Bat On the Run

By Chelsea Mechelle

ChelseaMechelle@yahoo.com

 
I’m running as fast and as hard as I can through the dark alley. My boot heels are clopping noisily on the pavement like a wild filly in high gallop as my cape flutters in the breeze. My left breast, which was cruelly yanked out and exposed from my torn costume only moments ago, is bouncing and flopping up and down, slapping my cheek and chin with each frantic step I take.
 
Things just went terribly wrong, and now I could end up paying for it with my life. Huntress blew it bigtime and caused all this.
 
My costume is torn and shredded in various places, and I can feel the cool night air on one of my exposed butt cheeks. My breathing is growing shorter, quickly becoming gasps. I can feel my body freeze up as panic sets in. Nowhere to go but straight ahead. I’m so lost here. I have no idea where I am. I’ve never even seen this part of town before. I’m only eighteen, and I just started this Batgirl thing on a whim last October at a costume party. I saved Bruce Wayne from that creepy Killer Moth my first time out, and now I’m going to be gang-raped by over three dozen black men in only my second outing. These gang members are determined to have their way with me. My half-stripped body and tattered mask are only exciting them more.
 
The raucous members of the Gotham street gang, the Zombies, are trailing me, just fifty or so yards behind me. Their shouts, screams and yells are a frightening contrast to an otherwise quiet night. There must be forty males in all, mostly African-American. The image earlier of Scat, the gang’s leader, ripping my costume at my chest and pulling out my breast, flashes into my mind and sends a panicky jolt through my belly while I continue to run. He had choked me with one hand while he pumped my tit with the other, right there in front of Huntress and the gang members. My breast ballooned out of his thick black hand, and my nipple shot out and upward. I lurched my chest upward and screamed in agony. The dug of my nipple was electrified with pain and felt like it was about to explode.
 
They had taken my utility belt and had gone for Huntress. She did not go down without a fight, but she was finally stripped naked and forced to the ground because there were so many of them. Only in comic books could two superheroines, armed only with utility weapons, handle forty men. Here in real life it’s a different story, and we were overwhelmed by so many of them.
 
They held Helena down and spread her legs apart, taunting her by mocking her thick pubic bush and her fleshy labia. She is a six-feet-two, gorgeous, long-haired thirty-something brunette with impeccable fighting skills who happens to care nothing for a shaving razor. Occasionally, she shaves her armpits and even shaves her legs on most days, using her high boots as much for coverage as for protection. She’s a real rebel who goes against the grain, but she’s prone to losing her temper like she did tonight when she tried to make the bust without backup.
 
I’ve always thought she was a slut, the way she sleeps around so much, but the sleeping around is probably part of her issues. She was a Mafia boss’s daughter who as a little girl watched her family get wiped out in a mob hit at a family wedding. I was shocked when she told me how many men she has been with. She once told me about how she had sex with four guys in one night and about how she’s been with both women and men. She even talked about how she’s been tied up and sexually humiliated with bondage. But she would not want the Zombie gang members forcing sex on her against her will. That would aggravate her anger even more, and she’s been angry since her childhood trauma.  
 
The Zombies had tried to force me to unmask myself by threatening Helena. One of the gang pointed a switchblade on her exposed nipple while they held her, causing her to gasp and cry out. I began to lift my mask to give them what they wanted so that she wouldn’t be hurt. I had nearly removed my mask when she resisted with a sudden back-kick, putting her heel into the guy’s groin and flooring him. I took off running, hoping she would do the same, but I think they might have taken her down, the way she yelped as I took off out from there.
 
I keep running hard down the alley, but I hear the movement of their feet rustling on the pavement as they close the gap on me.
 
.“Hoooooo! We got us the Batbitch!” one of them yells, his voice growing closer. “We gon’ get some of that Batpussy!”
 
I must be dreaming. I can’t believe everything fell apart like this. This could be the end of the whole Bat-thing in Gotham. I wonder if Batman will ever let any version of a female bat fly again after this. Helena was supposed wait until Nightwing arrived before going in on the drug bust, but she jumped the gun and defied Batman’s orders, bringing down the wrath of the Zombie gang, forty men against two women. Batman was tying up the loose ends of a murder case that he believes is connected to Scat, the gang’s leader. He was to come in behind Nightwing, who was filling in for Tim, or Robin, who is still in high school. It was a school night and Batman made Tim stay in.
 
It was a good plan, with Batman and Nightwing, the best in the business, backing us up with heavy artillery, all the Bat-gadgets and Bat-weapons, that no criminal or even gang of criminals can stand up to, not to mention their abilities. But Helena’s temper blew it, and Bruce won’t take kindly to any of this. I’m so angry at Helena I could spit. The way I feel right now, if I get my hands on her, I’ll scratch her eyes out.
 
I continue to run for my life, pounding my boots across the pavement. I come to a fifteen-foot, chain-link fence at the end of the alley, and I hear the cheers and taunts behind me grow louder. I leap up and am quickly to the top of the fence. The tall, skinny one, the one they call LeMarcus, is the fastest. He’s right behind me now, and he leaps up and grabs at me as I go over the fence. He’s got my cape and jersey. I hear the material rip as I try to let myself fall to the other side of the fence. I am suspended on the fence in midair for a moment. I reach behind myself and tear my shredded bat jersey the rest of the way off. I hear the chinking and clanking noises as they all attack the fence, climbing and shouting.
 
I’m completely topless, with my boobs exposed, but modesty is the least of my worries right now. I can feel my bra band still wrapped around my torso, but the bra cups have collapsed under my bare bosom during the run. I’ll worry about getting my jugs in place later. I rip most of my cape off and fall to the other side of the fence into what looks like an auto junkyard.
 
I pat my head and secure my mask. I ignore my flopping, jiggling boobs as I run across the yard. I dance over car parts and look for the yard’s other fence. I turn into a long, secluded passageway, widened by two rows of piled-up cars. I sprint quickly into an open area lit by the moon. I come to a stop and hug my boobs with both arms in the faint moonlight. I am in a grassy spot the size of my living room and surrounded in all directions by piles of crushed cars stacked on top of each other as high as five-story building. I’m really frightened now. I could get trapped in here. I need to turn around.
 
I know they want to rape me, and maybe they want to do even worse to me if they find out I’m Barbara Gordon, the assistant D.A. and police commissioner’s daughter. I just started working in the DA’s office and I’m mostly a gopher. I’ve made a lot of coffee for the boss and handled his email correspondence. I just graduated from high school back in May, and Dad got me the job until I decide what I really want to do. I’ve been looking at college degree programs in English and librarianship, but all that will be for naught if I don’t make it out of this terrible mess I’m in now.
 
The Zombies all made their intentions clear before I bolted free of Scat’s grasp. They want to rape me. I’ve never heard so much lewd language from so many men at one time-some of the filthiest talk I’ve ever heard; plus, Scat was unabashedly pressing his hard crotch into my exposed butt cheeks while he choked me and pumped my breast.
 
“Here, over here!” LeMarcus yells, only a few feet behind. He startles me, and I run at a full sprint and leap onto the stacked cars, climbing as I go. I claw my way into the thick piles of old vehicles. He follows, but he is slower and not as adept at climbing as I am. I slip through an opening between crushed cars and wiggle myself, not to mention my protruding boobs, through a small space on the other side of the cars. LeMarcus and the gang are stuck in the passageway, at least for now. I shimmy down the backside to the ground, and bolt full speed along the back side of the cars toward a fence up ahead. If I can get over, I’ll get away and leave them all in here. I am almost to the fence, when I hear voices of some of the gang just around the corner on the outside of the car piles. They are between the fence and me. I freeze for a moment and then quietly duck into the gnarled mass of cars. I hope they haven’t heard me. I slip through the window of a half-crushed vehicle that barely resembles a car, a good place to rest and hide out for the moment. I slide down deep into the seat.
 
I unclasp the remains of my cape from around my neck as my breasts brush against the car’s steering wheel. The cape’s exterior is too thick and leathery to work with, but the inside lining is perfect for a homemade bra top. I quickly tear out the soft, yellow insides of the cape. I create a brassiere by knotting the material and placing the knot into my cleavage and opening the cloth over my breasts. I think I had read in the library once that the very first bra was made this way, only with a hankie. I reach my hands behind my back and tie another knot. Voila! Boobs covered and secured in place. It will be easier to run now, without flopping about, and the less the gang sees of my body the better.
 
 I take the rest of the cloth material and try to make something to cover my exposed vagina and rear end, but it took so much of the material to cover my boobs that all I can make is a skimpy thong that exposes almost my entire butt. I knot the cloth at each hip. It barely covers my pubes, and I’m worried that being barely covered may excite the males even more than being stark naked.
 
I am even more frightened because I am a virgin. I was such a nerdy, mousy, student-library worker and did not date much in high school. I had my first boyfriend just last year, my senior year, but it was kind of like puppy love, and we never actually had sex. I pleasured him in other ways besides going all the way, like on prom night when I gave him oral sex for the first time after he given me my first orgasm, using his tongue on my pussy. It was the only time I had ever been naked with a man or had seen a penis. With my small vagina, I’m terrified that the Zombies will hurt me, not only physically but mentally, and that’s if they let me live.
 
I slip out of the junked vehicle and visually scan the area. I don’t see or hear anything, so I ease down to the ground. I have the sudden urge to pee. I check in all directions, even up into the piles of junk. I squat down and spread my legs. I pull the thong to the side letting my thin cunt lips and my auburn bush rustle out. The thong’s so tight I’ll never get it back on if I lower it down past my hips, so I have to slip it to the side. I spread my tiny labia, surprised at how moist I am down there. I relax and pee onto the ground, feeling uneasy about the noisy hissing my pee is making.
 
Just as I finish, a bright light, a flashlight, breaks the darkness, illuminating my crotch and my pubic hair.
 
“Over here, we got her!” LeMarcus yells to the others, waving the flashlight. I quickly adjust my thong and take off running for the fence. It’s about two hundred yards away, alongside the piled-up cars. He’s right behind me, and he’s faster than me, but I have been resting. It’s going to be close. If I make up and over the fence, I win. If not, they are going to catch me and violate me in ways I’m sure I haven’t begun to imagine.
 
I reach the fence and leap into it. I’m halfway up with my hands and feet clawing up the fence. I’m going to make it. Maybe Batman or Nightwing are nearby. God only knows what happened to Huntress, but I pray she’s OK.
 
LeMarcus grabs my foot, but I shake him loose and sling my right leg over the fence. I’m straddling the fence now, almost home free. He grabs my left foot again and yanks me downward, impaling my twat on the twisted, metal spikes of the chain link fence. I scream in pain. I hear the hoots and shouts of the other gang members running up. My home-made thong is caught on the fence, but I lift myself up and slip down anyway, ripping a small hole in my thong . I’m shocked at exposing my cunt to him through the metal fence, but I have to for now. The ear of my bat-mask catches on top of the fence, and my cowl lifts up, unmasking me for only a second. Luckily, LeMarcus is engrossed in gawking at my tattered thong and nearly exposed vagina. He does not see my exposed face. He has a grip on my leg, but I shake free and drop to the other side of the fence, hitting the ground running. My mask pops back in place. I land in an open field with high grass, about five hundred yards wide and longer than I can see. I adjust my torn thong over my crotch as I run.
 
I see buildings not far away, the new downtown rebuilt after the earthquake. It’s good to know where I am now. I am feeling better.
 
The glittering downtown towers of the wealthy and the elite are only yards from the slums these gang members live in, a striking contrast of the gap between the city’s haves and have-nots.
 
I only have to make it through the high grass of the field. From there, I can head down Mortimer Street and on to the Wayne Foundation.
 
The tall, unmowed grass in the field slows me, but it slows them, too. My boots are high-stepping through the field as blades of grass swat my legs.
 
Only about a hundred yards to go before I make it out of this ordeal. I finally reach Mortimer Street and hear my boots clop on the pavement when I leave the high grass. I scamper past the tattered clapboard houses where impoverished African-American Gothamites dwell.
 
No one is awake here in the wee hours, and even if they were, it’s Gotham City. Chase scenes between strangers in scantily clad costumes and masks are common.
 
I run until I reach the old cemetery, the one just behind the old downtown Antioch Baptist Church. It’s too big a place to go around, so I’ll have to go through it. This should be the best place to go, until I get to the abandoned city auditorium on the other side of the cemetery. Once through the cemetery, I can go past the auditorium to Robinson Street, where Gang members don’t want to be seen near potential police patrols on open streets.
 
The old auditorium has given way to the new Gotham Civic Center, and much of the economy moved there across town, along with jobs. The job losses are part of the reason gangs like the Zombies exist, as their leaders prey on desperate young men with no futures. 
 
Right now, my future looks bleak, though I’m more hopeful than when I was trapped back in the junkyard. I hop over the short, spiked cemetery fence and run past gravestones as I hear the gang’s voices getting closer.
 
I look eagerly at the downtown skyline reaching up and overlooking the other side of the cemetery, the side I am running to as fast as I can. A smile creases my cheeks and I resist the urge to leap for joy at the possibility of making it out of here, but I stumble abruptly and violently on something. My head crashes into an upright gravestone, and I ricochet off the stone and land on my face and stomach. I raise myself up and look back to see the smaller stone, the other stone I tripped over, which is barely peeking out of the ground. The varied landscape with high and low gravestones has caught me off guard.
 
I feel myself losing consciousness, and I fight to stay awake. I hear the gang’s shouts getting closer as they leap over the cemetery fence, rushing toward me in droves. Their yells and celebratory hoops vibrate in my ears. I struggle to get to my feet, but my legs won’t move. I am flat on my back. I’m woozy in my head, like I am in a freefall from a tall building. I want to sleep, but I know I can’t let myself pass out, laid out and nearly naked like this. 
 
I wake up to find several of them, too many to count, grabbing my arms and legs. Strong black hands grab and paw all over my body while I am laid out on a large grave slab. They yank my makeshift top off, exposing my breasts and my puffy, teen nipples, which are red from the pressure of their groping hands. I look down and see they have already removed my thong while I was passed out.
 
A finger enters my virgin vagina, making me squeal with pain. I feel another finger burning into my anus. I cry and whimper. I plead with them, but they won’t stop. They are all over me. One of them digs his way through the men and underneath me, pushing his cock into my rear. I feel his rock-hard penis begin to penetrate me.
 
Another well-muscled gang member with skin as black as the Gotham night sky pulls his pants down. He swats away someone’s hand in my vagina and lies down on top of me, pumping and wiggling his hips in search for my undefiled sweetness. He forces himself between my legs. I feel him inside my pussy. His thrusts, but his big rod pops out of my tense, tight hole. He reaches down and forcefully reinserts himself in me. I shriek and cry, letting out an anxious wail through the cemetery.
 
I feel a penis press onto my cheek; another one slides between my lips. My eyes widen as I pull my mouth free and turn away in revulsion, only to find another one poking my nose and slipping underneath and through my mask’s eyehole. African pubic hair scratches and irritates my eye. I turn my head and shake my head violently, gasping for air. My hair is being pulled through the eyeholes of my mask, blocking part of my vision. I scream and the cock backs out of my cowl, but mashes onto the side of my face, grinding up and down on my cheek.
 
The other gang member underneath me pumps his hips. I scream again and thrust my hips and chest forward in an effort to free my rear end from his thrusts. I let out a deep, squealing gasp as I feel both cocks go in at the same time, one in my pussy and the other in my anus. I am tempted to bite the male organ on my cheek, but I can’t bring my self to do it. I scream in shock and agony and he pulls away, but he keeps stroking himself just inches from my face. The bulb of his cock looks like it its going to explode. I am sobbing openly now. I never dreamed I would lose my virginity this way. My hips buck uncontrollably. I feel excruciating pain, as they enter my pussy and my butthole, slowly at first, then faster. They open unexplored places deep inside me. It feels like something inside my pussy has torn and like something is on fire inside my anus. I am rocking back and forth, trying to lift myself free of the two cocks inside me, but I can feel I am only strengthening their steely erections. I feel my cervix and my colon open up. I grimace and groan from the ache I feel inside my most vulnerable places.
 
I hear the slow, heavy footsteps and loud curses of Scat, the Zombies leader, making his way through the gang.
 
“Stop, you fools!” Scat yells at them, causing them all to stop their actions immediately. I am as limp as a discarded marionette. Two of the men lift me up and hold me up by my arms. I can barely stand.
 
I am hoping and praying on the souls of these graves that Scat will see sense and free me from this nightmare. 
 
Scat is slow and obese but walks with a commanding presence. He has a wide face with thick lips and a furrowed, angry brow below his thick forehead. He is taller than most of his subordinates, but his thick barrel chest and wide waist make him appear shorter than he is.
 
He points to a female he calls Tina, one of only a handful of women in the gang.
 
“Make her feel at home,” he says. “We’re gonna at least warm our honored guest up. After all, She is the female Bat, the Batgirl. And don’t forget to smile for the camera.”
 
He looks at LeMarcus, who pulls a small camcorder from his pocket, pointing it at me.
 
“No Scat,” I plead. “Don’t do this. This is rape, and you can go away for a long time for this. And you don’t want something like this on video.”
 
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asks. “I’m sure I could make a lot from a web page of the lily white heroine gettin’ fucked by forty gang niggers.”
 
“Video could be used against you,” I say. “It could put you away in prison for a long time. You don’t want to broadcast to the world proof that you’re a rapist.”
 
I hope he buys it. I’m not as concerned about his situation as I am about my own, being publicly exposed to the camera.”
 
Scat strokes his goatee. He’s lost in thought for a moment
 
“This video ain’t getting’ out,” he says.
 
“Can you be sure of that?” I say. “For the right amount of cash, your own people would turn in the video. And Batman himself has ways of shaking down your own gang, you know that. He’d get that video and use it to put you away for good, even if it shows bad things happening to Batgirl, but especially if it has bad things happening to Batgirl.”
 
He looks down at the ground and then straight into my eyes. My hair is still dangling from the mask’s eyeholes.
 
“OK, you’ve made me see reason,” he says with a loud laugh. “We won’t film Batgirl getting’ her ass gang-fucked, but it ain’t no crime to film Batgirl’s mask comin’ off, is it?”
 
I look down, feeling a pang of sadness mixing with the tense fear in my belly. Scat steps closer to me.
 
“And Batgirl’s bare face alone will make us a shitload of money, on or off the web. These freaky crooks in Gotham would pay a fortune for a peek under your mask. You know, that Batguy sure has been nothin’ but trouble for us. I wouldn’t mind knowin’ who’s behind that mask of his to put a stop to all the trouble he’s been to us. Maybe peelin’ off your mask will tell us who he is. Who are you? Are you his bitch? Are you fuckin’ Batman? You look kinda’ young for him. Or are you his daughter? Who? Maybe it’s time we found out.”
 
I struggle to get free, but they’ve got too tight a grip on me. Scat walks over and grabs my mask. I instinctively try to snap my head away from his hand, but he gets a grip on the mask’s ear and quickly whips the cowl off, letting it slap onto the back of my neck. My auburn mane pops out of the cowl, and I turn my bare face away, almost shamefully. LeMarcus has the camera only a couple feet from my face. They’ve got Batgirl unmasked on camera.
 
Scat puts his hand under my chin and pulls my exposed face toward him. My face is frozen in a grimace, and my brows are locked in a fierce frown. The curls of my hair are bouncing onto my forehead, in and out of my eyes.
 
“Well, you goddamn little bitch. I know who you are!’ he says. “You’re the chief cop’s daughter. I’ve seen you up there at the station when I was in the tank.”
 
“No, I’m not,” I lie. “You’ve got me confused with somebody else.”
 
“Lyin’ ain’t gonna help you,” Scat says. “I can’t believe we got you, but we’re gonna have fun with you.”
 
LeMarcus steps forward, zooming in with his camcorder. I feel weak, and I sense body fluids oozing from my crotch down my legs. Sharp pains dig into my stomach, and my nipples feel raw.
 
“She works for that prosecutor,” LeMarcus adds, keeping his camera trained on me. “She does secretary stuff for him. I seen her in court when I went up ‘fore the judge.”
 
I guess the gig is up. It’s the end of Batgirl’s career. At least they can’t tie Batman to Bruce Wayne. Right now, I’m more concerned about these men having their way with me sexually. I’m also worried about Helena.
 
“Where is Huntress, Scat?”
 
  “Your tall friend?” he asks. “She is a real beauty, I’m tellin’ you.”
 
“What did you do to her, Scat?” I shoot back angrily.
 
“Oh we just had a little fun with her,” he says with a chuckle. “Don’t worry, she’s still alive and well. She’s probably got a sore pussy right now, just like you’re going to have.”
 
I push and fight with the men holding me, but one of them punches me in the ribs, and I slump back down onto the gravestone slab.
 
He orders LeMarcus to put the camera away and points to a woman he calls Tina. Tina walks over to me and bends down to stick her tongue out as the gang lets out a loud laugh. I am stunned at the length of her tongue. It must be eight or ten inches long!
 
She bends down to my exposed pussy and lashes her tongue out like a snake feeling for its prey. I twist my hips to turn away from her, but she licks on my buttocks.
 
Her tongue snakes in between my butt cheeks, startling me and causing me to jerk and twitch. I turn my hips back around, and she licks upward on my pubic hair with a long hard stroke and then back down with another curling stroke. I am whimpering and pleading with her to stop. I feel her tongue nuzzle the insides of my gash, forcing me to widen my legs against my will.
 
Her tongue stiffens, as it thrusts hard and deep into my vagina, sending shocks through my spine. I thrust my hips into her face, secretly hoping she doesn’t stop. She circles my clitoris in quick, soft strokes. My hips jerk and buck upward again.
 
“Please, don’t,” I beg, my voice quivering. My pussy is dripping with bodily fluids, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She moves up and down my body then back up to my face.
 
“Don’t fight it,” she whispers in my ear. “They took me the same way as initiation. If you fight too hard, they might hurt you. Your friend Huntress finally learned that earlier tonight. Don’t you be hardheaded like she was. Save yourself some trouble.”
 
Tina continues her work on my cunt, slopping her tongue in and around my snatch. The thrill of a woman between my legs kissing my face and breasts electrifies my spine.
 
“I’ll try to stay on you as long as I can here,” she says, “but they gonna take you soon enough. You got to accept that, hon.”
 
I think she is trying to get me ready for the inevitable. She works her long tongue down my stomach and penetrates me, deeper and faster with each thrust. I feel pain at how deep she slowly enters me, but it is a pain tinged with pleasure.
 
“No, please stop,” I meekly protest. “Don’t do this, ” My hips begin bucking and thrusting into her skilled lips. I am embarrassed and beginning to lose control, pushing my chest up and down as my boobs bounce and jiggle. The gang members’ yells, shouts, and applause echo in my ears.
 
I see Scat smile and wave his hand, a likely signal to the gang. They can all plainly see how aroused I am by her, although I don’t want to be. 
 
Two of them grab Tina and pull her off me. Several of them suddenly jump on me like players in a football game scrambling for a fumble. I am wide-eyed and shocked to be attacked like this, but I am helpless and powerless.
 
One by one almost all of them have their way with me. They put me on all fours and take me from behind, while others force me to pleasure them orally. A young, African male, eagerly mounts my chest and puts his long penis between my breasts. His cock pops quickly into my mouth before I can avoid it. He pumps it excitedly until he reaches a frenzied orgasm, splattering my throat with his warm, salty load.
 
Others, so many I lose count, mount me and rape my cunt one after another until I ache. Still others take me in my asshole, and some put their penises so far down my throat I gag on sperm that overflows onto my chin. Semen is all over my face, my breasts, my thighs, and in my crotch. When they are finished, nearly a dozen of them surround me while I lie on the ground exhausted. At least ten of them stroke their penises until they are stiff again. I see what’s coming. I try to put my hands up to shield myself, but they pepper my naked body with buckets of their cum as they all groan in loud orgasms. I jerk and react to each gush of the warm fluids splattering onto my body.
 
When it’s over, they seem to lose interest in me. I gasp for air. I’m exhausted and can barely move. I hope they are done. They walk away and leave me there. I guess they decide to let me live because of my ties to my father, the police commissioner, not to mention Batman.
 
I’m terrified for the future now. I don’t know what will happen from here on. Even if I’m finished as Batgirl, a lot of problems still lie ahead, among them my unmasked face as Barbara on the web. I could be pregnant from all this. I may even have gotten a sexually transmitted disease. A million worries flash through my mind.
 
I rest my head on the slab and let myself fall asleep in the quiet of the graveyard. For a moment, I let go of all my worries, envying the peace of the grave of the deceased all around me.
 
I am roused from my sleep, and I get up startled. It’s Helena, and she’s unmasked and barely clothed. She tells me that Batman is on the way to take us both home.
 
I confront her about her temper and her jumping the gun on the bust, which got us in this mess.
 
“Why did you do it, Helena? Are you nuts?”
 
“I’m so sorry, Babs. I guess I just lost it. I get so angry at people like that.”
 
“We all do, but if we going to fight them, we have to keep cool.”
 
“I know, I know. I’m so sorry,” she says.
 
I feel a sudden surge of anger and hate towards her. That’s what she always says when she fucks up like this. I rush her and plant a flying kick into her abdomen. She falls back onto the manicured grass. I jump onto her and grab her neck. The scene, two nude women clashing in a graveyard, would be comical if I were not so angry..
 
“You bitch,” I scream at her, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I was a virgin! It doesn’t matter with you. You’re a fucking whore anyway!”
 
I am furious and enraged.  I said it to hurt her. She seems to know this. She rolls out of my hold and grabs me. She brings my head to her naked breasts, crying and apologizing profusely. I whimper like a small child. We both hug, tearfully bawling in each other’s embrace.
 
“I was a virgin,” I moan meekly, pounding timidly on her breast. Our faces are flowing with tears, and we sniffle and sob openly.
 
“Baby, I wish I could take it all back,” she says, her voice cracking. “I never meant for you to get hurt. I got what I deserved, but you didn’t deserve what you got. I’m so sorry.”
 
She cradles my head. We lie in the graveyard, exhausted in each other’s arms until we finally hear the turbine engine of the Batmobile in the distance.
 

END

By Chelsea Mechelle
ChelseaMechelle@yahoo.com