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Batman and the impotence epidemic - Batman is infected


Nov 5, 2013
A place in Wales that you can't pronounce
Batman slipped into the side entrance to the Mayor’s official residence and climbed the stairs to the private study where the two always met. Except, this time someone else was present, the Major’s wife.

‘Batman, punctual as always,’ the Mayor exclaimed, ‘I believe you’ve met my wife.’

Batman extended his hand. ‘Of course, yes, hello again Mrs-‘

‘Maggie,’ she interrupted him, ‘please call me Maggie. It’s good to see you again, Batman.’

The Bat settled into a chair and waited for the Mayor and his wife to take the small sofa opposite. The Mayor began in his usual style.

‘I’ll come straight to the point, Batman, I know your time is valuable.’

Batman nodded.

‘The thing is,’ the Mayor’s voice was more hesitant now, ‘that is to say, what I’ve got to tell you is something out of the usual. Well, recently, my wife and I have been experiencing, how can I put this?’

Maggie came to his aid.

‘Perhaps it would help,’ she suggested, ‘if I were to explain.’

The Mayor sat back and nodded, his head down.’

‘The thing is, Batman, that recently, over the last few months, my husband has been experiencing difficulties, personal difficulties. In short, he has become impotent.’

The Mayor began to protest, but his wife cut him off.

‘No, dear, there is no guide pretending. At first, he had difficulties, but not he is unable to perform, completely unable.’

The Bat suggested that this was perhaps not something that he could help with. Maggie’s face suggested that that was not necessarily the case.

‘If this were just a personal matter, I would agree. But it isn’t.’

‘No,’ the Mayor leaned forward, determined to regain control of the meeting. ‘No, it has come to my attention that this is not just a matter affecting me.’

Maggie carried on seamlessly as if he had not spoken.

‘It has come to my attention, through conversations with other wives, that my husband is not the only man affected. The same, err, problem has affected the Police Chief, the Fire Chief, the Chief Judge and the coach of the Gotham City Football team. And,’ she added, 'Viagra doesn't help.'

‘I see.’ Batman looked thoughtful as he chose his words carefully. ‘Yes, I see, but might there not be a simple explanation. All of you,’ he gazed at the Mayor, ‘are senior men with responsibilities that must cause you worry and stress. Might that not perhaps explain your difficulties.’

‘No,’ the Mayor leaned forward intently, ‘no, Batman, that’s just it, you see. I’ve spoken individually to each of the others, once their problems came to my attention. They were not easy conversations, as you can imagine, on such a delicate matter, and it has been necessary to assure each other that what we have to say is confidential. I know that your discretion can be guaranteed, but gossip-‘

He paused and the Bat nodded.

‘Just get on, dear,’ Maggie prompted. ‘Tell him.’

The Batman turned to the Mayor. ‘Tell me what?’

‘It’s not just us. It’s others. I have not spoken to any of my officials, but it has become clear that other senior judges, senior police officers, and the captains of the fire brigade, are all similarly affected. Not to mention the entire football team.’

‘That’s what’s worrying us,’ Maggie interrupted again, ‘and why we have called you in. With so many affected it is only a matter of time before it gets out. There has already been an incident. In a bar last weekend. After the football match, one of the cheerleaders had a little more to drink that usual and blurted out that the whole team were a load of danglers.’

‘Meaning,’ Batman checked that he had understood her, ‘that none of them could get an erection, not even with the assistance of the cheerleaders.’

The Mayor and his wife nodded.

‘Just when we are doing so well in the league,’ the Mayor sighed.

‘That may not be entirely unconnected to the players having one less drain on their energy than usual,’ his wife muttered curtly.

‘Yes, indeed,’ her husband agreed, ‘the coach said the same, but it is beginning to affect the players’ morale and you can imagine what an humiliation it will be, for the players that is, if this comes out.’

‘So your belief,’ Batman summed up, ‘is that someone is causing this to happen, creating an epidemic in some way that targets only the important people of the town.’

‘And,’ the Mayor explained unnecessarily, ‘we want you to find out who is doing and put a stop to it.’

‘As soon as possible,’ Maggie added with feeling.


Nov 5, 2013
A place in Wales that you can't pronounce
Batman left the Mayor and his wife as quietly as he had arrived. Within a few minutes he had slipped down a series of narrow alleys and into the rear entrance of a small garage. He removed his Bat gear and stood for a few minutes in the small silk thong that protected his tackle from the stiff groin protector that was part of his suit, allowing the evening air to cool his hot body. Then, dressed in jeans, t-shirt and trainers, he drove back to his mansion in a small anonymous car that he used when he wanted to mover around incognito.

Only then, with his feet on his sofa and a whisky in his hand, did he look at the note that the Mayor’s wife and slipped to him as he left. It contained an address, a time, and an invitation to meet the wives of the others affected by the impotence epidemic.

But it was not only the wives of the men affected. There was also a young woman, who was introduced by the Fire Chief’s wife as, Gayle, his mistress with the words ‘After all, she is affected as much as we are.’

Maggie, as the convenor of the meeting, told the Bat that they thought they might be able to give him valuable information, if they only knew what it might be. He questioned them all about their husband’s habits, trying to detect something in common that would have allowed them to be affected. But there was none. They didn’t mix socially. They were on different medication or none at all. They did not frequent the same places.

Contaminated water supply was discussed, but the wife of the coach to the football team reported that his sister and her husband were staying with them and that the noises from their bedroom proved that his performance was definitely not affected. And Gayle volunteered that she had made discreet inquiries among her friends, who all reported that the men in their lives were all in full working order.

As the meeting was on the point of breaking up and the women began to collect their coats and bad, Wendy, the wife of the Chief Judge, spoke. Her voice was quiet, but it commanded everyone’s attention.

‘I have an idea,’ she said. ‘Mike never had a high sex drive and when he did rise to the occasion, he was never a great performer. Fortunately,’ she added as an aside, ‘I have had the distraction of my career and, when that didn’t work, the luck to have made some good friends to keep me company.’ She paused as the other women stared at each other in amazement at the revelations. ‘But,’ she continued, ‘that does not mean I am indifferent to my husband’s plight. He is a proud man, who is embarrassed for me to know his difficulty, and who would be humiliated if it became public. More importantly, and this is my point, it is affecting him mentally, distracting him in his work. His performance on the bench is suffering and he knows it, which just makes it worse. We’ve seen it in the football’s team’s performance too. They may have more energy now that they are not shagging anyone who enters their dressing room, but they barely scrapped a victory last weekend. My idea is that this is a fiendish plot to undermine the confidence and performance of the key people in our community, leaving us vulnerable to those members of our underworld that are just biding their time to take over.’

The room was silent for a while as this theory sank in and then, gradually, each woman agreed. Yes, it made sense to them. And, yes, it made sense to Batman too.

Wendy was the last to leave and, when she had collected her purse from the table by the door, a small card lay in its place.


Nov 5, 2013
A place in Wales that you can't pronounce
Wendy’s card had her cell phone number and, when the Bat rang, she gave him an address, directions a time. The apartment was located in an area in the wealthy part of town that he did not usually visit. It took Batman a while to locate the anonymous entrance down a narrow side street that led to a back staircase that brought him to the door of Wendy’s flat. It opened before he knocked and closed quickly behind him. Inside, he found a plushly furnished apartment that did not have the feel of being lived in. This must be where she met those special friends when work was not a sufficient distraction from her other needs.

‘There is something I think you should know and something I want to ask.’ Wendy came straight to the point, her tone as businesslike as her tight blue dress.

‘OK, so tell me that you think I should know about, then we’ll come to the question.’

Wendy waved to the sofa and they settled down at opposite ends as she resumed.

‘Good decision, Batman. I want you to know that Maggie and the others only know the half of it.’

‘You mean about the impotence?’ the Bat asked unnecessarily.

‘Yes, you see, well you know I mentioned my friends who helped me when I needed it. We meet here, as you’ve probably worked out already. Well, one of them – and this is just between us, obviously – is the editor of the Gotham news. He’s not married, so he doesn’t have a wife to gossip behind his back, but he used to come regularly, well as regularly as necessary. But lately-’

‘He’s not been coming,’ the Bat finished the sentence for her.

Wendy ignored the double meaning in his remark.

‘No, he hasn’t. But that isn’t all. I’d noticed over a month or so that his performance had been waning. I thought he might be going off me, until I heard the other wives tell their stories. And, of course, this explains why the story of that stupid little cheerleader shouting her drunken mouth off never made it into print.’

‘I see,’ Batman sounded thoughtful, ‘so you believe that more of the prominent men of Gotham have been affected than we know about so far. It’s just that we don’t have the means to find out who they all are.’

‘Well, in part, yes,’ Wendy had adopted the tone she used to put subordinates in their place when they were being slow. ‘But not just prominent men.’

‘You mean the women too are losing their, what shall we say, interest?’

‘Shall we say their libido,’ Wendy spoke sharply. ‘But no, it’s not that. It is their husbands and partners and lovers. Whoever is doing this is getting at them. The principal of the High School is a friend of mine and she has not had a satisfactory service for weeks now. She’s actually finding herself eyeing the older students. And one of my clients, who heads up a major law firm, confided over a boozy lunch that she was missing out too.’

‘And this supports and indeed strengthens your theory of why this is happening. The women are getting frustrated as well as the men are feeling embarrassed and humiliated. This is undermining the elite of Gotham.’

Wendy nodded.

‘Yes, you’ve got it, but not all of it yet. This brings me to my question, well concern really.’

Batman sat back and waited.

‘My concern – which I did not mention in front of the other wives, although some of them are surely bright enough to think for themselves – my concern is that there may be something else behind this. Who is the most prominent of our citizens, whose confidence someone might want to undermine?’ She did not pause for an answer. ‘’Obviously, you are.’

The Bat coughed.

‘Me? Well, yes that is true, I suppose, but no one knows my identity, so I should be safe, I think.’

‘Yes, you, Batman.’ Wendy carried on as if he not spoken. ‘My concern is that this may be a trick to lure you into a trap where you can be infected with this epidemic. My fear, my real fear, is that you may have been infected already. After all, you haven’t been seen around much lately. There was an article about it in a glossy magazine only last Sunday.’

‘Well, Wendy,’ Batman began, ‘I can assure you-’

But he got no further.

‘No, Bat, I don’t want an assurance. I want proof.’ She moved closer to him on the sofa. ‘Why don’t you show me how to get you out of this gear and I’ll show you how to get me out of this dress? And then we’ll know for sure that everything is in full working order.’


Nov 5, 2013
A place in Wales that you can't pronounce
With Batman’s clear instructions, it was surprisingly easy for Wendy to release him from his protective gear. In less than a minute, he was standing naked apart from his mask and feeling slightly awkward as Wendy’s eyes subjected him hairless, muscular body to intense scrutiny. Having reached his feet, her gaze travelled back, pausing briefly as his cock resting across his balls, before she met his eye.

‘So, Batman, when did you last fuck?’

Batman faltered in answering so blunt a question.

‘Well, now, let me think, yes that would have been five weeks ago now, just over actually.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘Right, yes,’ Batman was not used to being on the receiving end of questions. ‘I saw this lady being pestered by a couple of thugs and so I chased them off. She wanted to show me her appreciation, which she did.’

‘And was your performance satisfactory?’

‘Yea,’ Batman grinned, ‘at least, she didn’t complain.’

He seemed relieved to have passed the test, but Wendy had not finished.

‘And masturbating? I assume you haven’t refrained since that last encounter.’

‘No, no I haven’t. I last wan-, that is to say, I masturbated about 10 days ago. Or was it 11? I’ve been rather busy lately.’

Wendy overlooked his lame attempt to justify how long ago it had been.

‘And did that work OK?’

Batman nodded.

‘But not since?’ Wendy persisted.

‘No. I’ve been busy and, to be honest, feeling rather tired. I’m thinking of seeing my doctor and asking for a tonic.’

‘Right,’ her expression gave nothing away. ‘Now do you need instructions to get me out of this dress.’

It turned out that Batman did not and Wendy was soon standing naked, her body pale with a splash of auburn where her crotch was protected by a tangled forest of pubic hair.

Batman grinned broadly.

‘It’s good to see that collar and cuffs match.’

Half an hour later, Wendy was licking the sweat from the Bat’s muscular chest.

‘I guess you’ll be able to reassure your fellow wives that I am in full working order,’ he remarked proudly.

Wendy would indeed be doing that. Batman had produced a performance that she had expected. Virile and vigorous with little understanding of what was required to satisfy a woman.

‘Take a rest,’ he smiled as she pushed him onto his back, ‘while I take a little ride.’

Ten minutes later her hair was matted and her small tits were glistening with her own sweat as the last waves of her orgasm faded away.

Another half hour and Batman walked slowly away from her apartment, promising himself to make an appointment with his doctor about a tonic.

His last load of sperm was trickling down Wendy’s thigh as she downloaded the recording of their session onto her laptop and ensured it was securely encrypted.

Yes, Batman wasn’t impotent, at least not yet.


Nov 5, 2013
A place in Wales that you can't pronounce
The Clown checked off the list of men she had infected so far. She didn’t see herself as a clown, far from it, but all the best villains in Gotham had some sort of moniker and a silly costume, and, well, it was easy to get hold of Clown outfits. Not that she had worn it officially yet. The time wasn’t right for that. But she wore it when she made her plans and reviewed her progress.

Every time she saw one of her victims looking proud and important, she remembered that the thing that mattered most to him, that silly little thing that dangled between his legs, wasn’t working. How could anyone respect a man who wasn’t a man. When everyone knows what frauds they all are, they won’t dare appear in public. And best of all, the football team. Running around with those silly cheerleaders cavorting on the side lines, when this comes out, just imagine what their opponents will be whispering to them on the field and the taunts their fans will be chanting. Danglers, danglers, impotent danglers.

And progress had been so much faster than she expected. Getting the football team was, she had to admit, not part of her plan. The coach, yes, he was on the list, arrogant bastard, but the team just fell into her hands so to speak. But they were just like all the other men. Which just goes to show how silly men are. Not brave at all when it comes to it, just bluff and bluster. They didn’t notice when she slipped them the dose and no one will ever suspect, because they’re not looking for it, literally.

Now, back to the list to see which other people I should add. Infecting the editor was a master stroke. He won’t be publicising his own failings, so no one will be on their guard. So I can carry on and infect as many guys as I can.

I feel sorry about their wives and girlfriends, though, but there are lots of men who can still fuck them. It’s not like I have infected the entire male population, not yet anyway.


Nov 5, 2013
A place in Wales that you can't pronounce
Bruce Wayne sat calmly in the chair opposite his doctor as she quickly scanned his records.

‘Well, Bruce, I haven’t seen you since your last annual medical. How have you been? What brings you here today?’

‘It’s like this, doctor,’ he began. ‘I’ve been feeling very tired lately. I wondered if I needed a tonic or something.’

‘Tired,’ she noted on her tablet. ‘How does this show itself? Physical exhaustion, tiredness, loss of appetite, loss of libido?’

‘Nothing specific,’ Bruce confessed. ‘I just don’t seem to have the energy I used to. I’m eating OK.’

‘And libido?’ the doctor pressed.

‘Actually,’ he grinned, ‘I had sex three times yesterday, within two hours.’

The doctor made another note.

‘Well, you don’t seem to have a problem on that score. I’ll give you a quick examination and see if I can pick anything up.’

The examination, she had to admit, was mainly for her benefit. She enjoyed the sight and feel of his muscular body, and the intellectual pleasure of trying to work out how he got his scars, which he always said were nothing to worry about. And she wouldn’t have, except for the fact that there were more each time he came to see her.

‘OK, Bruce, you seem fine physically, but I’ll run a full blood scan before deciding whether you need a tonic. If you take this slip along the corridor, the phlebotomist will take some samples. I should have the results in a couple of days. Shall we make another appointment for then? And, in the meantime, try to reduce your sexual activity. You’re not getting any younger, and three times in a couple of hours is much more than I would expect of a man your age.’

Bruce took the slip she handed to him and left her office. He could face the worst villains of Gotham without a qualm, but having needles stuck into him always made him nervous, so it was with a sense of relief that he felt his Batcall device vibrating in his pocket. He turned and ran to reach the garage where his Batkit was awaiting his return from the doctor’s office.


Nov 5, 2013
A place in Wales that you can't pronounce
‘Oooohhhhhhhh, fuuuucccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkk.’

‘Aaarrrrrgggggghhhhhhh, Wendy, no please stop.’

‘Please, please, oh my god, no, no, no.’



Batman lay on his back on Wendy’s bed, his chest heaving. He had barely climbed on top of her before she had toss him onto his back and rode him, rode his cock like a lap dancer on a pole, up and down, twisting and turning, draining his balls. Never has a woman taken such complete control over him. Never had he felt so exhausted after a fuck. He was too breathless to respond to her questions. Almost too tired to take in what she was asking.

He was under her spell and it was too late that he realised that, having been milked of his sperm, he was now being milked of his most personal secrets.

Yes, he admitted, women he rescued often offered themselves to him. And yes, he obliged. Even, he admitted sheepishly the obese principal of the High School. She had turned his stomach, but he was too gallant to turn her down. And she had been surprisingly accomplished.

And what about the villains like Catwoman and Poison Ivy? No, he was adamant, never. That would have compromised his integrity.

And now, casually as if it were of no consequence at all, she had asked him about the men. Have any men ever offered themselves to you? Yes, he confessed, they had, but he had turned them down, all except one. A virile young man with hairy chest and muscles almost as hard as the Bat’s.

‘And did you take him or did he take you?’ Wendy asked with a smile on her face.

But Batman would not be drawn. So Wendy reached into a drawer and took out a long, thick, strap-on dildo. So would you mind if I used this on you?

The grin on the Bat’s face told her all she needed to know.

Ten minutes later, Batman was kneeling on the bed while Wendy humped him vigorously from behind, as the carefully concealed cameras recorded her every move from six angles. Another twenty minutes later and the Bat was dozing peacefully, as Wendy examined minutely his suit with its protective features and concealed gadgets.

She was sitting, still naked, in a chair with her legs crossed when Batman stumbled out of the bedroom.

‘Well,’ Wendy remarked, ‘I don’t know what was in that tonic you got from the doctor. If all the men around here had some of there, none of them would be impotent.’

The Bat smiled.

‘Actually, I didn’t get one, I was called away. Why did you ask me here, by the way, or don’t I need to ask?’

‘Oh yes, I almost forgot. The coach’s wife has told us that the team have confronted the coach. They don’t know about him or any of the others. They are convinced they are being trageted by a rival team. They’re also feeling under pressure to perform, not just on the field, but at home and in the dressing room. It seems the cheerleaders are deliberately taunting them and laughing at them. I don’t think,’ she sounded suddenly serious, ‘that we can keep the lid on this much longer. It may not get into the media, but if it gets onto the street that will be just as bad.’

She could not know that, as she spoke, the Quarterback’s partner was berating for his inability to get him pregnant and warning him that there were plenty of other guys who would be only happy to step in.


Nov 5, 2013
A place in Wales that you can't pronounce
The phone call from the doctor took Bruce by surprise. Would he please attend for an appointment at 16.45. The doctor began by referring to his previous visit.

‘I don’t seem to have your blood test results yet.’

‘Err, no,’ Bruce admitted. ‘Actually, I was called away urgently and couldn’t wait.’

‘Well,’ the doctor looked at him searchingly, ‘you still look a little tired, so we need to get those tests done asap.’

Bruce nodded. His tiredness was not unconnected to the fact that Batman had just had an exhausting two hour stint with Wendy, whose sexual preferences were surprisingly draining.

‘Right,’ the doctor shifted in her chair, ‘actually, that wasn’t the main reason why I asked you to come to see me. I’m wondering whether,’ she hesitated and then blurted it out, ‘whether you know how to get in touch with Batman.’

That was the last thing Bruce had anticipated.

‘No, doctor, I don’t. I’ve never had anything to do with the guy. And anyway he’d want to know what it was about, before he got in touch with you, I mean.’

The doctor nodded and wrung her hands.

‘I do see that, but that’s the problem, because you see it puts me in a difficult position … with patient confidentiality.’

‘Right, doctor, yes, I see your dilemma.’

‘Alright,’ the doctor sighed, ‘let me tell you a bit about it. It’s the football team. They’ve consulted me, all of them. They have a team doctor for sports stuff, but I handle their personal medical issues, do their annual medicals and so forth. The fact is that they’re impotent, every single one of them. Now normally you’d think, that is I’d think, as a doctor, that it was some psychological issue affecting them. But these guys don’t fit the profile for that. They are perfect physical specimens.’ She paused as she recalled her sodden panties after conducting a detailed and very personal examination of all the players. ‘And highly motivated. They think they are being poisoned in some way, by a rival team possibly.’

‘And is that what you think?’ Bruce probed.

‘No, I don’t, although I am running some blood tests just in case.’

‘So why don’t you ask the Mayor? He must have a way of contacting Batman.’

The doctor looked embarrassed again.

‘You see, oh dear, this is just getting worse. Well, I suppose I have to tell you the full picture. You see, they’re not the only ones affected. It is not unusual for men of, let’s say, a certain age, to have some erectile difficulties. I put it down to natural reduction of sexual prowess. But knowing that the team are affected made me think back over the past few months – I have a high profile practice, as you know – and it looks as if some of the most prominent members of our community – the male members anyway – sorry no pun intended, Bruce – it seems there are lots of men who have been affected.’

So more than we knew, Bruce thought. Out loud, he said, ‘And the Mayor is one of them, which is why you can’t contact Batman through him.’

The doctor nodded.

‘Give me an idea of the sort of people, doctor, just an idea, no names.’

‘OK, Bruce, right, well city officials, dignitaries, principals of the schools and colleges, major business leaders, top professionals in numerous fields, even a colleague has consulted me. It seems you are the only high profile member of our community who can still get it up.’ She lapsed into the vernacular with a sense of relief.

‘Look, I can’t promise anything, but I will try to make some discreet enquiries and do what I can.’

‘Thank you, Bruce, thank you so much, you don’t know what a relief this is for me.’

She rose and escorted him to her door.

‘Good afternoon, Bruce. Please let me know how you are getting on. And, by the way, while you’re here, why not have those blood samples done. It’s only just down that corridor.’


Nov 5, 2013
A place in Wales that you can't pronounce
Wendy and the Bat sat on the bed in her apartment, propped on the pillows, their eyes fixed on the Bat groin.

‘So,’ Wendy broke the silence, ‘your aren’t up for another bout then.’

The Bat shook his head. ‘No, it doesn’t look like it, no.’

‘And the first was a struggle for you, wasn’t it?’

They both remembered the frantic scrabble that had taken place half an hour earlier.

Batman nodded.

‘So, you think that you may, somehow, have been infected?’

‘Yes, I do, as it happens, yes.’ His voice was low.

‘Do you know how?’

‘Yes, I’m sure I know how and I also know that she has just reinfected the entire football team.’

‘Tell me,’ Wendy was sitting up now, eager to hear.

‘It’s the woman who takes the blood samples at the clinic. What does everyone do when someone sticks a needle in us? We look away. She takes advantage of that and, when she’s taken the blood samples, she slips in an injection of the serum or what it is and it’s done.’

‘And that is what happened to you?’

Batman told her of the call from his doctor and about her request for him to contact Batman.

‘The question is,’ he continued, ‘whether this woman is working on her own or just doing what someone else has told her to do.’

‘It seems to me,’ Wendy corrected him, ‘that there are more important questions. Is it permanent, how long does it last, is there an antidote?’

‘There has to be hope, doesn’t there,’ the Bat was thoughtful, ‘I mean if it were permanent, why bother giving the players another doze?’

They both lay back of the pillows, this time each lost in their own thoughts. This time it was the Bat who broke the silence.

‘Wendy, you won’t tell anyone, will you, about me that is, being infected, please.’

She patted his hand in what she hoped was reassurance. Men were so pathetic, all of them, just children really.
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