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From: Ann Douglas <annd@pop.tiac.net>
Subject: {AnnD}RP"Batgirl & Supergirl"( FF )[1/3]
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The following is a work of erotic fiction and
includes scenes of consenting adults engaged in
sexual activities. It includes characters that are
copyrighted by DC Comics. This story is
intended for the non-commerical enjoyment of the
author and her friends. No copyright infringement is
intended and no profit will be made from the
distribution of this story.
Hello once again. As in the past, comments are both
appreciated and encouraged. Suggestions are also
welcome. Please respond by E-Mail as it makes it
easier for me to get your reaction. One
thing I do ask is that you now include your first
name and age in your comments. It gives me a
better idea who my audience is. Thanks and enjoy
the story.
The Comic Stories Should Be Read In This Order
Robin And The Catwoman
Robin On Patrol
Batgirl And Robin
The Erotic Adventures Of Supergirl
Cape And Cowl - The Adventures Of Supergirl And Batgirl
Cape And Cowl
The Erotic Adventures of Supergirl and Batgirl
Part One
by Ann Douglas
“Mayday ... Mayday ... Mayday...” the pilot
of the small jet said in a controlled voice as he
struggled with the controls of the crippled aircraft.
“This is Gotham Air Two-Zero-Niner declaring an
emergency!”
Those simple words brought fear to the heart
of Jim Lee. In all his twelve years of flying,
including almost a hundred combat missions during
the Gulf War, he’d never had to declare an
emergency. Three minutes ago, just as he’d made
the leisurely turn that would line his plane up for the
approach into Washington’s National Airport, a
sudden explosion had ripped through the starboard
engine.
Thousands of hours of flying time helped
avert any sense of panic as he quickly increased
power to the port engine and tried to keep the
aircraft intact long enough to make an emergency
landing.
“Brace yourself.” he said to the smartly
dressed young woman who occupied the co-pilot’s
seat. “This is going to be a little rough.” Lee
added, trying to be reassuring.
In the split second he had spared to look into
the emerald eyes of his sole passenger, Captain Lee
had been surprised to see no trace of fear in the
redhead. It was as if the young woman faced life or
death situations all the time, secure in her
acceptance of an uncontrollable fate. In a way it
made him feel more secure as well. The last thing he
needed right now was a hysterical right-seater.
Glancing up from the instrument panel and
then out the window, Jim’s eyes fixed on the rapidly
growing image of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge.
Rapidly he ran the numbers though his head and a
small smile filled his face. Once they cleared the
bridge, which he judged they would be able to do,
they were home free.
“Almost there...” he said as the altimeter
continued to drop.
What measure of confidence he felt,
evaporated in a second as the airframe suddenly
rocked once again. Jerking his head to the left, a
look of horror filled his face as he saw the small
jagged hole that now appeared in the port engine.
“Oh shit.” he whispered, all color drained
from his face.
“We’re not going to make it, are we?” the
redhead said, no longer worried about breaking the
pilot’s concentration.
Jim Lee’s eyes glanced down at the now
spinning altimeter and the bridge before them. They
were dropping like a rock. It was no longer a matter
of clearing the bridge. If anything, they’d be lucky if
they didn’t take out a dozen cars when they crashed
into it.
Resigned that there was nothing more that he
could do, he turned and faced his passenger. No
sound issued from his lips, but the look of
resignation in his eyes was all the silent answer she
needed. Just as quietly, the 26 year old mouthed a
prayer that the end would be instantaneous.
Suddenly. Incomprehensibly. The
encompassing view of the bridge suddenly dropped
below the horizon as the small aircraft rose once
more into the sky. It took a moment for the two of
them to realize they were still alive. It was a dozen
more heartbeats before they dared considered asking
themselves how could they be with both engines
destroyed.
Before they could say a word to each other,
they found themselves on the ground at National
Airport. Instinct took over and they quickly exited
the aircraft, right into the arms of the emergency
crews which were already surrounding it.
“I guess it’s safe now to ask...” the young
woman said. “Why aren’t we dead?”
The answer came in the form of an athletic
blonde haired woman who walked out from under
the damaged starboard wing. 5’7” and about 120
lbs, she wore a tight fitting blue shirt which topped a
red skirt and matching red boots. A equally bright
red cape draped across her shoulders. Situated
across her rounded breasts was an irregular red and
yellow pentagon with a stylized "S" in it.
“Supergirl!” the redhead exclaimed.
“Are the two of you all right?” the Girl of
Steel asked as she reached the front of the plane. “I
didn’t have much time to be gentle if I was going to
keep you from becoming an unwelcome decoration
on a National Monument.”
“We’re fine, and thankful beyond words.”
Jim said as he stepped forward and extended his
hand out in welcome. “Jim Lee, pilot and from now
on, your number one fan.”
“That’s better than any reward.” Supergirl
smiled as she accepted his outstretched hand.
“And let me add my own thanks.” the
woman in the conservative business suit said as she
reached out as well. “Barbara Gordon.”
Automatically, Supergirl shifted her attention
to Barbara as she had done with a thousand thankful
recipients before. Abruptly, the Kryptonian froze as
she focused on the attractive young woman for the
first time.
Barbara noticed the sudden pause, unsure
what to make of it. She waited a few moments, then
asked.
“Is something wrong?”
“I’m sorry.” Supergirl said, snapping out of
her momentary daze. “I thought you looked
familiar, that’s all.”
“Maybe you saw me on CSPAN.” Barbara
replied. “Although as Gotham City’s most junior
Congresswoman I usually get on opposite most of
the late night lineup.”
“Congresswoman Gordon, of course.”
Supergirl smiled. “I’ve read some of your speeches.
They were very impressive.”
“I’m flattered.” Barbara said.
“Well I’m just glad I was able to be here
when you had your accident.” Supergirl said as she
began her own well rehearsed speech. “The country
needs people like you.”
“I’m glad you were as well.” Barbara
replied. “But I’m afraid it was definitely not an
accident.”
“I don’t understand.” Supergirl said.
“One engine exploding is an accident.”
Barbara explained. “Two is a statistical anomaly.”
With that, the Girl of Steel turned and
focused her amazing vision on the twisted remains
under both wings. Layer by layer, inch by inch, she
surveyed the mangled metal.
“I’m afraid you’re right.” she reported.
“I’m picking up almost untraceable amounts of
explosive residue. They’d be invisible under normal
investigation.”
“I’d expect that.” Barbara said, amazingly
calm for someone discussing what was supposed to
be the instrument of her own death. “If we’d gone
down into the Potomac, as was undoubtedly
planned, it would’ve been written up as a tragic,
inexplicable accident.”
“You sound like you have a good idea who
planted those explosives.” Supergirl said.
“Not enough to convince the FBI.” the
Congresswoman replied. “Not even with two other
members of Congress having had similar, more fatal
accidents in the last eight months.”
“Well I’m not the FBI.” Supergirl said,
suddenly very interested. “Convince me.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have any real proof.”
Barbara went on. “I just find it too coincidental that
both of them and I were on that fact finding trip to
Qurac last year. The one that led to Congress’s
resolution condemning Qurac for exporting acts of
terrorism.”
“Qurac, that’s a nasty bunch.” Supergirl
noted. “But wouldn’t simply blowing up your plane
be more their style.”
“That’s true.” Barbara agreed. “But what
information I’ve been able to come by suggests that
this is a contract job. A group of mercenaries led by
a woman called the Crimson Rose.”
“I’ve heard of her.” Supergirl replied. “As
bad as the Quraci’s are, she’s worse.”
“Definitely.” Barbara agreed. “And this is
exactly her style. She wanted us to know that we
were going to die. She gets off on the fear she
creates in others.”
Supergirl took a few steps away, lost in
thought for a few moments. She had only planned
to be in Washington for a few hours, just long
enough to drop off a heart for a transplant at George
Washington University Hospital. Now she had a
new goal.
“If you’re right, you can be certain that she
doesn’t suffer defeat gladly.” Supergirl noted.
“In order words, I should expect another
attempt ... and soon.” Barbara agreed.
“Exactly.” Supergirl said with
determination. “And when they do, I’ll be there.”
A look of concern flashed across Barbara’s
face. For some reason, the prospect of having the
Girl of Steel as a bodyguard seemed to bother her.
A strange reaction for someone who’s life was in
obvious danger.
“I’m afraid that’s not a good idea.” Barbara
said. “I can’t really explain why, but I can’t let
people think I’m running away from what everyone
tells me is an overactive imagination.”
The Congresswoman’s heart was racing,
Supergirl noted. A tell tale sign that she was hiding
much more that she was telling. Still it was her
business, her life. She couldn’t be forced to accept a
bodyguard.
“I assume you don’t have any objection to
my spending a few days in Washington and taking a
little look around?” Supergirl asked.
“Of course not.” Barbara smiled, a smile
that hid many secrets.
With that, the Maid of Might was gone.
Ten minutes later, Supergirl found herself
drifting among the clouds. Barbara Gordon had
made quite an impression on her for a number of
reasons. Even if there hadn’t been an attempt on her
life, she would’ve wanted to find some reason to
spend a little time around Washington and try to get
to know her better. Kara had been taken aback
when she first saw the Congresswoman. Not that
Barbara would have any way of knowing it, but she
was almost a twin for Supergirl’s first lover. At
least what the Kryptonian thought her friend Zara
would have looked like if she’d had the chance to
grow into womanhood.
Sadly, among all the children of Argo City,
only Kara Zor-El, known to the people of Earth as
Supergirl, had the chance to grow to adulthood.
The children of Argo, like their parents, had died
when the protective shield around their small
spaceborne city had been shattered by a thousand
meteor fragments some eight years past. Only her
father’s foresight to have constructed an escape
rocket, patterned after the one that brought her
cousin Superman to Earth years earlier, had enabled
her to survive.
It hadn’t been easy adjusting to life on Earth.
Unlike her cousin who had come to this alien world
as an infant, Kara had lived the first 15 of her 24
years as a normal, that is non-super girl. Although
taken to heart by the people of Earth as one of their
super powered protectors, Supergirl had felt apart
from them in many ways, especially in those relating
to love.
Relationships are hard when you can, as the
saying goes, bend steel in your bare hands. Actually,
as Supergirl had corrected herself many times, it was
difficult when you were a woman and had abilities
far beyond those of mortal men -- or women.
It had been almost two years since Supergirl
had her last serious love, Susan Wienczorkowski.
An officer on Metropolis’s Special Crime Units, she
had died in the line of duty while, Kara was halfway
around the world fighting a fire that had already
devastated half a town in Germany. The loss had hit
Supergirl hard and for a time she blamed herself for
not being there when it mattered. But with time, she
finally accepted the counsel of her older and more
experienced cousin. You can’t save everyone, he
constantly reminded her. Not even when the one
you can’t help, is the one that matters the most.
After that, Kara had little success with either
men or women -- contenting herself with a series of
meaningless flings. It was funny, she sometimes
considered, how many of them had occurred with
fellow costumed adventurers. It had to have
something to do with the life style. The most
interesting of these brief relationships, she thought,
had been with J’onn J’onzz. Known to the public at
large as the Martian Manhunter, he was also an alien
visitor to this world. With a compatible humanoid
physiology, J’onn was perhaps the second most
physically powerful man on the planet. Her cousin
Kal occupied the first position. Unlike Superman,
on whom she had once turned her x-ray vision on
one night out of curiosity, J’onn had a 10” cock that
was as thick as a baseball bat. That being the case,
who cared if it was green.
It had been fun while it lasted. The
relationship had paled however outside of the
bedroom. By Earth calendars, Kara had been 22
years old at the time. J’onn, according to those
same human measurements, was almost a century
old. They just couldn’t relate to each other very
well once they were out from under the sheets.
Still she ached for another relationship that
would again send her heart afire with excitement.
Whatever instincts she had, told her that Barbara
was that type of woman who could do that. From
the very first moment she seen her, she seemed the
embodiment of every woman she had ever desired.
Even now she could still savor the scent of her
perfume, a delightful flowery aroma that conjured up
images of virgin gardens and lost summer nights.
Of course she reminded herself, there could
be a dozen flaws in her thinking. On the top of the
list, the very strong possibility that Barbara might
not be interested in other women -- a very common
trait for women of this culture. Unlike her native
Krypton where gender was less important than
feelings.
But those were questions for later. First she
had to find the ruthless bitch who wanted to see her
new infatuation dead. After thinking about it a few
minutes, she knew exactly how to track her down.
Soft as a feather, Kara set down on the top
ledge of an apartment building across from the
Quraci Embassy. By international law, the large red
brick building just a few hundred feet away was
protected by territorial sovereignty -- literally it was
a piece of Qurac. Diplomatic immunity protected
both the inhabitants and what ever secrets the
hundreds of file cabinets within might contain. All
of which meant absolutely nothing to the determined
young woman standing in the warm afternoon
breeze.
The Quraci Embassy had been protected
from unwanted surveillance by several million
dollars worth of security precautions, both human
and electronic. All of this was useless against a
person with x-ray vision, super-hearing and almost
unlimited patience.
Floor by floor, office by office, Supergirl
scanned each carefully guarded secret. In addition,
every incoming and outgoing phone call was as clear
as if Kara was an invited participant. It was only a
matter of time before she found the particular secret
she sought.
Barbara Gordon finally returned to her
apartment in downtown Washington. With the
almost crash as the lead on the evening news, the
FBI finally took an interest in the case. In fact, the
President himself had called to ask about her
condition. But all of it had been merely political
showmanship. The agents who had interviewed her
and Jim showed no real interest in her theories
concerning the Quraci’s. After all, to them she was
still only a temporary Congresswoman, appointed to
fill out an unexpired term. She hadn’t even been
elected in her own right.
Rest assured, the men in the dark suits and
sunglasses had told her, the entire resources of the
federal government would be put behind the search
for what really happened. Then they had sent her on
her way, certain that their interest wouldn’t last
longer than the next day’s evening news.
Checking in with her office, Barbara had
been likewise reassured by Tim Murray, the chief of
staff she had inherited from the late departed
Congressman Stephen Jefferson, that everything was
under control and there wasn’t even any need for her
to stop by. For perhaps the hundredth time, Barbara
promised herself that if she did manage to get
elected in her own right in November, there were
going to be major changes in that office.
Right now however, she had more important
things on her mind. The people who wanted her
dead were still out there. If she thought about it,
she knew that any other member of Congress
would’ve quickly gone into hiding, demanding FBI
or Secret Service protection as they did.
That wasn’t her style. Barbara Gordon had
fought her own battles all of her life. Most of them
in situations that few of her colleagues could’ve ever
imagined.
Moving into the bedroom, the tall redhead
quickly stripped off her business suit and the equally
conservative undergarments beneath them. Standing
in only her panties in front of the dresser mirror, the
Gothamite was reminded that periods of extreme
danger had always left her incredibly aroused.
Today’s near fatal incident had been no different.
Gently she ran one hand across the lightly
covered red bush between her legs while her other
hand laid across her breasts. The lean athletic form
the 26 year old had worked so hard to develop back
in high school and college was still very much in
evidence. Her breasts weren’t very
large, but they stood on their own without support.
Many times over the years she’d been told they were
near perfect globes. She played with the pert nipples
for a few moments, smiling as they sprang to life.
They had always been very sensitive and given her
current state of arousal, it took only a soft touch to
bring them to erectness.
Barbara lost herself in the sensation of her
own touch. Eyes tightly closed, she slid her hands
down across her breasts one last time and over her
flat stomach. Coming to a rest when they reached
the small white triangle between her legs. Using both
hands, she rubbed against the soft material. A soft
sigh escaped her lips in response to her caress.
Sliding her fingers beneath the waistband of
her panties, she provided a deeper touch. Now
Barbara’s breaths came in shorter gasps as she slid
first one, then two fingers inside of herself. In due
time a third finger would follow.
Faster, deeper she rubbed, manipulating
her clit and covering her long, slender fingers with
her wetness. Eventually the small cloth of her
underwear became too restrictive and was also
discarded. A few more minutes of play brought
forth a small but enjoyable climax. Yet in the quiet
aftermath of her pleasure she knew it to be an empty
reward.
She hadn’t had a lover since leaving Gotham
City some eleven months ago. Sure the work she
was trying to do was important, she kept telling
herself. More important than anything she could
accomplish back home. Yet this was a strange city
where being in the public eye meant you had little or
no private life. There were times she regretted
taking the appointment when it was offered to her.
One of the most common times was when she
crawled into bed each night alone. She had grown
very tired of only having a piece of plastic and a few
D cells as her only company.
Not that there weren’t a great deal of men
around her all the time. She was, in truth, quite an
attractive woman. But it hadn’t taken more than a
few innocent dates for her to learn that most of them
were more interested in the Congresswoman in front
of her name and what that title could do for them.
Reluctantly she had pushed her social life aside and
concentrated instead on learning the ropes on her
new job. Only to be checked at almost every turn by
her own staff. Give it time, they kept telling her.
You have to learn how to walk before you can run.
Her social life wasn’t the only thing Barbara
had left behind in Gotham. Unknown to all but a
select few, especially those who had proposed her
selection to replace Congressman Jefferson, there
was quite another facet of her personality. One
which would have made them reconsider their
opinion that she was a safe candidate that would
simply toe the party line until they could get a
professional on the ballot.
“Screw them all!” Barbara shouted to the
empty air as she finally lost her temper.
A fiery rage flushed though her body as she
stormed into the bathroom and turned on the hot
water in the shower. A thousand thoughts raced
through her mind as she stood under the rushing
water, washing away the grime of the day’s
adventure. The central theme of her train of thought
was that someone had tried to kill her today -- now
what was she going to do about it.
Quickly drying herself once out of the
shower, she concluded that there was little that
Congresswoman Gordon could do. That aspect of
her personality however, was quickly being replaced
by a much older one -- one a great deal more
dynamic.
“I guess I wasn’t making as much of a
difference as I thought.” the naked beauty thought
as she stepped into the bedroom, realizing that she
had already made her decision.
Moving to the red brick wall that the builders
had left when they remodeled the old building,
Barbara reached up and pressed the center brick on
the top row. Silent servos came to life as the brick
wall separated in two, forming an entranceway to a
concealed room beyond.
When she had first made the decision to
relocate to Washington, Bruce Wayne had offered
her this apartment in one of the buildings owned by
Wayne Enterprises. He had explained about the
hidden room and how she could use it to hide that
which she wanted to keep away from prying eyes.
At the time, she’d laughed at the idea that she would
drag her past along with her as she set out on what
she termed a great adventure. Still, to humor Bruce,
she had allowed him to set up the room in case she
ever needed it. Now it seemed that Bruce had
known her better than she knew herself.
Not that she found that thought very
surprising as she stepped into the inner chamber and
the entrance closed behind her. People had been
underestimating Bruce Wayne for twenty years. To
the world at large, he alternated between the image
of a playboy and the head of one of world’s leading
industrial giants. What few had ever saw, because
he didn’t wish them to see, was that beneath those
dual guises he wore another mantle. The mantle of
the bat. Bruce Wayne, was the scourge of
Gotham’s underworld known as The Batman.
As the lights of the small antechamber grew
to life, the paraphernalia around her gave testament
to the fact that like Bruce, Barbara had also worn
the mantle of the bat. For the last few years,
Barbara Gordon had been Batgirl.
The room around her was almost an exact
duplicate of the one she had designed herself in her
original apartment back home. Bruce was good for
that, recreating familiar surroundings. He’d even
had the main rooms of his family’s suburban estate
recreated on the top floors of the Wayne Tower
when he shifted his operations to downtown
Gotham.
A small dresser contained a collection of
plain white sports bras and panties. Barbara had
never really checked before but discovered that both
were exactly her size. That was another thing that
Bruce was really good at estimating.
As she put them on, Barbara slightly
regretted that she never really took the time to find
out what else Bruce was really good at. Of course
that was the state of arousal talking she knew.
There was no way she could’ve had an affair with
Bruce Wayne. Not after she’d already had a
somewhat brief one with the junior partner of the
Dynamic Duo - Robin.
Adjusting the straps of her bra, Barbara
remembered how nice it had felt to have the younger
man in her bed those many mornings after they’d
gone on patrol together. It was a pity that the
relationship had faded after he left for college.
“Time to put all those thoughts behind you.”
a little voice reminded her as she shifted into what
she used to call “combat mode.”
With a practice that came back so naturally,
Barbara quickly donned the purple and gold costume
she had made what now seemed a lifetime ago. Of
course this wasn’t the same one she had worn on her
first night as Batgirl. Batman had long ago replaced
that uniform with one that incorporated the very
latest in lightweight body armor.
The soft feel of lycra against her chest
brought back a rush of pleasant memories. How
could she ever have thought she could leave all of
this behind.
Carefully she adjusted the gold utility belt
around here waist. There was no need to check
each compartment. She knew each one would
contain a duplicate of what was in her original
arsenal. That, or an updated improvement.
Finally, to complete the transformation,
Barbara reached for the tight purple and black cowl
that rested on a styrofoam head. Back in her early
days of the Darknight Damsel, she’d worn a long
haired red wig underneath the cowl to hide her own
short locks. Now her own natural hair was more
than long enough to take the wig’s place.
Once cowl and cape were securely locked in
place, the transformed Congresswoman stood before
the large full sized wall mirror.
“This is what I was born to do.” she said to
the reflection of the crime-fighter. “I’m never going
to make the mistake of leaving it behind again.”
The entire Ann Douglas collection,as well as a multitude of other great
stories can be found in the alt.sex.stories.moderated archive
If you are just looking for a part of one of my stories go to
http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year97/dec.html
For the main page with full listings go to
http://www.qz.to/~eli/erotica/assm/
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