West Coast Jason, East Coast Dick

I spent the next two months laying low in the city of Richmond, a suburb of Jump City in California.

It definitely bugged me to be on the other side of the country from the majority of my super harem, but I'd agreed to the plan for a reason. It made sense. The Birds of Prey, Green Arrow, Nightwing… they were all going about their business just as they had been before they'd briefly encountered one Jason Hall. They fought crime, performed their day jobs, socialized with their fellow super people, and did all the things that were expected of them by anyone who cared.

If their sex lives were radically altered and they all made time to manage my various cabals of secret sex-slaves and sleeper agents, they made sure no one caught on. This whole process was made infinitely simpler and more secure due to Batgirl's expert network and hacking skills as well as Hawkgirl's Thanagarian computer power.

I'd finally landed on the Titans as my next potential expansion.

Mostly because Starfire and Raven were extremely attractive in quite diametrically opposed ways and the thought of acquiring both a hot alien and a sexy magic user lit my very blood on fire with avarice. Almost all my current superhero slaves were simply peak-human badasses rather than meta. But also because they seemed a bit more isolated than most. At least I couldn't recall seeing them associate with the Justice League or serving on the Watchtower as a group anyway.

My team had confirmed this, though not everyone approved. Barbara, Dick, and Dinah wanted me to focus on singleton crime fighters or even villains. Helena was supportive, mostly I think, because she wanted to set herself apart from her fellow harem-mates and I got the feeling she didn't know much or care about the Titans. Oliver was blase about it but the deciding factor had been Shay. Probably something to do with that conqueror mind-set I'd given her or some weird thing she had going on with Babs, but once I'd snapped a bit at the redhead after her seventh well-reasoned and expertly argued point against going after the Titans, the “boss” had put her foot down.

If their lord and master wanted the Titans, he was getting the Titans. Barbara's points were noted but the decision was made. It was now Batgirl's responsibility to ensure that all those potential fail states when she'd been playing devil's advocate were accounted for.

To her credit, Barbara had then set about doing her best to support Plan: Subjugate Titans without reservation. She'd yet to hack into the Titans Tower, weary of the resident superhero Cyborg's own talents and unfair advantages in that arena but she'd managed some success with some of the Titans' cells as well as their various online accounts, obtaining a wealth of useful intel on their daily routines and interpersonal interactions.

Their current team consisted of Starfire and Raven, of course. But also Cyborg, Beast Boy, Robin, Wonder Girl, and Miss. Martian. Contemplating the prospects of taking on an entire of superheroes had me on edge, even if the plan would necessarily rely on snatching one or two with my powers alone. The fact that Dick had happily supplied me with their civilian identities making this task infinitely easier helped to calm my nerves.

That I was also currently getting a slow and sensual blowjob from Rosemarie, the college-aged girl from the apartment next door, also helped. She, her parents, her younger brother and the vast majority of the apartment building had all been turned into Club Members. The Club was yet another flavor of sleeper-slaves whose obstensible reason for existing should some do-gooder get wise was your average run of the mill taboo debauchery rather than serving as an insurance policy and pool of zealous brain-washed minions for my budding villainy.

Rosemarie's brown-haired head bobbed up and down rhythmically as she sucked my cock. My hands ran through her long hair. She moaned softly, moaning into my cock, making my balls twitch. She was laid out on the bed between my spread legs, her own legs kicking up in the air languidly, her lithe body clad in a lacey pink lingerie set consisting of matching panties, bra, and garters. The set looked brand new. I had little doubt her mother had rushed her out to the nearest Victoria's Secret within hours of me implanting The Club subliminals in their perfectly pliable little minds.

As far as they were concerned, I was an Executive in The Club. Like all of the various organizations of mind-controlled pawns I'd set up with his post-hypnotic commands, an absolutely strict hierarchy existed within The Club. Every member was obliged to obey the rules happily and they would always treat higher-level club members with respect and obey their every command. There were various levels of command from Pawns, Apprentices, Journeymen, Supervisors, and Managers; each one having responsibilities as well as increasingly greater privileges. Rosemarie was a Pawn, her parents mere Apprentices. What that meant was she would obey and serve them sexually in whatever way they desired, but it also meant that all three might as well have been mere ants before my own august presence

One of Oliver's Queen Industries flunkies had acquired this apartment for my use. Mostly I'd been laying low and playing the good boy as the plan decreed. For that first week I'd limited myself to only having sex with Shayera and given the caliber of buxom well-muscled woman that she was, that was well more than enough to tide me over. Of course, she'd also been the one to urge me to use my mesmeric gaze on every person who lived in my immediate vicinity to 'secure my base of operations' as she put it. Soon enough, I had a number of decently attractive women from a wide range of ages, backgrounds, and body types to sate my lusts; even if they all paled in comparison to my super-heroine beauties. Their male significant others and family members were similarly indoctrinated by my awesome eyes. Happy to see their loved ones serve as my willing sex slaves, they spent several hours each week training to be Hawkgirl's platoon of human Jannisaries. A reward for going above and beyond in my service was naturally a night-time visit from me and being able to be present and rub one out as I banged their wife, girlfriend, daughter, or just some chick they liked.

As Rosemarie lifted up, her small pert tits dangling delightfully as she tugged rapidly on my shaft, her wet and softly pink lips pursed and kissing my cock-head, my attention was drawn to the side of the bed as my phone buzzed. Groaning theatrically as a reward for Rosemarie's fine efforts, I reached over and picked up the phone. The Caller ID said Babs and the pic that filled the cell's screen was of a topless Batgirl with an appealing little smile wearing just her mask, great big milky white boobs filling the space prominently:

Sex with Dick?

I snorted with amusement even as I looked down into Rosemarie's honeybrown eyes as she sucked my cock.

I did so enjoy controlling the sex lives of my peons. With Barbara's Dominatum App, each and every brainwashed couple was happy to let me oversee their intimacy entirely. A short text, ‘oral only 2nite’ or ‘try anal’ and that is just what they will do. And my superhero couples were no exception. The fact that they remained sexually intimate was in service of their cover stories, lending authenticity to their interactions and hopefully stymieing any odd truth spells and effects.

I smirked and texted back:

Ruined orgasm for the prick. Have him record it.

Her response was near instant: Hot. Followed after two seconds: Dic Pic?

My smirk widened slightly as I replied: Later.

She sent back a smiling face with its tongue sticking out and a cartoon dog furiously wagging its tail.

Dick Grayson, the independent hero otherwise known as Nightwing, parked his motorcycle in an alley several buildings over from the small Chinese food market that Barbara's expert analysis and surveillance network had led him to.

He slipped through the shadows, slowly moving towards the still brightly lit storefront in this run-down neighborhood. Sure enough there were a few Neon Dragons inside hassling the store owner. Typical triad protection racket. He didn’t hesitate as he slipped inside, judging the general threat level of these two-bit thugs as somewhere around takes karate lessons from a strip-mall dojo and practices punches on not respectful enough prostitutes, casually pausing and cracking his neck as the nearest would-be gangster spun to snarl at him, only to abruptly freeze his eyes widening as he recognized Bludhaven’s dark guardian.

"Hello, gentlemen," Nightwing greeted, flashing the three men a friendly smile as he slipped his batons into his hands, "I hope we are all having a pleasant evening."

The wizened shop owner looked delighted to see him, his wouldbe racketeers somewhat less so.

The lead thug, a man with a shaved head and a stupid pair of brightly colored shutter glasses, looked at Nightwing and swallowed hard, before gathering his courage and lurching forward with a knife in his hand, ready to slash it across Nightwing's throat. Dick caught the guy's wrist before he made contact with his jugular, smashing the arm aside with his baton before releasing it as he effortlessly snatched the limb and twisted him violently around, jerking his arm behind his back until the thug was **** to drop his weapon and submit himself to Nightwing's control.

"You have ten seconds to put your weapons down and get out of here before I put all of you in the hospital for a month, feeding tubes and a long painful road to recovery, the whole nine yards," Nightwing threatened. He turned his head to the side to face one of the thugs standing at the door, who was visibly shaking. "Mr. Takahashi here already has ‘protection’, free of charge thanks to the Bat Family.”

He felt vaguely ridiculous referring to it that way and it galled him a bit to trade on that name. Bruce's unsound belief that he was some sort of feudal Lord with ultimate jurisdiction over Gotham's underworld was a disturbing expression of the man’s pride that he utterly refused to acknowledge but there was no denying the efficacy of that reputation.

Case in point:

The thugs dropped their knives and chains and fled the store, leaving behind their restrained colleague without a thought.

One second passed as they disappeared and Nightwing let the Dragon go. The twenty-something gang-banger stumbled away from Dick, gasping for breath as he made a play at machismo, “This isn’t fucking over, baby bird!”

Dick ruthlessly suppressed the urge to lash out as the idiot managed to randomly touch a nerve with that taunt, the fact that he stumbled through the swinging door into the night as he did so helping.

"Thank you! Thank you, sir!" exclaimed the shop-owner and Nightwing flicked one of his cards onto the counter, blue bird on black prominent across its surface.

“Yea, don’t mention it, shūshu.” replied Dick evenly as he bent to pick up his discarded baton, making use of the Chinese honorific for honored uncle with ease.

The man picked up the card and studied it closely before bowing low, “Thank you for saving my shop, sir! Your assistance is greatly appreciated!”

Dick had little doubt that card would soon be taped up in the front window and the number committed to memory, declaring openly that the Nightwing was watching and would deliver swift retribution to any criminal who attempted to sink his claws into Mr. Takahashi’s Fine Pan-Asian Market. Nightwing merely bowed deeply in response before slipping back out of the establishment, waiting protectively as the old man carefully locked the door.

The rest of the night’s patrol was busy. He went straight to the suspected **** and weapons cache that Babs had somehow divined through her apparently god-tier tech and inquiry skills. Another setback for the Neon Dragons which was the theme for tonight’s patrol. They only had two powered gangsters, a metahuman with self-cloning teleport powers and a super-scientist with an emphasis on esoteric bombs, which meant he went through their foot soldiers like an Nth metal blade through butter.

In short, he was pretty much unstoppable versus these sad-sacks and his master’s girl had already identified the locations of the two Neon Dragon heavy-hitters. Lee was dead to the world in a **** haze within their headquarters while Boazha was unfortunately in Metropolis getting resupplied by one of Lexcorp’s shadier subsidiaries.

He interrupted a mugging and escorted a slightly **** couple to the safety of a cabbie that could be trusted before he got the call from Barbara that there was an emergency situation taking place in Gotham.

Arkham.

“I’m ready to go, just give me the details.” He spoke into his coms, his revving cycle between his legs.

“No.” Batgirl’s voice was firm and final, “Batman is already on it. There is some mutagenic agent involved. Joker and Harley are weird animal monster hybrids but Bruce already has back-up. Mutant Ninja Turtles, of all things.”

“So?! Seems like things could get out of hand any second. Back-up he can actually trust would be invaluable, especially in a situation involving **** animal transformations. We know how they got turned into hybrid monsters?” he kept talking even as he gripped the handles of his bike, already roaring onto the streets on his way out of Bloodhaven.

“No Dick. Do not engage. Bruce only suffers your presence in his city because we’re not rubbing his nose in it.”

“It’s not HIS city.”, ground out Dick between clenched teeth as he rocketed through dingy streets,”There’s eight million goddamned people in that decrepit hellhole and not a one of them consented to his being their designated lord and nanny.”

“That may be but-” Babs cut off as Shayera’s voice overrode their comms, “Nightwing, obey your instructions. Oracle is in charge of you when on patrol. You know this.”

He winced at the stark admonishment. The boss’s tone was unyielding and he instantly breaked, coming to a full stop outside of a boarded up barber shop. He could do nothing but obey his boss but he couldn’t help but let some of his angst release as he pleasantly used the title Hawkgirl had bequeathed to his lover, “Oracle, what are my instructions?”

Dick could hear the sigh in her words, “Just come home.”

He once again headed out of Bloodhaven, this time slinking into Gotham twenty minutes later and making his way to Barbara’s apartment