Batgirl The Vampyre Caper Ch 06

This story is the seventh 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 the present.

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

The Adventures Of Batgirl

Batgirl: The Vampyre Caper

Chapter 6: Sex, Drugs & Rock 'n Roll

It was almost 10:00 pm, when Batgirl slid down the Bat-pole into the Bat-cave. She was wearing her molecular Bat-costume and thong, along with her other, more recognizable Batgirl accessories. She strolled over to Batman, her hips swaying, sexily. The Caped Crusader was sitting in front of the Bat-computer, correlating all the available details on the vampire killings. The Dark Damsel casually glanced around. There was no sign of the Boy Wonder anywhere in the immediate vicinity of the extensive subterranean cavern.

She stopped in front of the Dark Avenger, deliberately placing her hands on her hips and thrusting out her spectacular purple coated breasts, with their large dark areolas and prominent nipples. "You wanted to see me, Batman?" she enquired, huskily, making deliberate eye contact with him.

"Er, yes, yes I did, Batgirl," the Caped Crusader acknowledged.

She raised one high-heeled ankle boot and placed it on the computer desk alongside the Dark Knight, before casually resting her elbow on the raised thigh and propping up her chin with the palm of her hand. This had the effect of stretching the already tightly clinging thong almost to breaking point and, at the same time, forcing the material deep into her vaginal cleft. "Well, here I am."

Batman's gaze was drawn to her crotch like iron fillings to a magnet. "You, ah, you didn't have to change into your new Batgirl outfit, Barbara," he croaked, his throat suddenly dry. "I, er, I just wanted to have a quiet word with you."

The redhead reached out and ran a hand down his clean-shaven cheek. "Why," she murmured, with a sexy pout, "don't you like it?"

"It's, ah, very nice, but totally inappropriate for your vigilante patrols," replied the embarrassed crime-fighter. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, by the way." He paused to clear his throat, nervously. "That costume is altogether too revealing, too um, provocative and impractical."

"Oh? In that case, I'd better get rid of it," Batgirl replied, with an amused twist to her lilac painted lips.

The Caped Crusader swallowed hard but nodded his agreement. "Yes, I, ah, I think that would be for the best, Barbara," he concurred, hoping that the bulge that had developed in his Bat-briefs wasn't too obvious.

Her hand rose up and she pressed the button on the front of her collar.

The Caped Crusader stared in amazement, as the purple molecular layer flowed back into her choker like the ebb tide from a sandy beach, leaving her naked apart from her thong and familiar accessories of cape, cowl, utility belt and heels.

"Good grief, Barbara," he gasped, wide-eyed. "You're almost nude! This is most embarrassing. Please turn your costume back on."

Instead, Batgirl dragged aside the crotch of her thong panties and, hooking her other hand behind his neck, dragged his face up against her exposed hairless mons, before the Caped Crusader realized what she was going to do.

"What are you do..." he started to say, but his alarmed protest was cut off, as she pulled his face tight up against her pussy.

"Cut the long drawn-out sermon and eat my pussy, Batman," she crooned, writhing her hips with pleasure, as she felt his tongue slip into her gaping sex. Whether this had been by accident or design, she didn't really care. "That's it," she encouraged.

The Caped Crusader was no different from any other red-blooded male and soon began to lick and suck, enthusiastically, as she took a firm grip on his bat ears and thrust her hips forward, riding his face.

As Batgirl felt her climax approaching, her breathing grew shorter and she reached up and activated the Vampirium layer once more. Soon, her eyes began to glow with a hellish red light and the needle sharp fangs began to extend from her upper jaw. Her eyes locked onto the exposed part of Batman's neck, just to the side of his square jaw, as she started to orgasm, grinding her oozing sex up against his face. "Yes, yes," she panted. "Deeper, Batman!"

Batman finally pulled his face away, gasping for breath. "I... I'm terribly sorry, Barbara, I don't know... what came... over me," he panted, his voice heavy with remorse. Then he froze and his eyes widened in horror, as he saw Batgirl open her mouth wide, ready to plunge her dripping fangs into the exposed part of his flesh.

"BATMAN!"

The warning cry jarred Batman out of his almost trance-like state and, with a sudden powerful heave, he thrust the Dark Angel away from him, catching her by surprise and breaking her hold about his neck. Batgirl lost her precarious balance on her single high-heeled ankle boot and tumbled backward to the smooth cement floor of the Bat-cave, landing on her shapely ass with a yelp of unsuppressed fury.

"Watch out, Robin," Batman cried out in warning, as the Boy Wonder ran toward them. "BATGIRL IS THE VAMPIRE!"

Batgirl scrambled to her high-heeled feet, spitting and snarling like some sort of caged wild animal. She had just been deprived of her life giving sustenance at the very last instant, but she still retained enough logical reasoning to realize that she would be no match for both of the Caped Crusaders at once. Crouching low, she sprinted for the stone staircase that led to the mansion above, moving at an incredible speed.

"Stop her, Robin," Batman cried, struggling up out of his computer chair, copious amounts of girl cum glistening on his square chin.

Robin threw a deadly Batarang, but the potentially lethal weapon just bounced off the girl's purple-coated shoulder, as if it had been made from papier-mache. "Damn, she's getting away!" he cried, in sheer frustration, chasing after the fast receding figure.

Batgirl sprinted through the Great Hall, barging aside the old, white-haired butler and sending him tumbling to the floor, as she headed for the main entrance to Wayne Manor. Robin followed, seconds later, almost stumbling over Alfred in his haste to catch up with his incredibly fast moving quarry.

"Sorry, Alfred, but Batgirl is the vampire," the Boy Wonder called out, as he ran out of the door after the purple temptress.

Batman arrived, moments later, but paused to kneel alongside the fallen manservant. "Are you alright, Alfred?" he asked, in a concerned voice.

"I'm unharmed, sir. Better go help Master Dick."

As Batman rose to his feet, Robin re-appeared in the open doorway. "She's got away," he croaked in an incredulous voice. "She just vanished into the night. It's almost as if she turned into a bat and flew into the sky."

Batman smiled, grimly. "I don't think that part of the legend is very factual, old chum but at least, we now know the identity of the vampire."

"Yeah, Batgirl, who would've guessed," the Boy Wonder growled, slamming one gloved fist into the palm of the other, in utter frustration. "I still find it hard to believe."

"I should've guessed, Robin," Batman chastised himself, with a shake of his cowled head. "The clues were all there. Unfortunately, Batgirl knows just about every bolt-hole in Gotham City, so it's going to be a difficult task, trying to flush out our blood-sucking vampiress."

"Would anyone care for a cup of tea?" enquired Alfred, getting to his feet, unflustered, and brushing the dust smudges off his uniform.

-oOo-

"WHAT?" Sparrow almost spilled the cup of Earl Gray tea, down the front of her heroine costume, such was her surprise. Batman had just calmly informed her that Barbara was a vampiress. "You... you must be joking! This IS a wind-up, isn't it guys?"

Sparrow peered at the three men sitting around the one end of the impressive conference table in the Great Hall of old mansion, but none of them appeared to be smiling. "You're serious about this, aren't you?" she added, incredulously, but with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Jennifer had hurried over to Wayne Manor, as soon as she'd received the phone call from Bruce, telling her that something urgent had cropped up. The multi-millionaire had refused to discuss what it was about, over the telephone, insisting that they discuss it face to face.

Batman nodded, grimly. "I came very close to becoming her next victim, earlier this evening," he revealed. The Dark Knight proceeded to give the Costumed Cutie a brief summary of the night's startling revelations.

When he'd finished his tale, Sparrow, sat back in silence, absorbing the startling information. Finally, she spoke up. "I think it's all got something to do with that dead scientist, Dr. Zarkhov, the first of the vampire's victims. He'd only recently arrived in the United States from Transylvania, the place where vampires are supposed to originate from."

"Oh, yeah?" Robin sneered, disbelievingly. "I suppose you're gonna tell us next, that the old guy was Count Dracula's great, great grandfather?"

Jennifer ignored this thinly veiled sarcasm. "No, but he WAS the inventor of Barbara's latest Batgirl costume. It's made from some recently discovered element called Vampirium."

"Vampirium? Never heard of it," Batman muttered, with an accompanying frown. "There's been no mention of it in any of the leading scientific journals."

"Neither has anyone else, Caped Crusader. I originally thought the name was someone's idea of a joke, but now I'm not so sure. Barbara claims that her new costume is comprised of an ultra thin layer of this extremely dense element, and that it's sufficient to stop the hardest of knife blows and all but the most powerful of bullets."

"Impressive, if true! That must've been the stuff that I saw oozing into the collar about her neck, at the touch of a button."

"Correct, Caped Crusader! It takes only seconds to create or remove the molecular layer. I suspect that her new costume is the key to all these murders. The victims are always drained of blood when Batgirl is present and she is wearing it."

"And she also seems to have this overpowering urge to have sex with her chosen victim, before draining him or her dry," the Boy Wonder added, excitedly. "I think you may have struck paydirt there, Jen."

"Furthermore, she always seems to have these spells of amnesia during the vampire attacks, while she's wearing that costume," Sparrow pointed out.

"Yes indeed," Alfred interjected. "The amnesia could be some sort of defense mechanism, that her mind uses to shut out the horrors of her blood frenzy."

The other three all nodded their agreement with this tentative hypothesis.

"Well, we've got to get our hands on her before she strikes again," Batman muttered, grimly, banging a gloved fist on the table. "Then we can remove that collar from about her neck and subject it to the closest scientific scrutiny, over at the WayneTech research labs."

"One small problem, Batman."

He looked at Sparrow, quizzically. "Problem?"

"The collar and those matching bracelets about her wrists, cannot be removed. When she first put them on, they apparently cold-welded themselves into position."

"But that's impossible!"

She shook her head. "Zarkhov must've been a better scientist than most people give him credit for. I've looked at those copper bands and there's NO obvious way of getting them off, believe me!"

"That's all very well, but we have to catch her first," Alfred pointed out, with his calm, British logic. "Anyone got any ideas?"

-oOo-

Batgirl sat on the floor with her back against the wall, in the dusty stone lined chamber, hugging her knees to her prominent chest. Occasionally, the narrow open windows of the ancient bell tower, were starkly illuminated by bright flashes of sheet lightning, almost immediately followed by loud, menacing rumbles of thunder, indicating the nearness of the storm. The electrical storm had been building for over half an hour and a heavy downpour was imminent. The disused Gothic church that she had taken refuge in, had been abandoned many years before. The locked and barred doors, downstairs, had subsequently been forced open by looters, who had then stripped the place of worship of everything of any value. Even the heavy, cast bronze church bells had been removed, no doubt sold on to some unscrupulous scrap metal dealer, who didn't ask too many awkward questions.

Barbara recollected, vividly, her earlier encounter with Batman and Robin in the Bat-cave and realized, with a thrill of horror, that she had somehow turned into a blood-sucking vampiress, who had been foiled, just as she was about to engorge herself on the Caped Crusader's blood. The terrifying truth had finally been revealed to her but, equally as importantly, to others as well. Somehow, the Dark Angel had metamorphosised into a creature of the night, one who survived on the blood of her unfortunate victims.

Batgirl realized, with a start, that this meant it was no longer safe for her to return to Barbara Gordon's apartment, or to her place of employment. Soon, her ghoulish secret would become widespread knowledge and she could expect the whole of Gotham's considerable law enforcement facilities to be focused upon hunting down and caging the vampiress who stalked the city. Surprisingly, the thought of being tracked down by heavily armed police with hunting dogs, made her nipples grow hard and even more erect.

She groaned in sudden discomfort and rubbed the stiffened fingers of her right hand against the base of her belly, immediately above the tightly clinging thong. She needed to feed and only one thing could satisfy her inhuman cravings, BLOOD. She rose to her high-heeled feet, preparing to venture forth and hunt down some unsuspecting prey and satisfy her raging hunger.

As she approached the rickety wooden staircase that led down to the nave and chancel, Batgirl froze. She could hear male voices coming from somewhere below. She was no longer alone in her temporary refuge.

"Have ya got the money?" demanded a gruff, male voice.

"Yeah, but let's see the merchandise first!" came the reply.

Batgirl heard a double metallic click, as if someone had just sprung the twin catches of a suitcase.

"Pure Columbian, check it out."

There was the sound of footsteps echoing on the stone floor, then a knife sawing through tough plastic. A few moments passed.

"Seems okay. Manny, give the man his money. Wanna count it?"

There was a gruff chuckle. "Are ya kidding? Of course I do."

By now, Batgirl had silently crept part way down the narrow wooden staircase. She could just make out four men standing in the room below, surrounded by the remains of broken pews and the rubble strewn about the floor. All four men were wearing long overcoats with narrow brimmed trilby hats, pulled low on their foreheads, as if they were 1930s style gangsters. One of them was holding a small battered suitcase, while another was carefully counting the bundles of used banknotes, that were neatly packed into a leather briefcase. It was obvious that a major drugs deal was in the process of going down. She assumed that two of the men were probably the buyers and the remaining two the sellers.

She gently eased her right foot down onto the next lower step. There was a creak of protest from the rotten wooden tread, that sounded deafening in the comparative silence.

"What the hell was that?" snarled the tallest of the drug dealers, pulling an automatic pistol from his coat pocket and waving it around the room. "If this is some kinda trick..."

"Hey, we said no guns," protested the guy holding the stash of cocaine, looking distinctly alarmed by the sudden change in circumstances.

"I don't go no place without my piece," snarled the tall man, peering around. "I heard somethin' I tell ya."

"Look, there's someone over there, on the stairs!" cried the forth hoodlum, his outstretched arm pointing in Batgirl's direction.

"It's the Batgirl," snarled the tall guy, raising his pistol and loosing off a burst of hot lead, almost without thinking. The nave was filled with the noise of gunfire and the smell of cordite fumes, as his three companions all dived for cover with startled yelps.

Bullets sprayed the staircase, wood and stone chips flying in every direction. Several of the bullets ricocheted off Batgirl's purple Vampirium layer, without any apparent damage to the Dark Angel.

Batgirl laughed, delightedly, realizing she was almost invincible in her new outfit. "You think your puny peashooter can harm me," she sneered, confidently advancing another couple of steps down the rickety old staircase. "Well, you're gonna be sadly...."

There was a loud rumble as the staircase collapsed in a huge cloud of dust and flying debris.

-oOo-

Batgirl uttered a muffled groan, as she started to come around. Even her molecular costume hadn't been able to protect her from the large wooden support beam that had struck her on the back of the head, as she plunged to the floor below, along with the collapsing staircase. She shook her aching, throbbing head, trying to clear the swirling fog from her befuddled mind, then realized, with a thrill of fear, that she was standing with her arms pulled high above her head. Her wrists had been bound tightly together and the length of stout rope looped over a beam high above her head, before being drawn taut and tied off. Her ankles were similarly tied to a three-feet length of wood, part of a broken pew back, forcing her booted feet wide apart.

The scene before her gradually swam into focus, to reveal the four drug dealers standing in front of her, all eying her curvaceous body, hungrily. A sudden flash of lightning from beyond the open doorway, starkly illuminated her perilous predicament.

"I demand that you let me go at once!" she cried out, at the same time tugging at her bound wrists. Unfortunately, her words only came out as a muffled mumbling and even this was drowned out by a loud rumble of thunder from the brewing storm. Belatedly, Barbara realized that a wad of soft material had been stuffed into her mouth, and this was firmly held in place by a length of thick rope, tightly wrapped around her head. The rope dug deep into her cheeks.

She shook her cowled head in anger and frustration. "Mmmpphh! Mmmpphh!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

The guy with a face like a weasel, whose name happened to be Louie, chuckled, evilly. "Nice of ya to provide us with the gag, Batgirl."

With a thrill of disgust, Barbara realized that they must have removed her thong panties and stuffed them into her mouth, as a makeshift gag.

"I am afraid you've seen too much for your own good, Senorita," growled the tall Latino with the pencil thin mustache and itchy trigger finger. He gave an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. "We can't afford to let you live."

"Yeah, but that don't mean we can't have a little fun with ya, first," added weasel-face, his dark eyes glittering, ominously. "Chuck, strip that purple catsuit off of the bitch, even though it don't leave much to the imagination. Har, har, har!"

"Sure boss." Chuck, the muscle bound hood with the sunken piggy eyes in his bloated face, stepped over behind the Caped Cutie. "How the hell do ya get this thing off of her?" he queried, a few seconds later, removing his trilby hat and scratching his bald scalp. "This purple outfit looks like it wuz sprayed onto the bitch."

He ran his big beefy hands over the curves of Batgirl's tight ass cheeks, and Barbara belatedly realized that she was no longer wearing her utility belt slung low about her hips. She squirmed and shook her head, angrily, at this unwanted invasion of her body.