Because I'M BATMAN!" He raises his cape up dramatically.
He checks around in his utility belt for a couple of seconds.
He pulls out a device that reads "DEVICE TO GET OUT OF RIDDLER'S DEATH TRAP; PRESS BUTTON." He presses the button.
Both he and Robin are magically and obviously jump-cutted back to the above floor.
"It's good to be a beloved Marty-Stu," says Batman, wearing a smug grin. "I can get away with anything."
"Almost anything," Robin says, pointing to the sudden erect fabric nipples and massive crotch pieces that have been sewn onto their outfits.
"Is it drafty in here, or is it just me?" Batman turns and notices the ass cheeks are now cut from his Batsuit and the cape has been shortened to show it.
"SCHUMACHER!" they both yell, giving annoyed looks.
Joel turns to the camera which isn't there, looking up from fluffing out his pink feather boa, and puts a finger lightly to his lips and shrugs innocently.
Oh, Joel.
"Now to finish the Riddler!" Batman yells.
The Riddler is in the next room, savoring his supposed win with a nice tall glass of Camel Grass Juice (spiked with 179-proof absinthe), when his arch-enemies burst through the door. He spit-takes all over the place.
"WHAT THE FUCK? HOW DID YOU GET OUT OF MY DEATH TRAP?" Riddler demands.
"The same way we get out of everything! Contrived writer's conveniences!" Batman says loudly.
Vastly outnumbered, Riddler tries to run but Robin catches him and drop-kicks him over a chair. Batman runs over and grabs his legs while Robin holds his arms.
"Now we're going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget, Riddler!" Batman throws him over his knee. "And by teach you a lesson, I mean write out a spanking fetish scenario which is completely sexually motivated but then claim it's totally not!"
"And we're going to force you to wear these diapers!" yells Robin, pulling out a pair of adult-sized infant padded baby doodies with little silly prints on them and shaking them at the confused and somewhat unsettled Riddler.
"Whoa, chum. That's going a bit too far," says Batman, raising up a hand. "One fetish at a time."
"Oh, sorry." Disappointedly, Robin puts them away.
Riddler quivers beneath Batman's grip of steely justice, partly out of anxiety and partly because he's an easily excitable spaz and also kind of bi-curious with underlying BDSM tendencies. "B-Batman! Wait! Can't we talk this over?"
Batman's response is to crack him on his spandexed ass once, hard.
"YIPE!"Riddler yells.
"You'll get what's coming to you and like it, Riddler," says Batman, raising his hand for a second swat.
POW!
And a third.
WHACK!
And a fourth.
TOTAL ASS PUNISHMENT!
And a fifth and so on.
"Wait, I ran out of signs!" says the prop guy. He runs off to go paint some new ones.
Batman continues to spank the Riddler's sexy bottom as he squeals and squirms and does that creepy-cool giggling thing in between yelps of pain and cries of pleasure.
"Reform, Riddler! Give up your villainous ways and start a new life of mundane citizenry. Join the minimum-wage labor force, break your back working for rich white men who own everything already and still take food out of the mouths of starving children, submit to a weary and meaningless existence, pour out all your hard earned cash to barely meet your utilities, then pay all the rest of it to the government as taxes!"
"Gee, Batman, that sounds swell, in a way," Riddler says when Batman hesitates on his aching bottom for a few moments. "But I don't think I want to. You're just gonna have to spank the fuck out of me until I cry and beg you to stop. Like that'll happen! HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!"
"Holy debauchery!" shouts Robin. "Riddler is just too kinky! I don't think spanking alone will be enough to discipline him!"
Batman's hand of justice has gotten mighty exhausted, even as Riddler continues to laugh hysterically while chewing on his knuckle.
"Robin, bring me the diapers," Batman says.
That scares Riddler into a fit of apologizing and begging.
"OK, OK, WAIT! I'M SORRY, I'LL STOP!" he pleads, struggling to free himself of Batman's iron grip of manly Bat-molestation. For Great JUSTICE! "I won't steal things anymore or leave annoying riddles because I'm trying to be smarter than everybody. I swear!"
Batman would have released the foul fiend from his grasp, if only he wasn't really enjoying it now.
"No! You learned this lesson too late. Riddler. Now you will feel my JUSTICE," Batman says, continuing to whip the piss out of the man's lightly jiggling, spandex-kissed ass with a wide, wanton grin and his tongue poking just a little out of the side of his mouth, as Riddler makes sweet little gasping moan-giggles.
Oh, god, yes. YES. THIS IS SO FUCKING HOT.
"Oh, Batman! Your justice is so harsh, but I like it!" Riddler moans deviously. He bites down on his bottom lip to stop it from quivering. "More, more! I want to reform! Oh, god, help me to reform with your swift, unyielding hand of justice!"
"PAPA, SPANK! PA-PA, SPANK!" Batman chants, his eyes now closed and sweat beads all over his exposed chin.
"HOLY AROUSAL!" Robin cries, feeling his teeny tiny pants getting even tighter. Upon realizing in horror WHY, he gasps, trying to hide his burning shame with his cape. But it was too fucking short.
BUT I CAN'T GO ANY FURTHER THAN THAT BECAUSE HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE 15 EVEN THOUGH BURT WARD WAS LIKE FUCKING 20 YEARS OLD AT THE TIME.
So he runs to the bathroom and starts to cry in one of the stalls.
Meanwhile, keep imagining Adam West spanking the fuck out of Frank Gorshin and both of them acting really turned on.
The longer you hold this thought, the fucking funnier it gets, unless you already hate that sort of thing where you will now be barfing and wanting to murder me.
LOL
"I'M BATMAN!" Batdam groaned throatily, spending his last powerful bat-booty-slap against his foe's smarting behind. "NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA, THE GODDAMN BATMAAAAAAN!"
He dumped Riddler to the floor, where the maniacal puzzle-king began to giggle again wildly, while clutching his aching butt cheeks. "This is gonna sting for weeks," he blurts through pained laughter. "But I have a slightly less urge to commit my riddle crimes."
"Then justice has prevailed," Batman states. He folds his arms all dramatically and stoically.
Robin comes out of the bathroom with a roll of toilet paper he had been wiping his eyes with. They are all red. Also his man-panties are in much disarray.
"Are you all right, old chum?" Batman asks.
"I am now," Robin responds. He sees the King of Conundrums lying on the floor, looking sweaty and unusually serene. He is still clutching his ass. "You've managed to catch The Riddler!"
"Yes, but who knows what new criminal will show up to torment this fine city in a future date," says Batman while staring at the camera which doesn't exist.
"STOP LOOKING AT THE CAMERA WHICH DOESN'T EXIST!" shouts the director who also doesn't exist. Because this is a fan fiction.
Batman reaches out and shakes his old chum's hand vigorously.
"Gee, Batman, that was sure-"
Batman slaps the fuck out of Robin's tender young face cheeks.
"MY PARENTS ARE DEAD!" he screams. "Also, a happy birthday to you [NAME REDACTED]!"
"And many more!" says Robin after he gets back up.
Meanwhile, Riddler had escaped while nobody was looking.
THE END?!
SEE YOU NEXT YEAR, SAME BAT-TIME, SAME BAT-CHANNEL!