Wonder Woman in the Lair of the Scarecrow  

By Dr. Dominator

Wizards Lair Contest 2015
Wizards Lair Contest Winner
Wonder Woman
Batgirl

This story is meant to be read only by adults. It portrays non-consensual sex and other aspects of superheroine peril that are not meant for underage readers. The author in no way condones the behavior exhibited in this story. The copyright for the characters involved are owned by third parties and this story is for the purposes of satire only. No harm is meant and no profit is being realized from its use. Other than that, please enjoy the tale.

Batgirl had been missing for three days before Wonder Woman was contacted by the Justice League. It wasn't via her communicator disk that she was called but rather in her mind as she was taking her morning shower. She was just soaping up her breasts and thinking about her light casework load at IADC when suddenly she realized her thoughts weren't all her own.

"Diana, are you alone?"

"Yikes!" Instantly twisting into a crouch, the Amazon princess clutched her body with both arms, sending soap lather flying everywhere as she covered her private parts. She'd been contacted by the Martian Manhunter before via telepathy but no matter how often he'd contacted her in that way, it always startled her. And being nude, she was even more upset

"BY HERA'S GOLDEN GIRDLE! I should damn well think so, J'onn! I'm in the freaking shower!"

"My apologies. You are needed."

"Hey! Could you give me two minutes of privacy, you green peeping pervert!"

"I see no need for such xenophobic insults."

"Privacy, J'onn! NOW!"

"Very well."

Two minutes later, wrapped in a towel and drying her hair, Diana Prince found the Martian Manhunter returning to her thoughts.

"Was that sufficient time for you to make yourself ready?" The deep bass voice resonates in her head.

"You've never lived with a woman, have you, J'onn? Of course it wasn't enough time. Do you have any idea how long it takes to dry a head of hair like mine."

"I have no clue."

"I rest my case. But go on, tell me what the issue is, I can hear you fine. The hair dryer isn't affecting your telepathy strength whatsoever."

The statuesque beauty continues to brush her hair up and point the dryer's nozzle at the lustrous black locks as she stands in front of the mirror with the towel wrapped around the lower half of her ample breasts. The shifting fleece against her warm skin feels nice as she continues her morning routine.

"Batgirl is still missing and Batman is on a mission in South America from which he has yet to return. We've lost contact with him momentarily but I am not worried yet. Nevertheless, we have received a request from Gotham's Mayor and police commissioner for assistance. The mayor requests your presence at a meeting in his office today at 5 pm, after hours. He wants you to help locate Batgirl and to present a super-powered presence in the city to help staunch the crime wave that is occurring in the absence the city's two premier enforcers of justice."

"What about Robin? Isn't he still there?"

"Good one, Diana. I always liked your sense of humor. Seriously, red short shorts and green boots? Doesn't exactly inspire fear in the hearts of criminals now, does it?"

"I understand he packs a powerful punch."

"Maybe if you're trying to take out the irate matrons of the garden club. Otherwise...."

"Be nice, J'onn. Not everyone tops the power scales like you and Kal."

"And you as well, Princess. So, will you take the assignment?"

"Of course I will, J'onn. My case load is pretty light this week. Tell Gotham's head honchos I'll be there. Are there any leads for me to follow?"

"Just one clue according to Commissioner Gordon, Diana, but it's more than enough. A single strand of straw taped to the seat of Batgirl's abandoned motorcycle."

"So, the Scarecrow is back in action," frowned Diana.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Afraid? Is that a play on words about his talent for inducing phobias?

"It wasn't intentional, I assure you."

"Fine, I accept your apology."

"I wasn't apologizing," the Martian replies.

"Well, you owe me one for barging in while I was showering."

"It wasn't intentional, I assure you"

"Of that I'm not so sure. Anyway, I will keep in touch with you J'onn throughout this assignment."

"Please do, Diana."

"And next time, stay out of my shower."

"No promises," J'onn replies and suddenly the Amazon's thoughts are all her own. She shakes her head, always a tad unnerved at that form of communication.

With her hair dry, and after doing her make-up wearing only pale yellow panties and matching bra, Diana dresses in a simple black skirt, white blouse, a royal blue silk scarf and practical low-heeled calf-high black leather boots. She then drives over to her hidden landing strip only a few miles away, spins into her Wonder Woman costume and flies in her invisible jet from the nation's capital to Gotham City two hours away.


Batgirl hangs alone in the dark feeling disoriented, sick to her stomach, exhausted and badly wounded from head to toe. From the moment she'd gotten off her Bat-cyle in the alley behind the Behavior Adaptation Training School situated on the edge of a seedy section of town called Old Gotham, she'd been off her game. And things had gone downhill from there.

The clue that led her there had been a bit too obvious but if the Scarecrow was up to something, it was up to her to handle him. With Batman out of town, it fell to her to protect Gotham's citizens from all threats and nobody represented such a clear threat as Scarecrow. His tendency toward poisoning community water and food sources was well known.

It was the news of his attack on a police officer in the Dickens Heights area that had drawn the masked heroine quickly to the scene and Scarecrow to her attention. The cruel villain had gassed a young policeman and then tucked a business card with his Jonathan Crane credentials and office address into the cop's holster before leaving. Stricken with a nasty dose of fear toxin, the officer raved and wept and wildly waved his pistol in the air in the middle of his traffic duty post outside an elementary school. His breakdown had badly frightened the exiting students who crouched behind bushes, mailboxes and fire hydrants.

Batgirl had been forced to subdue the unfortunate cop with a deft toss of her batarang, knocking him senseless and restraining him until an ambulance arrived to treat him.

The card had led her to a combination mental health facility and nursing home. No sooner had she put down the kickstand of her cycle than had a tranquilizer dart from an upper window taken her out. She hadn't even cased the scene well enough to notice the window, so anxious was she to apprehend the Scarecrow!

Since then, over the course of what she believed was three days, she'd been severely beaten; thoroughly worked over by fists and chains and socks filled with ball-bearings. Her nose was broken. One eye was a bright purple welt that she could barely see through. Both arms ached from being suspended for hours at a time. Her knees and ankles were swollen from hard knocks delivered by steel clubs. Her costume was sliced open in several places and her mouth was crusted with some scabs from her lips being split.

Gotham's Dynamic Damsel was a mess. A steady parade of syringes filled with tranquilizing drugs prevented any effective defense against the brutal assaults. What's more, they had rendered her incapable of planning any escape strategy. The only saving grace to her predicament were the bathroom breaks. She'd been allowed, under heavy guard with both men pointing guns at her and standing there watching her, to do her business. She was so out of it though, sitting on the toilet with her elbows on her knees and head hung low, it was low on the list of humiliations. More dispiriting were the hands roaming all over body as she was hung like meat from the ceiling. They constantly squeezed and caressed and lingered over her breasts, between her legs, up and down her arms and legs, all in between severe beatings.

And now she hears the door to her padded cell suddenly swing open. The overhead lights snapping on make her wince in the sudden change from blackness to blinding glare. The Scarecrow steps through wearing his traditional burlap bag mask. He is followed by a statuesque redhead about 5' 10" tall wearing a powder blue business suit so tight that business was the last thing one thought of when seeing her. She was carrying a video camera on a tripod. Behind her came the two big bruisers who'd been working Batgirl over for the past 72 hours. Barbara had come to call the huge bald-headed guy Frick and the short, stout blond fireplug Frack. Both were wearing their traditional sadistic grins.

"A belated welcome, my young punching bag," says the menacing figure with the burlap disguise from which two deep-set eyes stared out with reptilian intensity. He walks over to the suspended vigilante, slowly caresses her breasts and speaks his perverted nursery rhyme: "Little hijacked hero hangs like a zero, swinging slowly in a funk. She's stuck in her nose where it just shouldn't go and now she'll be dead as a skunk!"

Batgirl tries not to respond to the taunting rhyme but the man's painful squeezing of her tit draws a helpless moan from her lips, breaking a scab and leaking blood down her chin.

"I apologize for not greeting you sooner but my earnest friends here were so eager to beat the living snot out of you that I simply couldn't deny them their fun. I just came by to greet you and thank you for being such a complete moron about coming here and getting captured."

Scarecrow's hand continues to fondle her breast while his other hand palms her crotch.

"I'll be back shortly but for now, Sarah and her friends here are going to take prep you for your role in a special video. I will return to give you a little fear cocktail when they're done. Don't struggle, it won't do any good. Oh, and try not to miss me too much." His hands linger menacingly on her body a bit longer before they trail off. The man in the burlap mask then suddenly turns and walks out. That's when the two men begin to manhandle the helpless heroine.


"Thank you for coming to our fair city so quickly, Wonder Woman," declares John Abrams, Gotham's pompous mayor. "It's a 'wonder' we haven't met sooner," he quips badly.

Suppressing a scowl, the tall beauty simply responds, "What can you tell me about Batgirl's disappearance? Have you any new leads, Commissioner Gordon?" Trying to shift the conversation to a man she respects more, Diana looks over at the frowning commissioner.

"I wish I had more, Wonder Woman. As you know, we finally found her Bat-cycle earlier today behind a deserted warehouse near Old Gotham with Scarecrow's signature calling card, a broken straw filled with some toxin. The lab's now analyzing it and the results will be available in the next hour I'm told. We've got beat cops canvassing the area to see if anybody saw anything, but there's not a lot of traffic around there. I'm not hopeful."

"You told me on the way over that the Scarecrow gassed a crossing guard three days ago and that Batgirl dealt with that officer. Any new developments from that?"

"Not a lot," Police Chief O'Hara answered. "We've interviewed the students who saw the attack. Their stories all corroborate: a man wearing a burlap bag on his head shot the regular duty officer at his crossing post with a dart from some sort of mini-crossbow. The patrolman began acting erratically almost immediately, shouting crying and carrying on, even going so far as to wave his pistol."

"The children must have been terrified," Wonder Woman laments.

"Extremely. The Scarecrow ran up to the officer, stuffed something in his holster and then ran off around the corner," O'Hara continued. "He got into a white van that one sharp-eyed student was able to copy the insignia from before it drove off."

Taking the paper from the police chief Wonder Woman peered at the image of a hovering bat with the word underneath it except with periods between each letter: B.A.T.S.

"Do any of you have an idea what this means," Diana asked the trio.

"We're trying to track it down, but for now, no," frowned Commission Gordon.

Just then the intercom buzzed and the mayor's secretary came on. "Mayor Abrams, we've just received a package from a courier at the front desk marked urgent for your eyes only.

"Detain that courier," interrupted Wonder Woman.

"I'm sorry, he's already left," the secretary replied.

"Can you have your secretary or whomever signed for the package come in, Mayor? We'll need to try to track where the package came from, I suspect," the Amazon urged.

"Nancy, who signed for the package?"

"The new girl, Kristy"

"Have her come in with the package, please," Abrams directed.

"Not before the bomb squad checks it out," states Commissioner Gordon. The mayor nods.

Twenty minutes later, after debriefing Kristy and getting nothing of value about the courier, the opened envelope is on the desk. A DVD is playing in the unit on the mayor's credenza. The foursome watches the wall-mounted television as a grainy screen showing nothing but electronic snow suddenly goes to a bright red and black copyright notice about protected intellectual property being a crime. And then the image of Batgirl's bound and suspended body suddenly fills the screen and Wonder Woman gasps in shock.

On the wall-mounted tv screen, the venerated Batgirl is hog-tied in red nylon ropes. She's obviously been severely beaten, with her costume torn and her red hair in complete disarray. A spiked dog collar cinches tightly around her throat, creasing her skin slightly. Her ankles and wrists are coiled in rope and tied behind her back, joined in a square of nylon rope mere inches apart. This causes her back to arch, her thighs to spread open and her body to bow painfully as it sways in mid-air.

The camera slowly zooms in on Batgirl's face, drawing attention to a bright purple welt almost closing her left eye entirely. The bright yellow ball gag that is stuffed in her widely-spread mouth muffles her groaning and weeping. Everyone standing in an arc watching the tv monitor can't help but notice that Batgirl's purple cowl has had the eye holes crudely enlarged. Jagged edges surround the eyes, and it's unnerving to see the one crazed brown eye darting back and forth with such panicked movements. The other eye shows just a hint of brown movement through the badly swollen purplish lid. As the un-blackened eye shifts back and forth, there's the constant sound of groaning moans and gasps babbling out from behind the choking yellow ball. Whatever toxin Batgirl had been subjected to was completely overwhelming her. Her bucking body and flinging drool showed that she was totally consumed by panic with no way to fight it as tightly bound as she was.

"Heaven help that unfortunate soul," Commissioner Gordon laments, "Whoever she may be!"

Wonder Woman gives the sorrowful man a quick sidelong glance. Pity filled her heart but Wonder Woman's face showed nothing to reveal the soul-searing truth that Gordon's own daughter was the one displayed before him on the television screen.

After the extreme closeup on Batgirl's face, the camera pulled back to a medium shot of the dangling girl as she struggled and groaned in place. Then the Scarecrow himself walked in from the right side of the frame, stepped up to Batgirl and slid his hand through a sliced hole in the chest of her costume. The bulge of his right hand could be seen encompassing the breast and fondling her as the villain began to speak into the microphone he held in his left hand.

"Scarecrow has a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb.

Scarecrow has a little lamb that he might have to kill.

It followed him right to his lair, to his lair, to his lair.

It followed him right to his lair and now she's not so well.

If you want her back again, back again, back again

If you want her back again, three million you will pay.

If you don't, she'll end up dead, end up dead, end up dead

If you don't she'll end up dead, on this you have no say."

Pulling his hand out of the costume once his recitation of the horrific rhyme was completed, Scarecrow took two steps closer to the fixed camera, the burlap covering his head looming close, just two feet away from the lens so his face filled the frame. His black eyes do not blink through the rest of his presentation.

"I hope that you take this threat seriously Mayor Abrams, Commissioner Gordon and Chief O'Hara. After all, with everything this shapely creature has done for Gotham, surely she's worth a mere $3 million dollars. Why, that's a mere fraction of the cost of the civic center she ended saving from that bombing attempt just four months ago. I will be in touch at noon tomorrow about the particulars of the delivery of the ransom. Ta ta for now, chumps."

The screen went black and one four-line credit slowly rolled up and stopped.

This has been a Scarecrow Production

in association with Fear Me Forever Inc.

If you don't want to see another one

that's more gruesome, PAY UP!!

Mayor Abrams shuts off the disc player and turns to the others with a stern expression. He bangs his fist on the credenza dramatically and announces, "Well, I won't authorize payment. I don't negotiate with terrorists."


She's going to fall! Batgirl was absolutely certain! She was going to fall and break her neck. It had to happen eventually. She took too many chances. Even tied up like this, well, a rope could break. Her weight could redistribute badly and the rope could break. She could die! She would die! She was scared to death of breaking her spine. Of being paralyzed for life. Of being a vegetable. That could happen. It happened all the time. Her cheeks felt wet. She was crying. She couldn't get free and she was going to fall and break her neck. Or choke to death on this ballgag. That could happen too. So many things could kill her. So many ways to die. She couldn't count them all. She might be tied too tightly and she could get gangrene from lack of circulation. They'd have to amputate her arms, her legs. That could happen. She was going to die. She just knew it. She looked all around, everywhere, every second for any way out. There was none! None at all. She was as good as dead! Was the ceiling getting lower?


Wonder Woman's night had been extremely long and very busy. From 6 p.m. to 8 a.m. the following morning she'd canvassed the city with the help of a young crime blogger who wrote a column for the Gotham Daily Dose. Well-versed in the underground haunts of the poor, downtrodden and criminally-inclined, Seth Kingman had come highly recommended by Chief O'Hara as a reliable source of inside information on the activities and hangouts of the city's underbelly. The redheaded twenty-five year old was highly regarded as a man with a good head on his shoulders and excellent instincts. He was also quite fearless, though occasionally rash.

After a heated discussion among the mayor, commissioner, police chief and herself regarding how to handle Scarecrow's threats, it was resolved to do nothing but concentrate on the police work at hand while Wonder Woman and Seth tried from their end to turn up more leads. The fear toxin samples from the stricken officer and the straw found on the Bat-cycle matched. It was a very powerful hallucinogen, although the sample from the Bat-cycle was much more diluted than the one taken from the crossing guard. Unfortunately, by the time Wonder Woman had met the blogger at a downtown coffee shop, no one had yet uncovered the meaning of the logo on Scarecrow's getaway van.

Seth Kingman's earnest blue eyes, short curly blonde hair and dimpled smile were a pleasant surprise to Wonder Woman. His height was slightly less than hers and his handshake was firm. He gave off a much older impression than his actual age. They discussed how they would proceed through the night with Seth noting down in his small pad the places he suggested that the two of them would go in order to find people who might have any information on the Scarecrow. Wonder Woman was happy to have someone along who knew the city and it's people well. She knew very little about Gotham.

Going from sleazy bars to dive hangouts to late night social clubs to dark street corners to side-streets where drug dealers mixed with whores in sheltered doorways, the Amazon princess and her guide probed Gotham's more questionable citizens for details about the Scarecrow or any of his accomplices. Some locales were so nasty even Diana had to steel herself before walking in to plumb the place for information. So many pairs of eyes undressed her over the course of the night that Wonder Woman had developed the uncharacteristic nervous habit of pulling up her bustier with a subtle tug before entering anywhere new.

Naturally, wearing her costume sparked more than a few creative insults and sexual suggestions from the more foolhardy souls who uttered them before encountering either a venomous glare or more assertive physical reprisal from the increasingly-discouraged beauty. Throughout the night, in pursuit of leads, arms were twisted, drinks were paid for, hopes were raised then dashed. But, as the evening wore on into a cool and fruitless night, no success was achieved by the disgruntled pair.

The diagram of the van's logo was folded and unfolded countless time to nothing but head shakes, furtive side glances and colorfully-cursed denials of any knowledge of the symbol. Even Wonder Woman's daunting stature and menacing glare couldn't break through the wall of cold sick fear encountered whenever Scarecrow's name was mentioned. Everybody knew how ruthless the guy could be and nobody was talking.

It wasn't until just after 7:30 a.m. that the pair got lucky. They were discussing stopping their search and going to their homes to catch some shuteye when they passed an alley. A gruff voice from a cardboard box that once housed a refrigerator floated out to them.

"Who goes there? Friend or foe?"

"Friend," Wonder Woman answered, stepping into the alley and standing outside the box. It had a dirty, threadbare blue blanket hung up to keep the wind out.

"Prove it. Give me a quarter," the voice said.

"What will it buy me," asked Diana.

"What do you want?"

"Information."

"I got some. First off, for free, your damn heels make too much noise. Woke me up."

"I apologize. Can you pull this rag aside so I can see who's offering this information?"

"Give me the quarter first."

"Let's go, we're wasting our time," complained Seth. "This rummy doesn't know anything."

"I know that Seth Kingman is a cheapskate, for starters," came the voice.

"Who's in there. Who is that?"

"Charlie Perkins."

"Charlie? I thought you died. Weren't you over on Belvidere?"

"Not dead, just rousted. They cleaned up Belvidere. Fuckin' Mayor!"

"I like your new digs, Charlie. Very fancy. Last time it was a dishwasher box. You're moving up in the world."

Kingman takes a dollar bill from his wallet and hands it past the left edge of the blanket. A gnarled hand with oversized knuckles, almost troll-like, snatches it from his grip. After a rustling noise, the blanket is pulled to the side to reveal an old man sitting cross-legged on a second threadbare blanket. This one is red faded to barely pink. The grizzled face, dry gray hair and sallow cheeks show years of abuse but by Diana's reckoning the green eyes are surprisingly alert for a homeless man. They shine from the shadows.

"I know about you," Charlie drawls, taking a long look up the endless legs of the imposing figure "Kinda far from your usual territory, aren't you?"

"I'm trying to find a friend...Batgirl. She's missing and the Scarecrow has her," Wonder Woman answers pointedly. Time is fleeting. She unfolds for the final time that night the drawing kept under her belt. "Have you seen a van with this picture on it?"

"Maybe. Cost you another dollar."

"You already got all you're going to get," Seth declares.

"What'd I tell ya," the bearded man nods at the blogger, "cheapskate. Thanks for stopping by." Letting the curtain drop, the man begins to sing "I can't get no satisfaction."

"We've spent all night in every dive in this god-forsaken city and you won't give him one dollar?" Wonder Woman's tone, cocked hip and exasperation shows her fatigue...and worry.

"You know how much I've spent already getting nothing from nobody. Blogging doesn't pay what you think it does, Diana!"

"Cheapskate!" The voice from the box calls out between softly muttered verses of the Rolling Stones classic.

"I don't carry money on me. I'm good for half of what you spent tonight, Seth. One more lousy dollar. Then we go home and start again in the morning. Please!"

"Fine," grumbles the young man retrieving another lone bill and passing it into the box.

The blanket is pulled aside and Charlie gives them the information they've been seeking all night: the back alley where the van is usually parked.

After leaving Charlie with an extra five-dollar bill for his help, Seth and Wonder Woman headed back to his parked car and promptly got into an argument about Seth accompanying Wonder Woman to the van site and probable nearby location of Scarecrow's hideout. Possibly because she was tired or maybe Seth's way with words wove a convincing spell on her, but in either case it was one of the few arguments in her life that Diana lost. In fact, the most likely reason she agreed for Seth to accompany her was that their long night together had built up incredible trust between them under continual stress.


The van was parked in an alley right where Charlie Perkins had said it would be. The larger cross street was Dwyer Road, a once-fashionable stretch of high-tone shops now fallen victim to urban blight. Tattoo parlors, Laundromats, pawn shops and liquor stores now occupied fancy structures that were barely maintained up to city building codes.

A three foot wide white wooden sign with gold lettering and green edging was mounted just to the side of the double glass doors facing Dwyer Road. The edifice was once a popular luxury hotel but now the sign designated the property as the Behavioral Adjustment Treatment School. Smartly, there was no picture of a hovering bat to scare off potential clients.

Earlier in the alleyway, Wonder Woman had stepped behind the van and spun in a circle, changing into her Diana Prince identity with a dazzling burst of light. After their long night of mutual trust and the fact that Seth had swiftly punched out a drunk who'd palmed Wonder Woman's ass while she was leaning over the bar to question the bartender, Diana had told Seth her secret. It was also because they had agreed to pose as a couple looking for a place they could afford to house their aging mother stricken with dementia.

Still wearing her black skirt, white blouse, royal blue silk scarf and black leather boots from when she got dressed the day before, Diana Prince looked her part to perfection. In his worn brown leather jacket, khakis and blue collared shirt, Seth Kingman looked like he was tagging along with his wife as a courtesy. After all, he would be happy to finally have her mother out of their house, right?

The woman who answered the bell at B.A.T.S. was a stunning beauty. A tall redhead wearing a form-fitting business suit in lilac with chocolate-colored stockings raised Seth's eyebrows appreciatively. Even Diana noted the fit form of the woman who introduced herself as Sarah Burkell, the facility's Chief of Staff.

"How can I help you two?" Sarah's voice was low-pitched with a sexy huskiness that would have brought millions of listeners to a radio talk show.

Diana took the lead, introducing themselves as the Petersons and launching into their story of an aging mother with dementia, rough financial straits and a hint of desperation.

"How did you find out about us," asked Sarah.

"Well, we live fairly close by. Our washer broke about a month ago. I've been using the Laundromat down the street. I noticed your sign one day while strolling by during a rinse cycle. I made inquiries and someone said you might be a nursing home."

"Oh, we're much more than that," Sarah asserted with pride. "Come inside. Let me give you a tour. We have a very unique method that incorporates a well-rounded, what we call "Full Life" approach, to our residents' care and well-being..."

The tour went on for a mind-numbing twenty-five minutes of droning talk about full actualization, wellness methodologies, dietary defense procedures and Dr. Crane's own 'reality invigorizing' tactics. When asked if Dr. Crane was available to meet with them, the couple was told unfortunately not, he was busy with a day-long conference entitled Modern Psychiatric Methodologies in a Cost Accounting Age."

All the while both Diana and Seth took mental notes of the structure's hallways and stairwells for possible later exploration. When the tour came to the fourth floor of the five-story edifice, a locked hallway marked "Authorized Personnel Only" drew a cursory wave of the hand and a brusque explanation from Sarah.

"That used to be our dangerous patients ward, but we've closed it down and will be renovating it from a warren of dreary single rooms to one very big, very sunny day-room." Then brightening, she added, "It'll have a skylight!"

"So there are no more patients left in there?"

"No, it's empty."

"I was wondering why alight was on."

"It could be one of the construction crew doing measurements. They'll be starting the project in the next couple of weeks. Let me show you the cafeteria in the basement. Our residents just adore our food."

Just then the familiar sound of generic ring tone emanates from Sarah's jacket pocket. "Oh, excuse me for just a moment, that's my cell phone," she says, walking away from the couple to take the call.

"I need to get into that hallway," whispers Diana.

"Why don't you go with her to the cafeteria while I excuse myself to the men's room," Seth softly suggests.

"Can you break that padlock with your bare hands?"

"Uhhmm...no."

"Right," smirks Diana. "I'll do the bathroom excuse and you do the cafeteria."

"Alright," grumbles Seth as Sarah strides toward him.

"I'm sorry, I have a sudden emergency I have to handle," Sarah frowns. "Let me show you out," she says, gathering Seth by taking his arm and steering him toward the stairwell.

"I'll be right along," Diana says with a wave of her hand as she heads away from the administrator. "I saw a bathroom down that hallway. I'll catch up with you at the first floor lobby, honey. An emergency all my own," she shrugs at Sarah and turns quickly down the hallway leading to the ladies room.

Taken by surprise, there's little Sarah can do but comply to the retreating back of the black-haired woman and walk with her husband down the stairs. On the third floor landing, coming up in the opposite direction is a very large bald orderly in a white jacket. As they pass the man, Seth hears the heavy footsteps stop and suddenly Sarah grips his arm tightly. The thundering punch to his kidney by the orderly knocks the breath out of Seth with a loud grunt while driving him to his knees. The double fisted hammer blow to his wavering head knocks the stunned reporter out completely and he crumples to the stairway landing in a heap.

"Follow me up and take him to Ward Room G-3. I've got to go back and handle wifey," Sarah orders, proceeding up the stairs with long leggy strides. The orderly easily picks up the limp figure on the landing, hoists him in a fireman's carry and trudges up behind his boss, enjoying the view of her fast moving rump before it disappears.


Wonder Woman is horrified by the sight before her. She has found Batgirl in a small padded room labeled G-2 in the old ward behind the now broken padlock. The haggard heroine is still suspended in the hogtie of red nylon ropes and hung from the ceiling but her face is much more badly beaten than before. Purple bruises adorn both cheeks. Angry knobs in two places on her forehead create bulges in her cowl piece. Her body drips blood from open wounds in several places on her arms and legs. The crotch of her batsuit is distorted by the ends of two now-silent dildos embedded in both her vagina and rectum. The rounded knobs stretch out the dark grey rubber to a lighter white gray. The loud moans and constant whimpering from the red-headed heroine is occasionally punctuated by keening shrieks and full body tremors.

"Oh my god, Barbara, what have those bastards done to you?!"

If Batgirl even comprehends that Wonder Woman is in the room to rescue her, there's no indication from her. Her eyes roll and dart, her drool slides out past the yellow ball gag, and her chest heaves up and down with panic from the all-encompassing fear created by the Scarecrow's powerful phobia serum. Wonder Woman wonders if the poor girl's mind can even be reclaimed after so many hours of heightened anxiety.

Her heart must be going a mile a minute. I have to get her down!

Stepping closer Wonder Woman is affronted by the acrid scent of urine and sweat and sexual excitement. Obviously the dildos had done their job and at some point the intolerable fear had gotten to Batgirl's bladder. The crotch of her uniform is darker than the rest of it.

"They will pay, Barbara. I guarantee that I will make Scarecrow pay."

Wonder Woman is reaching up to pull apart the red nylon rope surrounding Batgirl's thighs when a low sexy voice behind her says, "I don't know how you'll make us pay when you're going to be suffering the same fate, you stupid bitch."

"As soon as I get her down, we will discuss fate, Ms. Burkell," snarls the Amazon warrior, who snaps the thigh rope with quick tug. "And I will seal yours!"

"You're welcome to think that, Mrs. Peterson, if that's even your real name, Wonder Woman."

"What are you talking about? Who's Mrs. Peterson?" Wonder Woman snaps apart the other thigh rope and now Batgirl hangs just by her arms from the ceiling pulley.

"How stupid do you think I am, cunt? The wife disappears and suddenly you show up. The math isn't that hard! Oh look, here's hubby now: the illustrious Seth Kingman, noted blogger and notorious champion of the downtrodden. Stay here a moment, Gustav," Sarah commands.

Wonder Woman turns to see Seth flung over the shoulder of a huge orderly standing in the doorway and pauses in her process of freeing Batgirl, concerned for her partner's welfare.

"I got suspicious when I recognized Kingman from his blog photo Couldn't even bother to come up with a disguise for him, huh? Is your secret identity Diana Peterson then, Wonder Woman? Well, it doesn't matter at this point. Your name from here on out will be Mudd!"

Burkell lifts the head of the unconscious reporter and studies his slack face for a moment. "I guess he doesn't realize he's almost famous now. Big mistake...on both your parts coming here. Dr. Crane doesn't like surprises."

Wonder Woman frowns and then pulls apart the rope circling Batgirl's abdomen, intent on freeing the whimpering, panicked woman before going after the culprits involved.

"Turn around and stop what you're doing now, Wonder Woman, or Seth's next blog will contain his obituary," warns the redheaded woman.

Ignoring the warning, Wonder Woman snaps the red cord encircling Batgirl's chest.

"You're going to add murder to your list of crimes, Sarah?" That's quite a step up from kidnaping and torture," the scowling Amazonian states. "Are you sure you want to..." The sudden explosive cloud of white dust that plumes out from Batgirl's dog collar completely engulfs Wonder Woman's face and head. She chokes and gasps and reels back several stumbling steps, trying to wave away the white mist hanging about her.

"I warned you to turn around but I knew you wouldn't listen. Your hubris is so predictable, bitch." Wonder Woman's legs tremble and shake but she can't remain on her feet. She collapses to her knees and wavers there unsteadily. "And now you're in the same trouble as your little friend. I'm going to enjoy helping Gustav and Roland teach you how to behave, hero."

The dust cloud of knockout powder clings to Wonder Woman's face like a layer of dry cold cream. It fills her pores, makes her too dizzy to stay upright, takes her down to her hands and knees. Sarah enjoys the view of the famous Amazon as she shakes her head feebly on all fours, her tits hanging under her showing over a cavernous cleavage before the dazed champion collapses to the floor. She desperately tries to crawl but gets only a mere two feet before falling forward with a thump. With her arms and legs splayed, her cheek against cold ugly gray and yellow speckled linoleum and her ass jiggling from her failed effort to escape, Wonder Woman is finally out cold.

Sarah looks at her watch. The time is 9:45 a.m. She gives Gustav a command. "Put him in G-3 in a strait jacket and then you and Roland hang Wonder Woman in G-8 just like you did with Batgirl when we first captured her. I'll get some more rope and re-hang Bat-Shit Crazy here myself. Then we'll all have fun teaching the Amazon the error in her ways for a while before she gets dosed with Phobia 212." Her eyes gleam with the thought of how to handle her new captive.

"I really have to admire Jonathan. Fixing up that remote dog collar and knowing that Wonder Woman wouldn't turn around, especially when I asked her to...all in advance. The man is just brilliant."

"I'm going to enjoy myself with that Amazon bitch," declares Gustav as he moves off with Seth toward the padded cell next door.

"You and me both, pal," replies Sarah, her smile widening to its fullest. She is a beautiful woman but badly twisted.


Once again, Gotham's Mayor Abrams, Police Commissioner Gordon and Chief O'Hara are clustered around the wall-mounted tv watching another video from Scarecrow. It is just after noon and the trio is absolutely horrified when the screen goes from the copyright notice to the opening scene. Batgirl and Wonder Woman now hang before the camera suspended side by side from the ceiling in matching hogties: Batgirl's.is red nylon rope while Wonder Woman's is shiny steel chains.

Both women sport ball gags, Batgirl's yellow, Wonder Woman's bright blue. Both women are wide-eyed, their irises darting back and forth in terror. Both women's faces and bodies are beaten and bruised. They both are drooling long threads of saliva and are dripping blood from nasty wounds. Finally, both women have the damp crotches of their costumes stretched out by vibrating dildos and humming butt plugs.

"Merciful heaven, what do we do now?" Chief O'Hara's face is pale and his hands are shaking so badly, he clasps them together in a fist and still they shake.

"I'm sure Scarecrow is about to tell us exactly what he wants us to do," Commissioner Gordon replies glumly. Mayor Abrams just looks on, every bit of his bluster deflated to naught as Scarecrow begins to speak his version of the Jack and Jill nursery rhyme:

"Bat and Bitch thought it'd be rich

to fetch themselves a Scarecrow.

Bat got caught and soon was sought

by Bitch who fared no better!

Once again, Scarecrow's burlap bag's mask grows larger, filling the screen as the camera closes on the villain's head. The intense eyes through the holes in the burlap and the sudden body gestures as he begins to talk clearly demonstrate the man's anger.

"I'm guessing you don't have my money ready, you stupid cretins. You sent out a powerful adversary, or so you thought, to capture me and rescue the shapely bat there. Didn't quite work out as you hoped, did it, morons! Well, the price just went up, Mayor Abrams. I want $9 million dollars for the return of these two. That's three million for Bat Cunt, four million for Wonder Boobs and an extra two million penalty fee...just for pissing me off! The deadline is set for 6 p.m. tonight. I'll call with instructions at 5 p.m. as to when and where your donation should be delivered.

"And just to be sure I have your attention, if you don't pay me this time, Gotham's water supply will be contaminated with a special toxin that will not only cause panic in the streets but will leave about ten percent of the population who drinks it dead as a doornail. So get those funds ready, Mayor, or you'll be known as the man who allowed a plague to happen on his watch!

"Oh, I almost forgot. I'm being a good sport and tossing back Seth Kingman to you at no extra charge with the girls. He's not a big enough fish. Providing of course that you pay. If not, bye bye blogger! The sarcastic wave that Scarecrow gives by bending his fingers forward fades to black and then a six-line credit rolls by:

This has been a Scarecrow Production

in association with Fear Me Forever Inc.

If you try to fuck me over again, I promise

that you will regret it to the end of your days.

Pay the $9 million or get the girls back in pieces

and a tainted water supply.

The mayor picks up his desk phone and says in a somber voice. "Nancy, call an emergency meeting of the city council for 3 p.m. Yes, I do mean today. And have the city's attorney and CFO Bob Raskins there as well. Yes, I know it's short notice. Pull in everyone you can. It's life and death. Use that phrase and mean it. Thanks." He hangs up the phone and sits down heavily in his chair. Then opens up the bottom file drawer of his desk and pulls out a bottle of Chivas Regal followed by three glass tumblers. "Anyone care to join me?"


The moment Wonder Woman awoke from the drugged powder attack the beatings began. And the pace was relentless. Pipes covered in towels were smashed against her body, so were heavy chains, small knives, blackjacks and needles. The heroine had been dragged back to consciousness by a stimulant because there were only about two hours left before she had to appear on the video that Scarecrow was sending over to the mayor's office.

What's more, because Dr. Crane wanted her to be in very bad shape both mentally and physically, he injected her arm with his fear toxin. Then Sarah stood by and spoke into her ear about the possibility of losing her belt and lasso. And sure enough, with her body still recovering from the knockout powder and the beatings and wounds, the thick steel manacles prevented the Amazon from not only breaking out of bondage but also from stopping Sarah from stealing her Girdle of Power. The very moment she felt her belt being pulled off her waist, the pain from the beatings increased ten-fold. She saw the golden lasso still attached to the belt being carried away, over to a steel cabinet into which both belt and lasso were locked away, out of her reach, her symbols of power and the trust of the gods. She wailed at her loss. The fear had become real and Wonder Woman was going to have that happen again and again.

Sarah would describe how a flashing length of chain might appear and there it would be, lashing out and cutting her cheek, her back, her ankles. And when Sarah brought up the possibility of a sharp knife suddenly there was one being jabbed into her thigh or her shoulder.

The more the damage occurred, the more the bruises started to appear all over her body. Her face received more than it's fair share of attention as did her breasts. Fists were pounded into her flesh like she was a heavy bag in a training gym. The thumps and grunts were steady and relentless. Saliva flew, blood splattered, eyes were blackened, wounds opened, screams and curses were heard. The brutality was endless over the course of those first 40 minutes.

And then Sarah instilled the terror of unwanted sex and listed the orifices involved, the organs to be presented, all the horrors she might undergo. And as sure as night follows day, those attacks came. Without her belt, Wonder Woman was a normal woman subject to all the humiliation and pain that forced sex could inflict. And inflicted it was by the two guards, by the Scarecrow and even by Sarah herself wearing a strap-on dildo. Every orifice was invaded, again and again, in position after position with no way to defend herself, bound as tightly as she was.

And after all the one-on-one sexual attacks had finished, Sarah whispered a new word, embedded a new fear in the mind of the Amazon warrior. A very old fear of her tribe of women: gang rape. And it too came, horrible and unending with nowhere to turn where there wasn't a penis being shoved into her crotch, her mouth, her rear. Simultaneous entry and then the heavy thrusting and the wet pulsing completions. The mindless carousel of pulsing pleasure and wild fear overwhelmed the famous beauty as she was taken to a hell of unending violation.

Finally, her mind broke. After less than two hours of non-stop assault by every means imaginable, she broke hard. The toxin and the truth of the instilled fears being realized drove Wonder Woman into a kind of insanity. Her body bucked mindlessly. Her language skills disappeared for a time. She wailed and screamed and wept until she had to be sedated only to be woken up by a mild stimulant in time for the filming of her and Batgirl hanging side by side. Driven to babbling incoherence by pain, drugs, dildos and despair. In a remarkably short span of time, the Scarecrow had completely destroyed the Champion of All Women, body and soul.


"Diana. Have you found Batgirl. Is she alright?" The Martian Manhunter probed tenuously into Wonder Woman's mind after not having heard anything from her in two days but not wanting to invade her privacy like he had before.

"Fuck everybody! Everybody fuck me. Fuck that, I need sex. But what if it hurts again? Don't want that. Not pain! No. But who the fuck knows what I need. I'm afraid of...."

J'onn recoiled, his mind snapping away from Wonder Woman's thoughts as if they burned. He'd never experienced Diana in that state and it was shocking. Where once there was peace and strength, he had felt rage and lust and fear as deep as any ocean. Frightened, the Martian reached out again, searching for the mind of the Themysciran.

"Wonder Woman....are you...."

"Get out of my head, fucking alien shit! You reek of judgement. Go. Fuck with some other cunt. This one's taken. Leave! LEAVE! FUCK YOU, J'ONN! GO FUCK YOURSELF. NO DON'T LEAVE! I'M AFRAID! DON'T GO! GET THE FUCK OUT OF DODGE, SHITHEAD!"

"Diana, where are you?"

"Taking it in the ass from Dr.Crane in Gotham, like I deserve. Beat it. He's giving it to me good."

"Address?"

"Suck My Clit Avenue. Chew My Nips Street. Fuck you, Martian."

"ADDRESS, BITCH! NOW!!" The Martian hoped fighting fire with fire would work.

"87 Dwyer Road. Fucking Gotham, you green slimeball. Happy? Wait, don't leave. Please, don't leave...not without jamming cock up my ass that is. Puke alien. Fuck off. Wait...wait...."

J'onn retreated again. Diana's mind was a terrifying muck of fear and rage and horror and lust. He couldn't even tell if it was drugs or her own mind gone around the bend. The latter prospect was chilling. The Martian called in the Flash to take over his monitor duties and left the JLA Watchtower. He had to get to Gotham immediately.


When he arrived at 4 p.m., just 15 minutes after he'd left the Watchtower, the Martian Manhunter scoped out the address, then shape-shifted into the form of a big bald orderly he had seen walking back from a van in the nearby alley. Giving the man a ten minute lead, J'onn calmly flew up to an open fourth floor window and followed the trail of Diana's thoughts without trying to reach out with his own. He didn't want any warning he gave her to give him away. She was too unstable to trust.

Tracking the erratic pulses of Wonder Woman's anguished mind was very disconcerting but he knew that this was the corridor leading to the room in which she was being held. J'onn sensed chains on Wonder Woman and saw a padlock on the set of double doors before him.

The elevator bell sounded and, as bad luck would have it, the very man that J'onn had impersonated was just exiting the elevator. He hadn't seen the Martian Manhunter who immediately phase shifted through the doors and jogged down the corridor sensing the rooms for mental signatures. The first room of interest was occupied by a dazed, barely conscious Batgirl, the one next to it by some writer who was extremely frustrated and wearing a jacket with arms that were far too long. The room across the corridor and two rooms away held Wonder Woman, a very confused and angry version of her. J'onn would have to calm her down.

Once again, he phase-shifted through the door and found Wonder Woman hanging from the ceiling hogtied in chains. Her eyes were rolled back under her lids and her hips were thrusting up and down. The heroine was right in the middle of an orgasm thanks to the vibrating dildos in her panties. The matched throbbing in her pussy and her ass were causing her to cream her crotch. J'onn was taken aback but then quickly realized her elevated feelings at least weren't rage-filled. If he got in there and calmed her mind down right now, he could get her out of here and then retrieve Batgirl and escape. Then, with fresh reinforcements, he could return and capture Scarecrow.

Walking under the jerking body of Wonder Woman and then further forward so he's no longer beneath her, the Martian Manhunter then slowly levitates straight up into the air until his face hovers before hers. Pulled up by the rope attached to the ball gag harnessing her head, the heavy-lidded beauty groans and moans as another wave of orgasmic pleasure flushes through her brain from the dildos thrumming inside her. It is the perfect time for the Martian to place his palms onto her face, encompassing her cheeks.

"Calm...calm...calm...calm...calm...calm...calm..." The waves of peace that J'onn's sending into Diana are soft slow and undulating to the same beat as J'onn's heart. And as the orgasm subsides in the Amazon, her heavy eyes open and she looks languidly at the face before her. It is Gustav's! She screams in shock.

The Martian in his haste to bring Wonder Woman peace in the opening provided by her post-orgasmic drowsiness had forgotten to shape shift back to his green-skinned self. He does this immediately but the wild-eyed Diana can't process this. To be less imposing, J'onn settles back down to the floor.

And then, Sarah Burkell, seeing on her security monitor a big floating Martian hovering in mid-air in Wonder Woman's cell does the only thing she can think of, she blasts him with a dart from a pressure tube hidden behind a wall painting. The dart hits J'onn directly in the face just as he comes to rest on the floor. And it explodes in a silvery mist.

Surprised by the dart and the spray, the Manhunter wipes his face and sniffs his fingers. And then he begins to feel afraid. It's an unreasonable fear that is heightened by one word shouted through the intercom speaker overhead. It is the voice of the Scarecrow and he is repeating this word over and over now, "Fire. Fire. Fire." He won't stop saying it and the Martian Manhunter covers his ears but it's too late, the idea has already been planted.

J'onn begins to shake in place. His body is trembling and his eyes search the room for any place that fire could take hold. With padding surrounding him, frankly it could take hold everywhere. It could surround him in just minutes. He wouldn't be able to escape. The flames would enclose him, would burn him, would sear his flesh.

He flails at the fear, his arms waving erratically, knocking into Wonder Woman, his amazing strength snapping the chains that bind her. She falls six feet to the tile with a thud. With no Girdle of Power, she is too stunned and hurt from the fall to do anything but lie there and try to block out the waves of pain she's enduring. She is free from the broken chains but some of scabs from her stab wounds have opened up and her bruised bones and battered flesh is too overwhelming to rise. She merely breathes and tries to gather herself on the cold floor.

Before her eyes, the Martian Manhunter is wild with fright. He is envisioning the orange and yellow death. It would consume him, turn him black, create howling pain. Flame could do that to him. Fire was the enemy and this whole room could be engulfed. In seconds, in mere seconds!

The Martian Manhunter loses his form, his fears driving him mad with worry. He can't hold his shape. His legs dissolve and then everything else follows until he is nothing but a green lake on the gray and yellow speckled tile. A puddle of mindless chaotic fear.

The puddle on the floor shocks Wonder Woman out of her own fear and the overwhelming pain coursing through her. She realizes for the first time in ages that she is calm. J'onn had broken through the Scarecrow's toxin with his mind and neutralized it. The Champion of All Women is back! She struggles to her feet and wavers there for a moment, drawing on her warrior willpower and her anger.

When the door to her cell opens up and Gustav comes barreling in, the Amazon's instincts kick in and she chops him down with a fist to the throat that crushes the man's adam's apple and knocks him onto his back, gagging and wheezing. A stomp to his head puts him out for the count. The pain in her body still sings within her but so does the pleasure of taking out one of the foes who had so brutally dominated her just 30 minutes previously.

Nobody else comes running in so Wonder Woman goes jogging out with a noticeable limp. She's anxious to get to Batgirl and save her as soon as possible but immediately spots Roland just exiting the Gallant Gothamite's room. He's just locking up after checking on her. The Amazon launches herself into the short stocky blonde, her arms coming together to smash against the side of his head with both Feminum bracelets. The concussion drops Roland like a stone and Wonder Woman retrieves his key ring.

She opens Batgirl's door and tucks the key ring into her cleavage for safe keeping. And then she has a memory of her belt being taken and put into a drawer back in her cell. She runs painfully back there and unlocks the drawer. Her belt is still there! Her lasso, too! Both almost radiate up at her. She wraps the belt around her and clasps it shut. The power flowing through her is a like a friend welcoming her home after a long journey. Her

Quickly, she returns to Batgirl's room and breaks the tie-down clamp with a jolt of her fist, she lowers her dazed friend to the ground and easily rips apart the red nylon cord binding the Gotham Wonder. Suspecting that Batgirl's utility belt is tucked away in the same style cabinet, Wonder Woman unlocks the top drawer and there it is, waiting for her.

Kneeling beside Batgirl, Diana shakes her hard to wake her up. With it being between injections, the caped crusader is not the wild-eyed panicked young woman she'd been for days.

"Diana, wh..what's happening?"

Pulling her into a sitting position, Wonder Woman wraps her arm around her friend's shoulder and squeezes her with a firm hug. "We're getting out of here. But not before we take out Scarecrow and that bitch Sarah. Are you with me?"

"Uhhh...y..yes...but...first....I need a shot...hold on....a moment.." Reaching down to the utility belt draped over Diana's arm, the young woman withdraws a stiff piece of yellow plastic and snaps off its top. She jolts the tiny pin there into her outer thigh and squeezes the plastic. Whatever drug is in the dose she's given herself brightens the cowled heroine's eyes in just a few seconds. Looking into the concerned Amazon's eyes, Batgirl then declares. "Now, try to stop me," says Babs, standing up and sliding on her belt.

"Let's go," urges Diana.

"No, wait!" Batgirl grabs the Amazon's upper arm and tugs her back. "Do you need a shot like the one I just gave myself?

"No, my belt has taken care of my injuries for now."

"Okay then, but still take this," Barbara says, handing her a pill from a tube in her belt. "Anti-Toxin."

"Ahh, good thought," Diana nods.

The both swallow it and then they rush out of the room into the hallway.

Speak of the devil, Sarah Burkell and the Scarecrow are standing there before the double doors leading to this locked ward, blocking their exit.

"Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of....fear!" Scarecrow tosses a steel ball at the two heroines' feet and it explodes into a ball of smoke. The grinning villain crosses his arms, disbelieving how easy it was to take these two bimbos down yet again. The smile falters when they come dashing out of the cloud. Wonder Woman tackles him hard, knocking his back against the steel door. She follows it up with a right cross that twists the burlap bag hard to the left. Scarecrow collapses to his butt and then slumps over on his side, knocked into next Tuesday.

Batgirl's flying mule kick to Sarah's gut doubles over the redhead with a gasp. Barbara's follow-up elbow chop drops her adversary to the floor like a pile of bricks.

"That was almost too fast to be satisfying," Batgirl declares, striking a pose with her hands on her hips.

"I agree. I'm tempted to kick them both around for another 10 minutes," Diana states, "but I've got a puddle of Martian Manhunter to collect and there should be a good looking blogger around here somewhere as well. SETH! SETH KINGMAN," Wonder Woman shouts.

"IN HERE!" comes the reply from G-3. "Get me out of this thing! I've had this itch for 3 hours and I can't reach it!"

"I'll be right there," Wonder Woman says, pulling the key ring out from between her breasts.

"Hey, is it all over?" Asks Seth.

"Yes, at last, it is. It really is," smiles Wonder Woman.

"Great," says the voice inside the cell. "I get an exclusive!"

"It's a deal," grants Wonder Woman without a fear in sight.

The End