WARNING: This story is Mature. This chapter is most definitely Mature. It contains extremely disturbing themes concerning sexual material. There is non-con involved.
Chapter 5
If there was one downside to getting to actually spend his nights as a super hero, it was sleep deprivation. Of course, if it weren't for his duo lifestyle, that wouldn't be such a problem, but as it was he often had to develop some odd schedules to get his homework done, find time to sleep, and time to help Batman either in patrolling or down in the cave. So it was not very surprising that, even with the caffeine of a cup of cocoa he was falling asleep over his homework one night. Actually, it was more surprising that his tiredness probably had more to do with the late hour rather than recent extra circular activities; it was the middle of the week after all and ages since the last patrol.
Dick drained his cup, rubbing his eyes in an uncoordinated stupor and thought he really should thank Alfred for leaving it for him sometime. He glanced at the clock and saw it was a bit past ten, earlier than it felt but certainly late enough to get to bed on a school night. Still, he had a chapter to finish reading, a chapter that should have been read already if he hadn't spent half the day brooding about Violet Myra having spent the day at the mansion. The day, and now the night, a thought that was enough to make him gag. No matter how loudly that woman went on about sleeping in separate rooms, Dick just knew they were sleeping together. He shook the revolting image from his mind and tried to concentrate on history, but when he found himself reading over the same blurred sentence five times he finally gave up.
He stumbled a bit as he stood up to stretch, feeling uncomfortably out of control of his own body. It was disconcerting to someone who spent their nights relying upon their gymnastic abilities and he shook his head to try and clear it. He must make sure not to let himself get so exhausted when he went on patrol, it wouldn't do to be stumbling about the streets of Gotham. Without even bothering to change for bed, he climbed under the covers and switched off his light. The chapter could wait until morning.
He had the jungle dream again that night. He was trapped in a mess of writhing green vines; they were wrapping about him like snakes, holding down his arms, creeping about his neck. It was like being captured by Poison Ivy all over again, waiting to see if he would be rescued, unable to breathe while the world slowly turned black. But Batman wasn't there, and neither was Dick in his Robin outfit. He was just himself, alone in a jungle of green vines sprouting purple flowers, flowers that wafted the stench of violets. And the dream grew darker. Now the vines were creeping, not strangling him but climbing over his body, pulling at his clothes. Dick gasped, squirming away as more vines began to push beneath the waistband of his pants, but there were too many too escape. He was trapped, held helpless, while vines roamed his body.
The worst part was when it felt good. He didn't want it to feel good; in that inexplicable dream way that he sometimes felt things, he just knew that he didn't want the pleasure and therefore it was bad. It was easier when the vines had been squeezing him, trying to hurt. He felt like he could struggle against that, but there wasn't any way to struggle when they were just sort of there, caressing him. The vines grew heavier, wetter somehow like it was raining, or perhaps it was his own tears now pulling in his eyes. He smelled violets everywhere.
And it wasn't vines anymore, it was that awful sea. The water was hot and soft and pulled him down until he couldn't breathe. Dark and horrible and heavy. And then the sea and the vines were gone.
He did not wake up. His dreams sunk deeper and deeper, to places where sunlight never reaches and tentacled kraken writhe in the dark secret depths. When he finally woke, foggy and disoriented, he did not feel rested.
He did not eat breakfast that day. Myra was at breakfast, still wearing her sickening perfume and Dick almost threw up at the table. Alfred remarked that he looked a bit green and suggested he stay home. Myra was quick to offer her motherly assistance, checking for a temperature at which point Dick did throw up, right into her ample bosom. She backed off after that and it cemented Dick's status as ill. It turned out he needn't have stayed up so late finishing that chapter after all.
A few hours later, Poison Ivy struck.