Chapter Five
June 19th, 7:25 AM
"Eat up, Blue Lynx," Sunny commanded. "Come on. Take a bite."
Erin stared at the spoon with bloodshot eyes. There was some kind of mush heaped on top of it that looked objectively unappealing, mush that was almost certainly laced with one of Sunny's drugs. She knew she shouldn't eat it, and yet, she was so, so hungry. Her stomach had been growling for the last ten hours. She needed sustenance, she didn't care what it was...
"No," Erin said, shaking her head. "I won't."
She couldn't do it. Not this way. Not strapped into a high-chair, manacled with straps, with Sunny dancing around in front of her like Erin was a big baby.
"Awww... What's the matter, Baby Blue?" Sunny asked. "You feeling camera shy, again?"
Erin involuntarily flashed her eyes at the henchman carrying the phone, who snapped a picture of the moment. It was either he, his henchman pal, or Sunny who had been tracking her every move since Sunny had first laid out her plans. They were creating a photo record of Erin's humiliation; a scene-by-scene account of how the Blue Lynx was defeated; yours for the right price. They had staged this shot, with the kitchen table, high-chair, and Sunny spooning mush, just as they'd staged others: Erin tied hand and foot to some "train tracks," Erin being cocooned by a thug dressed as a giant spider, Erin trussed up like Houdini on the verge of being dunked in a tank. Though each of those situations was truly embarrassing, none of them was actually dangerous. What seemed more threatening to Erin-- and even more humiliating-- were Sunny's "candid" shots: Erin getting dressed, Erin passed out, Erin being carted from one place to another, Erin completely nude. These were the images that dramatically undermined Erin's superheroine mission. There were the images she desperately, helplessly hoped she could keep from the public.
They had changed her into a variety of costumes, posing her like a 3D model, taking full advantage of the drugs that still coursed through Erin's bloodstream. She was in her Blue Lynx costume now-- minus her utility belt, gloves, and boots-- which made her simultaneously feel stronger and more ashamed. Could she even call herself a superheroine after this treatment?
"You're in a daze, again," Sunny said. "Snap out of it, Blue Lynx." She snapped her fingers in front of Erin's nose. "Eat this. Fucking take the spoon."
Erin glared at Sunny. "I'd rather starve than eat your cooking."
Sunny shook her head and sighed. Without warning, she shot her free hand behind Erin's head and gripped her captive by the hair.
"You don't have a fucking say in the matter," Sunny said, pulling Erin's head back, forcing her mouth open with sheer pain. "Eat it!" Sunny shoved the spoon into Erin's lips. She then removed the spoon and held Erin's mouth shut with her fingers, staring her foe down until Erin swallowed.
Sunny sat back in her chair, letting the spoon clatter on the table. "Phew," she said. "That was a tough one."
Erin hacked. The mush tasted awful from the beginning and was only getting worse. It seemed to coat her insides, like grease, and she could already feel a burning in her stomach.
"What... did you just...?" she coughed.
"I wouldn't worry about it too much, Blue Lynx," Sunny said. "It's just a little formula designed to get some of your strength back. We need you in fighting shape for the next shoot."
"Fighting... shape?"
Sunny nodded and smiled. "I think we've generated enough photo content for a while. It's time to produce some more... Dynamic fare."
Erin grimaced. The taste of Sunny's food still lingered in her mouth. But somehow, she also felt more lucid. Her vision had cleared, and she sensed a tension in her muscles that she hadn't noticed in days. It was a like there was a battle raging within her between Sunny's tranquilizers and this gross new stimulant.
"It's going to take an hour for it to really kick in," Sunny said. "We better clean you up in the meantime." She pointed at the henchman, who pocketed the phone and walked over to Erin. As he fiddled with the knots securing her to high-chair, Sunny picked up a walkie talkie. "I need one more in here," she ordered.
Erin had already been in this situation several times: watching a guard untie her, but being too exhausted to try to escape. And yet, as the thug pulled her out of the chair and set her on her boots, she felt an odd sensation-- she could support herself. For the first time in days, walking seemed like a physical possibility. Did Sunny know how potent her drug was? She had been so careful to not give the Blue Lynx a single inch, but now, Erin's arms and legs were untied. There was just a few bursts of energy separating her from making a break for it...
"I know what you're thinking," Sunny said. "But I wouldn't get too excited, Blue Lynx. Take her to the showers."
The guard clamped his hands on Erin's shoulders and spun her around. Once again, her weakness was obvious to her and everyone else, as the guard half-carried, half-dragged her with a minimum of effort through the door, into the hallway, and then into another door.
"Bastard," Erin muttered.
"Shut up," the guard replied. He pulled her across wet, white tiles and finally threw her on the floor. She hit the ground, made a small sound of pain, and slowly rolled over, looking up and around. She was in a stall of some kind; there was a drain on the floor to her left. The room had a smell that was simultaneously fresh and harsh, the result of heavy disinfectant. A second henchman had joined the first. They were both watching her from outside of the doorless stall, standing next to a counter pocketed with metal sinks.
"Get up," the new henchman barked.
Erin rolled her eyes as she got to her knees, and then slowly clambered to her feet. She kept her hand on the wall to steady herself.
"Now, strip," the first thug said.
Erin took a deep breath. Was any of these guys not a total pervert?
"No," she said, staring the henchman down.
"You'll strip now," the first thug replied. "Unless you want us to do it."
Erin glared at the henchmen. They were both grinning at her like warped teenage boys, their eyes hungrily taking her in entire body. She didn't want them touching her any more than they already had-- they might not be able to stop.
"Fine," she sighed, pushing the spandex off of her shoulders. She shimmied the costume down her body, peeling the tight, sweaty fabric off her arms and torso, and finally stepping out of its leg-holes clumsily. She kicked the blue wad aside, leaving her standing in just a black bra and thong. She crossed her arms and frowned at the men. "There," she said. "Happy?"
"Now take off your bra and panties," the second thug ordered.
Erin's face flushed red with both embarrassment and fury. Her instinct was to yell something-- to call them the sick douchebags that they were-- but she knew there was no point in protesting. She still didn't have the strength to fight back. There was therefore just two horrible choices: obey them, or disobey and feel their grubby, perverted hands.
Erin turned around so that her back faced the men and reached a hand behind her back. She unclipped her bra and tossed it to the floor with as little fanfare as she could muster. As soon as it left her body, the men started to whistle and cheer.
"Hell yeah!" one of them cried out. "Now do the undies... Nice and slow..."
Erin flicked her head around to sneer at them, which only inspired more laughter. It was like each hour in Sunny's captivity exponentially deteriorated her situation. But what could she do? Her priorities now were staying alive and somehow finding a way to prevent Sunny from publicizing her secret identity. Erin supposed she could deal with anything if it meant saving her life and her superheroine career. But this... This was just...
"Don't make us come over there, Blue Lynx!" one of the men growled.
"Ugh!" Erin groaned, laying one arm across her breasts and slipping the thumb of her free hand underneath the waistband of her thong. "You're both disgusting tools!" She bent over, trying her best not to expose her chest, and nudged her panties off of her shaking hips. She pushed them down the length of her thighs, increasing the men's hooting and hollering. Once the thong got past her knees, it dropped to the floor, and as Erin punted the black fabric aside, the men's screams came to an unbelievably irritating climax. She gritted her teeth as she moved her hand to cover her pubic region.
"My God!" a thug said. "What an ass! A super-ass!"
"You've got to kick a lot of ass to get an ass like that," the other replied.
"I still don't think we're getting the best view, though."
"Me neither. An ass is great, but..."
"Turn around!"
Erin heard the instruction and hesitated. She knew that this had been coming, and she knew she didn't have a choice. But none of that knowledge made the ordeal any less degrading.
"Did you hear me, Blue Lynx? I said turn the FUCK around!"
Erin did what she was told. She rotated a patient, deliberate 180 degrees, keeping her hands and arms in their strategic positions. She looked at the men's faces and immediately looked somewhere else-- she couldn't bear to see their horny, ecstatic leers.
"My God," the thug repeated. "Would ya look at that."
"She is... just... perfect," the second one said.
Erin felt like her whole body was turning red. She had become the equivalent of a celebrity centerfold-- an engine for lascivious male desire. She shivered inside their gaze. Did Batgirl ever have to deal with this?
"I still don't think she recognizes us," one of them said.
"No, of course she doesn't," the second replied. "Even after all we've been through."
Erin flashed her eyes in the thugs' direction. Were they the same two that had menaced her that first time back in the cell? She really couldn't tell. They all looked the same, to her.
"Well maybe we'll give her something else to remember us by."
"Yeah. It's shower time, Blue Lynx."
Erin faced them to see that one was now holding a long gray hose. Before she had a chance to think about what this meant, a jet of water blasted out of its tip and struck her in the upper body. The stream was strong enough to knock her off her feet, sending her to the floor butt-first. She tried to get back up, but the water kept hitting her, eventually forcing her to move her hands to her face. She pushed aside the torrent, coughing, until the stream moved down her exposed body and targeted her crotch. The water splashed between Erin's legs, making her whinny, compelling her to move her hands again. But as soon as her hands were in one place, the stream was in other: soaking her breasts, hair, abdomen, face, lap. She was pinned down in the corner of the stall for five minutes, her eyes shut, her mouth gurgling and screaming, the men chuckling maniacally, the water continuing to slam into her bare skin.
And then, suddenly, it stopped.
Erin inhaled and exhaled loudly. She coughed. She slumped forward and fell onto her hands, letting her thoroughly besotted hair drip along the sides of her face. She heard the sound of water running down the drain.
The men continued to snicker. "Feeling refreshed?" one of them asked.
Her clothes lay next to her in waterlogged heaps. Her skin shined beet red from the hose's onslaught. Her makeup was smeared and her confidence was completely shaken. She felt cold, wet, alone, scared, and ashamed.
"Now that you're clean, we gotta get you ready for the big match," one of the men said.
"Yeah," the other said. "The boss wants you looking your absolute best... For your defeat."
"We'll be filming the whole thing."
"So take this. Dry off. Let's go."
Erin looked up. A towel was floating her way. She lifted a hand to catch it, and missed.
On to Chapter Six
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