Batgirl: Sex Bomb

This story is the sixth in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures, mainly based on characters in the early Batman comics and that wonderful '60s TV series but with the timeline brought up to date.

Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal use. No copyright infringement is intended.

The Adventures Of Batgirl

Batgirl: Sex Bomb

Chapter 3: If The Noose Fits...

Thursday, 12:44 pm

Phil parked up the black and white in the first available parking space, then walked back the fifty yards or so, to the gaudily painted entrance to The Pink Armadillo. The gay bar looked busy enough, with a healthy sized lunchtime crowd filling the place and the pounding beat of loud pop music cutting through the smoke-laden atmosphere.

He strode through the doorway, into the relatively dimly lit interior, his leather service-issue boots clunking on the wooden flooring. The general hubbub died down, as he walked over toward the counter, as all eyes turned to check out the uniformed newcomer. Phil casually glanced around the room. The place was full of men, mostly in pairs, with a few of them holding hands. Two guys were dancing, intimately, over by an old-fashioned jukebox.

Phil swallowed, nervously. He figured he was probably the only guy in the place, who wasn't wearing makeup and he felt a faint tingle of apprehension run up his spine.

"What can I do for you, officer?" enquired the barkeep, a big, bald-headed, powerfully built guy, who obviously worked out a lot. He was wearing a pair of tight denim jeans and a black leather vest without a shirt beneath it. A nametag on the vest, just above his left pectoral, proclaimed his name as 'Hans'. His muscular arms were covered in an intricate pattern of tattoos. He continued to dry and polish a glass tumbler on a cleaning cloth, while he eyed the tall, blond policeman up and down, obviously liking what he saw.

"Er, has anyone been asking for me?" Phil enquired, going red around the ears, not quite sure where to begin. The note could've been some sort of gag played on him by one of his fellow officers, but he didn't think so.

"It depends on who YOU are, Big Boy?" the bartender replied, a broad grin lighting up his ugly features.

Phil found himself blushing even more. "Officer Phil Thackeray, GCPD," he replied, trying to sound as authoritative as possible. Phil didn't regard himself as being homophobic, but there was no way that he was going to do anything that might encourage the advances of this obviously homosexual person.

The guy's eyes opened wide and he placed a hand on his waist, as he deliberately struck an effeminate pose. "So, you're Officer Thackeray, huh? Yeah, there wuz a couple of guys in here earlier, askin' after you, handsome. Claimed they had some important information for you!"

Phil's eyes lit up. "What sort of information?"

"Search me, officer? I ain't their confidant. Never seen either one of 'em before today."

"Are they still around?" Phil asked, trying to keep the note of excitement out of his voice.

"I think they may still be out back? Through that door over there!" The bartender nodded toward a closed door at the rear of the smoke-filled room. It had the words 'STAFF ONLY' stenciled upon it.

"Thanks!"

As the policeman turned and headed for the indicated doorway, he didn't see the barkeep press a small red button, just under the lip of the counter, or the smug, knowing grin on his ugly mug.

As he opened the door and stepped through, Phil kept his right hand hovering over his holstered service pistol, just in case. He found himself in a narrow, dimly lit hallway, with a couple of doors leading off from it, on the right-hand side and another closed door at the far end, no doubt leading to the rear yard of the premises.

"Hello, is anyone there?" he called out. There was no answer, just the muffled sound of the music filtering through from the smoky room he'd just left.

"Anyone here?"

There was still no reply.

Phil didn't like the look of this and considered calling in and asking for some backup. Pulling out his service pistol, he gently tried the handle of the nearest door. The door was unlocked. He eased it open a few inches and stuck his head inside the room.

"Anyone aroun..." His words were cut off, as the heavy butt of a gun slammed down on the back of his skull and he slumped to the floor, unconscious, with just the briefest of groans.

A giant of a man stepped from alongside the doorway and stood astride the motionless policeman, who was sprawled out on the carpet, face down. Blood was already starting to seep out of nasty looking wound on the back of his head.

"The plan worked like a dream, Shorty, just like the boss said it would!" the big man chortled, addressing his companion, a puny, undernourished type, wearing a multi-colored Hawaiian shirt, white slacks and a black derby perched on the back of his head, who had just watched the scene unfold.

"I still don't like it!" muttered Shorty, shaking his head and staring up at his tall but somewhat overweight partner, Bull. "Kidnappin' a cop ain't part of the original deal! At some point, we shall have to bump this guy off."

"So?"

"Cop killers are always hunted down, no matter how long it takes," the short guy replied, darkly.

"You've been readin' too many cheap detective novels. By then, we will be long gone, and rich beyond our wildest dreams. I figure we've really fallen on our feet, this time."

-oOo-

When Officer Thackeray hadn't reported in for more than an hour, Dispatch tried to contact him, without success. Like most other dispatchers, police dispatchers were usually civilians employed by the department. Their duties included monitoring the location of on-duty police officers and dispatching the appropriate type and number of units, in response to calls for assistance.

Fifteen minutes later, with still no response, the female dispatcher reported her concerns to her immediate superior.

Two hours later, the empty cruiser was located and a city-wide hunt for the missing officer was immediately set into motion.

Thursday, 4:20 pm

Police Commissioner Jim Gordon, looked up from his desk, at the two costumed crime-fighters standing before him, arms folded across their manly chests and booted feet placed slightly apart.

"Thank you for coming in at such short notice, gentlemen, but a very worrying situation has arisen," he began, a grave look on his face. "One of our finest officers has disappeared, while carrying out further investigations into the recent weapons heist, that occurred right here in police headquarters, as you are no doubt aware." He paused, an embarrassed expression on his face, before continuing. "The young officer's name is Phil..."

"...Thackeray," finished off the Caped Crusader, with a grave nod. "Yes, Commissioner, Robin and I were already aware of his recent involvement in this case."

Jim Gordon's eyes had widened in astonishment. "You never fail to amaze me, Batman!" he gasped. "It was only yesterday afternoon, that Officer Thackeray was given permission to re-open what appeared to be an investigation which had all but ground to an unsatisfactory halt."

The Dark Knight smiled, grimly. "I do have my independent sources, Commissioner. I don't think it is merely a coincidence that Officer Thackeray disappeared after becoming involved in this particular case. Now, do you have any further details about the officer's last known movements?"

Commissioner Gordon nodded. "His police cruiser was found parked about fifty yards from a city centre 'Gay Bar', with the ridiculous name of 'The Pink Armadillo', a notorious hang-out for some of Gotham City's low-life, who are that way inclined." The Commissioner snorted, indignantly, before continuing. "He disappeared sometime after 12:30 pm., which was the last time he reported in on his police radio."

"And there is nothing to suggestion that this particular officer was gay and had maybe been paying a, um, a social visit to this particular bar?"

"Certainly NOT, Caped Crusader! None of my officers would socialize, while on duty. Anyway, another of my officers has since come forward to say that Thackeray had spoken to him earlier, and said he was going there 'to ask questions'!"

"Did this other officer learn any more about the reason for this visit?"

Jim Gordon shook his head. "No, unfortunately."

"Hmm? Have your men questioned the staff at this bar, Jim?"

"Of course, Caped Crusader, but they claimed that Officer Thackeray never even set foot inside the place."

"Maybe he didn't? Leave it with us, old friend, and we'll try to get to the bottom of this."

"Yeah, if Officer Thackeray is still alive, we'll find him, Commissioner," added the Boy Wonder, punching one gloved fist into the palm of his other hand, for added emphasis.

Thursday, 4:31 pm

Barbara stared at the telephone on her desk, willing the damned thing to start ringing. She had just checked her watch for the umpteenth time. Phil had promised to phone her, with an update on any progress he had made on the case. Hopefully, he would also ask to meet her somewhere, after work, so they could map out their future strategy. She sighed in frustration and continued to stare at the phone.

She slid a hand up under her short skirt and eased her fingers under the waistband of her lacy panties. Stiffened fingers began to saw up and down against her labia, as she attempted to relief the sexual tension that had been building up all day. She threw her head and shoulders back, eyes closed, as her breathing became ragged and uneven, her hand rubbing ferociously against her hot, aching sex. Small delighted gasps started to escape from between her slack lips. “Ah, ah, ahh!”

Brrring, brrring! Brrring, brrring...

The ringing phone caused her to give a guilty start and she pulled her hand out of her panties and snatched up the receiver. "Yes?" she gasped into the mouthpiece, still a little breathless.

"Barbara, is that you?" enquired a familiar voice on the other end of the line.

"Bruce?" She didn't know whether to laugh, hysterically, or to cry. She frowned, as she realized the unusual nature of the call. "What's up, Bruce, what's happened?" she demanded, tugging down the hem of her skirt with her free hand.

"I'm currently in my Batman persona, by the way. Are you all right, Barbara? You sound a little breathless."

"Why did you call me, Batman?" she asked, through clenched teeth.

"It's Officer Thackeray, Barbara."

Barbara felt a cold chill run down her spine. "W-What's happened, Batman?" she demanded, her stomach tightening into a hard knot.

"He's disappeared! We're pretty certain he was working on the weapons heist case, at the time."

"DAMN! It's all my fault! I was the one who dragged him in on this investigation." Barbara felt tears starting to well up in her eyes.

"Don't be silly! It's not your fault, Barbara. Thackeray must have built himself a damned good reputation, in the short time he's been with the GCPD, for them to take him out of the picture, before he'd barely got started in on the case. At least there's no indication that they've got rid of him permanently! We suspect he's been kidnapped, by the way."

"Where are you? I'll get over there as fast as I can!"

"Now don't go getting your panties all in a twist, Barbara! There's nothing you can do about it, at the moment. Robin and I will meet you back in the Bat-cave, in an hour's time."

Barbara felt a flush of indignation at the implied insult. "But, Batman..."

"No 'buts', see you there. Better wear your Batgirl outfit. I will let you know all the details when you get there."

"But, I..."

There was a click, as the call was abruptly terminated.

"Damn, damn, damn!" she muttered, replacing the receiver then clenching both fists by her sides, in frustration. She glanced up at the clock on the office wall. "I'll have to leave work a little early. I'm sure Mr. Peabody won't mind," she muttered, jumping up and heading for the door, collecting her coat on the way out.

Thursday, 4:48 pm

Officer Phil Thackeray's mind slowly swam back to consciousness and he swayed, drunkenly, almost collapsing. His legs felt like they were made of rubber and his head throbbed with pain. He realized that the low groans that he could hear, were issuing from his own lips. As his eyes slowly fluttered open, he realized that he was standing in an upright position, supported by two sets of hands, which were firmly gripping his forearms. His wrists appeared to be crossed and tightly bound together, behind his back.

It was at this point, that he realized he was naked. This wasn't strictly accurate, since he was still wearing his boxer shorts, but all his other items of clothing had been stripped off him.

As the surroundings swam into focus, Phil realized he was no longer in The Pink Armadillo, but in some sort of a large hanger or warehouse, long since abandoned if the dusty, dilapidated look of the place was anything to go by. A solitary beam of early evening sunlight shone through a cracked and filthy skylight, in the corrugated steel roof, reflecting off a myriad of dust particles suspended in the atmosphere.

He seemed to be standing, somewhat precariously, on a rickety wooden chair, with his ankles bound together. Something coarse and tight fitting had been placed around his neck and he cautiously turned his head, to peer behind him, out of the corner of his eye. His blood ran cold, as he realized that his neck had been placed in a hangman's noose. The sturdy hemp rope had been looped over an overhead girder before being tied off to a large double hook fixed to the nearby wall, after first taking up the slack in the line.

The set of hands gripping his right arm, released him, and their owner stepped around in front of him. He was a little runt of a guy, wearing a multi-colored Hawaiian shirt and a black derby hat. A pair of narrow black suspenders worn over his oversized shirt supported his baggy white trousers.

"Wha..." Phil's mouth struggled to form the word. He felt as if he was going to be violently sick at any moment. "Wha... what happened? W-Why? Why have you done this to me?" he finally managed to get out. At that same moment, his brain finally registered the faint sickly-sweet smell of chloroform, still clinging to his hair and skin.

The man gave him a mirthless smile, revealing a set of chipped and nicotine stained teeth in the process. "Bull is now gonna release your other arm, copper. Try not ta fall off of that chair, or it will be the last thing you will ever do! Har, har, har!"

"But why?" croaked the still groggy law officer. He could feel something wet and sticky trickling down behind his right ear and he instinctively knew that it was his own blood, coming from the throbbing wound in the back of his skull.

"The boss figured it wouldn't be long before ya got on the trail of the gun thieves, Thackeray, so he decided on a pre-emptive strike. He reckons you're the closest thing to a bloodhound that the police department has. Har, har, har!"

The short hoodlum was now joined by his tall hefty companion, Bull. Phil blinked his eyes, taking in the description of the second man, while trying not to lose his precarious balance on the rickety old chair. "Kind of your boss to say so!" he croaked, ironically.

"Yeah, with you outta the equation, we can continue with our plans, uninterrupted," added Bull, a big grin on his ugly mug. He ran his hot, hungry eyes up and down the athletic figure of the near-naked policeman and licked his thick lips. "An' maybe have us a little fun, at the same time?" he added, followed by a fresh chuckle. He reached out a hand and brushed his fingertips over the front of the policeman's boxers, before cupping his testicles through the material and gently squeezing them.

"Who... who is your boss?" Phil asked, gruffly, trying to ignore the touch and keep his thighs from trembling. "Neither of you seem to have sufficient gray matter to be the brains behind this caper."

"Wouldn't ya like to know, Mr. Nosy Policeman," retorted Shorty. Both hoodlums cackled, mirthlessly. "Now don't try nothing stupid, while we're away," he added. "An' try not to fall asleep or you will never wake up again! Har, har, har!"

They both turned and exited through a nearby door, still chuckling, leaving the police officer alone in his perilous predicament.

Thursday, 5:29 pm

"Okay, what the hell happened?" snapped Batgirl, storming over and standing with both clenched fists on her hips, her fabulous size 36C breasts thrust forward, belligerently, beneath the clinging stretch material of her sexy sheer Bat-costume.

Batman rose up out of the chair in front of the Bat-computer, to meet the Dynamic Dare Doll head on. "Calm down, Batgirl. This is no time to let your heart rule your pretty little head," he advised.

"What the hell is THAT supposed to mean?" she snapped, angrily, tears glistening in her big green eyes. Batman could be such a stuffy pain in the butt at times.

"If we're going to locate and rescue Officer Thackeray, we ALL need to remain cool, calm and collected," the Caped Crusader replied, seriously.

Barbara blinked away her tears and started to calm down. Batman was right of course. "Sorry, Caped Crusaders! Okay, what do we know about Officer Thackeray's disappearance?"

"Apparently, he was checking out a 'Gay Bar', known as 'The Pink Armadillo', located in the heart of Gotham City's entertainment district, about 11:30 this morning, when he disappeared," explained the Boy Wonder.

"A GAY bar?" exclaimed the Dark Damsel, in an incredulous tone. "Why on earth would he be visiting a 'Gay Bar'?"

"Maybe he was gay himself?" replied Robin, with a dirty snigger.

"NO WAY!" she snapped, vigorously shaking her cowled head. "That is one thing I am CERTAIN of."

Batman and Robin exchanged knowing glances, eyebrows raised.

"Actually, we think the place may have something to do with the weapons heist," Batman explained. "His police cruiser was found parked nearby and we understand that he was going there to ask a few questions, but the employees and customers of the bar, all claim they never set eyes on him."

"Somebody's lying," Batgirl snapped, her green eyes glittering with barely restrained anger.

"Probably!" Batman agreed, non-committally.

"So, what do we do next? The longer we stand here, dithering, the greater the chance that his abductors will finish Phil off... PERMANENTLY!"

"We are NOT dithering!" retorted the Caped Crusader, indignantly.

"We intend to visit the place tonight and throttle the truth out of them if we have to," Robin added, smacking one gloved fist into the palm of the other.

"Hopefully, we will find someone who can shed some light on events," Batman corrected, frowning at his youthful partner's outburst.

"I want to come with you," Batgirl insisted.

"I'm afraid it's a 'Men Only' establishment, Batgirl."

"And you could hardly be mistaken for a man," Robin added, with a broad smirk on his youthful features. "Especially in that particular outfit!" It was clearly evident that the only item of underwear the Dark Angel was wearing beneath her sheer catsuit, was a tightly clinging, black thong and that was barely fit for purpose.

The redhead found herself blushing under his penetrating gaze. The Boy Wonder's hot eyes seemed to be trying to undress her.

"I still insist on coming!" she said, stubbornly.

"Hmm, yes! Very well, you can come with us, but you will have to remain outside," Batman agreed, reluctantly. "If we're not out of the place after fifteen minutes, you'd better contact the police and get them to raid the establishment."

Barbara nodded her agreement, realizing it was the best deal she was going to get.