Epilogue: Bat Breeder III: The Cave

They awoke to darkness.

Naked, hot spunk crusty on their cunts, buttocks sore where the **** had been injected, pussies ached from the incessant sex. Beryl Hutchinson, alias Knight, and Cathy Kane, the Batwoman, awoke slowly and, by silent agreement, began to explore.

Natural stone. No light at all. Complete darkness, the kind your eyes will never adjust to. As they crawled about, their hearing and sense of smell sharpened...and they realized they were not alone. There were figures that breathed in the dark. Warily, Knight and Batwoman stood back to back, ready to fight.

TAP tap TAP tap TAP TAP tap...

Morse code. Batgirl listened intently, and then stomped her foot in reply.

Tap tap. Pause. Tap TAP TAP TAP. Pause. TAP tap tap tap...

It was slow. Tedious. But the introductions came one by one, and Knight sighed in relief.

It was Black Bat—Cassandra Cain—and Stephanie Brown, who was sometimes Robin and sometimes Batgirl, and Helena Bertinelli, the Huntress. Almost all of the women of the Bat-family, minus Barbara Gordon, the original Batgirl...

...and an icy pit seemed to fill Knight's stomach as she realized what that meant.

Batgirl had betrayed them all.

The five women found one another, clasped hands. They dared not speak, for fear that Batgirl, or whomever had brainwashed her, had bugged the room. Their stories were told by signs, lip-reading, tapping out in Morse code. Eerie, silent languages.

Cassandra guided them around the limits of their prison. Beryl felt her hand in her own, small and cold and with more scars than anyone should have at the tender age of nineteen. There were toilets set up in one corner of the cave...spigots for liquid food and water. The temperature was not unpleasant, despite their nakedness, and the women all agreed that the temperature must be controlled.

Higher up than any of them could climb they had mapped out vents, and what had to be the base of an elevator.

<<They pump a narcotic gas in here, when they add someone new.>> Stephanie signed. <<Or when they want someone to visit and check up on us. The food and water might be **** too...it's hard to tell. We try to keep each other engaged. I've been here the longest, as you can tell.>>

Beryl and Kathy didn't know what she meant...and then the Batgirl grabbed their hands and guided them to her naked stomach.

Where should have been the firm abs of one of Gotham's defenders, there was a definite swell. Hard to the touch.

<<We're all pregnant.>> Stephanie said. <<Probably...you are too.>>

"Why?" Beryl said, her voice loud in her own ears. It shocked her, now that she had instinctively broken the silence...and she learned why they didn't even whisper.

A pink light burned on overhead, so bright in the darkness that all five of the women shrank from it. A monitor, at least thirty feet off the floor. Cassandra immediately began to memorize the layout of their prison, but the rest of them were shocked by who was on the monitor.

It was Barbara Gordon, in a kind of dentist's chair. IVs were hooked into the naked Batgirl's arms. Her belly bulged, taut and firm, with a dark line that grew up from her crotch to her navel. At least five months pregnant...and she was seated on a pink dildo, her cunt stretched out, hips unable to stop rocking back and forth, arms and legs withered as though she hadn't worked out in months. There was something maniacal about her grin, the too-wide eyes were dilated...it was like Joker venom, but something else, something different.

"H-h-hello...everyone..." Barbara said breathily. "A-a-all my little bre-e-eders...I'm so glad to see you all here...together..."

She giggled. The assembled Batwomen shook in horror at what had become of their friend...and at what might happen to them.

"S-sorry...they keep...adjusting my mix. C-c-can't have me...f-fight the inevitable c-can I?" She stumbled over some of the words. "The **** a-a-and the lights and the c-cock can keep me s-so distracted...I-I-I had to argue th-that it was be-better this way. For you. All of you."

Barbara giggled again. Her chair slid back, mechanically, and the women saw that she was strapped to it. As much a prisoner as any of them.

"It-it-it's just...temporary," the redhead gave a wan smile, and they saw the dark bags under her eyes, the waxy pallor of her skin. She looked as though she hadn't seen the sun for five or six months. "S-see?"

The camera panned left...and the women did see. Five other chairs, just like those that Barbara was strapped to. Three were under construction.

"P-perfect for b-birthing and br-breeding," Barbara said. "The-they tell me I never...I never have to leave. Th-that as soon as the b-baby is born, th-they'll knock me up again and...and I'll just...keep...getting knocked up...until I can't anymore."

The redhead's eyes twitched. Every one of the women picked up on the little signal. A rapid staccato message.

<<CROATOAN>>

"Y-you'll all...join me...soon." A pink tear leaked out of Barbara's left eye...and then the monitor went blank, and they were in darkness once again. "One by one...then we'll all be together..."

None of the five pregnant Batwomen knew what Barbara's message had meant...or what it had cost them. Yet it was clear, very clear, that they were in a bad spot. Possibly the worst spot in their entire lives.

Naked. Knocked up. In the dark...and Barbara Gordon's final warning.

They were coming for them.

Silently, the Batwomen began to plan. They would not be taken without a fight.