The New Teen Titans vs. the Italian Stallion Chapter Eleven: The Show Must Go On Evan Andrews 2021
The following story is a work of fan fiction set in the New Teen Titans era in a continuity where Dick Grayson as Robin and Joe Wilson as Jericho overlapped, because screw unitard hero uniforms.
All characters depicted in it belong to and are trademarked and copyrighted by DC Comics and/or its subsidiaries. I am not related to the company and make no claim of ownership over the characters. Suggested casting includes porn stars Vince Rockland as the Italian Stallion and Tony Lattanzi as Maverick. Spotlight, Bobby, is based on Sunspot from Marvel, but only barely. The Martels are of course Jonas brothers, and their new bed slaves are whichever boy from Broke Straight Boys tickles your fancy.
The story depicts males in sexual situations, mostly with other males. If that offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please help keep Nifty going by contributing at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
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The Martel brothers kept their Teen Titan fuck-pets to themselves for several weeks. Youthful stamina moved them to fuck their new sex slaves all around the apartment, even occasionally in the bedrooms. Soon, though, the novelty wore off, and they brought the boys with them to their special by-invitation strip club. Again, at first, the Titans were an exclusive property. People could look, but only the Martels could touch. And touch they did. In their private box, the brothers put the young heroes to lip service, licking this, sucking that. Then the Martels made a stage of their box and had the boys give them lap dances, and sometimes more than that. The crowds ate it up with a spoon. It was debatable if they realized the Martels had the real Teen Titans bitching themselves for the brothers' pleasure, or if the boys sucking the singers' cocks were simply excellent doubles. In any case, the heroes proved so popular with the crowds that they soon were performing in the stage show themselves.
And every step, after the Titans were brought out into the public eye, was closely watched by the Italian Stallion, his second banana Maverick, and the newest apprentice, Spotlight.
Tonight, the Titans were not only in the show they were headlining it.
Force Pheromone (they still hadn't come up with a good team name) had claimed another private box from which they watched the opening card of strippers wiggle around on-stage and work the audience into a slow boil. While that went on, the four Titans were on display in go-go cages, putting on an act in which their shafts were caught in the phallic equivalent of a Chinese finger trap. The dance they improvised (at least Stallion assumed they were improvising) as they tried desperately to escape drew almost as many eyes as the half dozen muscle-pups shaking their booties on the main stage. People didn't know which show they wanted to watch more. Stallion glanced across the room and took note of how the Martels were passing a couple of new suck slaves from one of their cocks to the next, paying next to no attention to the action on any of the stages.
"Look," he told his companions, "They sure got tired of our boys fast."
"Fast?" Maverick said, "Clearly you're not a fan or else you'd know that a Martel "relationship" seldom last for more than a couple months, and usually they're measured in weeks. They kept our boys in their beds exclusively for what, 7 weeks? That's a lot longer than Joey's last hook up."
"I thought the oldest one was engaged," Spotlight said.
"Yeah, and they make a show of wearing those fucking chastity bracelets. Kev Martell's engaged, and I'm the Queen of Spain and Portugal," Maverick obviously disapproved of the Martels as much as Stallion did.
They were all so focused on the Martels that they missed the fact that the Titans had disappeared from their go-go cages. Suddenly the lights dimmed, the second card strippers left the stage, and a new music started playing. Robin, wearing nothing but a pair of sheer white boxer shorts, stepped out from behind the curtain into the harsh spotlight and the cheers of the audience. As he gyrated to center stage, Speedy, just as undressed, followed his raven-haired bro out into the spotlight. Finally Jericho appeared, rounding out the vast. The crowd went wild, but Spotlight said, "Where's the green one?
"Probably riding one of his buddies," Stallion said, "See if you can guess which one. He'll be the biggest horn-dog among them once they start fucking."
"What?" Spotlight was appalled, "They're going straight into the live sex show? No dancing? Where's the artistry? I thought you sold them to performers."
He stared a challenge at Stallion.
"I did, but I never said they were good performers. They're nothing more than teen fangirl magazine fodder, a temporary commodity."
Spotlight hmpfed and turned his attention back to the stage.
Stagehands had put jugs of warm sudsy water within reach of the Titans, and, after strutting and showing off the goods, the boys dipped sponges into the water and proceeded to soap themselves up. What little the boxers had concealed before was now on all but full display, especially as the boys' meat began to stiffen in resolve. Robin now took center stage and turned his back to the slavering hordes to show off his posterior assets. While he swayed his iconic butt to one side and the other, Speedy and Jericho took up their sponges and languidly began to scrub his back. Water ran down the Boy Wonder's muscles, and the lower the sponges went the greater a soaking Robin's shorts took until they clung, all but invisible, to his buttocks, giving an intimate view of his callipygian cleft. The spongers went to their knees and took their duties down Robin's thighs and muscular calves, their faces mere inches from acres and acres of hot Boy Wonder butt. Close enough to kiss.
"What're they waiting for?" Maverick snarked.
"Wait for it," Stallion said.
When Robin turn to face the crowd once more, he was fully erect, tenting his clinging boxers, and his bros had a face-full front row seat to his 9 inches of prowess. After a moment for people to stare in awe, Speedy and Jericho leaned in and shared a kiss over Robin's knob.
The audience, of course, went wild.
"Now you know," Spotlight said.
"Suck him!" some jaded queen halfway down the runway cat-called, and the crowd echoed his sentiments. But it was clear to Team Pheromone that the boys had planned this whole show out beforehand, and there was much more to do before they got down and dirty. Speedy took center stage next, and his bros did him the same service. Finally sweet blond Jericho got suds serviced, and in the end the stage was awash with soapy water and the three Titans were ready to go to the next level.
"Him," Spotlight said, pointing at Robin, "It was all he could do not to tear his shorts off when they were soaping him up, and he was ready to tear the others' open and go to town on their cocks while he was working the stud wash."
Stallion nodded.
"That's what I saw too," he said, "Robin must be fighting the fight of his life in that pretty little head, because we all know that if Changeling had his druthers he'd have been tonsils-deep in hero dick already."
Jericho ran his fingers into his bros' hair and seemingly pulled them up, not into a three-way kiss, but the next best thing. Sheer millimeters separated the boys' lips as they began to rub up against one another. Robin quickly became the center of the frottage-fest. The bros at length pulled apart and began to share the most erotic guy-on-guy bath scene that that stage (and possibly the city) had ever enjoyed. Instead of sponges, they worked at getting one another clean (or maybe it was dirty) by humping one another, by running their chests together, and by the application of talented hands pretty much everywhere hands could reach.
They took this show around the stage and down the runway so that every part of the audience more than got their money's worth. The boy's boxers, now so transparent as to be superfluous, clung wetly to their bodies almost as the super-science fabric of their fetish force uniforms did. Speedy's 9 inches and Jericho's 8 added to the erotic appeal of Robin's 9 when they formed a line and did a synchronized bump and grind, swinging their shafts invitingly at the audience. Robin was, of course, in the middle.
"Take `em off!" the old queen cried.
The boys singled the vocal older man out and made him the focus of a not-so-private, up-close show. When he reached out to get a handful of Jericho's meat, though, the blond mentalist turned his ass on the man and swishayed to the other side of the runway.
The wag looked to Robin who smiled and reminded him, "You can look, but you can't touch. It's the rules."
Then he and Speedy turned their asses on the wag, swayed back and forth in his face for a few seconds before joining their bro.
(The old queen did not pass out, but he swooned and had to be helped back into his chair. He told the story for years thereafter. "I don't know if he was real or just a really good celebrity impersonator, but there I was, within kissing range of the most beautiful Teen Titan cock and ass.")
Making their way back up to the main stage, the boys now moved the show into the second act. The crowd cheered them as Robin pulled Jericho's wet glistening body to his and they ground against each other, hard cock urging hard cock to greater heights of excitement. This time, though, the boys' lips made contact, and the young heroes all but made love on the stage. Speedy waited just a few moments before sidling up behind Robin and, making sure his own soldier was at attention, rubbed his length up and down the Boy Wonder's ass-crack. Robin groaned and thrust back against the redhead, grinding against the red archer's cock with his butt and blond mentalist cock with his pelvis. The boys rubbed and rubbed away, occasionally switching off who was lucky Pierre. Robin didn't know what he enjoyed more: dry- (okay, not so dry) humping the crack of Speedy's ass while Jericho and Speedy rubbed against each other's tight stomachs, or being in the middle of that Teen Titan sandwich.
The crowd, screaming for more, could barely hold themselves back. Security had their hands full, and when the Titans ripped off their boxers, at last revealing raw ass and hard dick, several of the onlookers climbed onto the stage. The bouncers hauled them back, and everybody watched in awe as the naked heroes' humping got more and more intense—and desperate. It was clear the boys couldn't last much longer.
"Shoot it!" the mouthy queen screamed.
And the three super-studs came, screaming out their passion as their untouched cocks erupted. Speedy jizzed Robin's crack while the Boy Wonder and his blond bro spurted white gold up onto their stomachs. Gasping, they hugged for a second and then stepped apart to the audience could see the cum running down their bodies. The whole crowd was ready to charge the stage, but the boys put an end to that by coming down off the stage in order to become the playthings of whoever slid them enough folding money.
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"So what do you think of your star students now?" Stallion asked later that evening.
The kidnappers cum boy-breakers had stayed to watch the Titans' second show. (Maverick had broken down and pheromone seduced one of the other strippers who was now happily choking on his Italian sausage.)
"I hate to say it," Spotlight admitted, "But they did me proud. They got more mileage out of a pair of wet boxers than I could have imagined. And now... well, just look at them."
The finale to the boys' second show was spectacularly intimate. (In that show all four Titans, in their hero personas and super-science uniforms, had staged a mock combat that ended up with increasingly shredded uniforms and some intensive bro-on-bro fucking. The fetish crowd had forced their way to the front row for that, you can be sure.) The uniforms long gone, the hunks of hot naked boy-flesh were now sitting on the edge of the runway, Robin and Changeling on one side, Speedy and Jericho on the other. Using gel masturbators, they worked their shafts to the delight of the audience. The boys had come-hither looks on their faces now, and for a consideration they were more than willing to let clients pay for the right to use the sleeves to give their dicks a few strokes.
Stallion watched, imagining the look of greed on Kev Martel's face as he toted up the filthy lucre he was raking in off this show. (The lights in the brothers' private box were out, but bugs Stallion had placed there earlier let the villain know the Martels were really going to town on their new sluts. Talk about loyalty.) And then, of course, there had been the take from the first show, the meat and greet, and a few private sessions that Stallion figured Kev thought had been more discrete than they in fact had been.
"Boss," Maverick said, "You look concerned. Spotlight did say the boys just put on a good show..."
"No, Spotlight said they put on a great show," the Brazilian corrected, "An excellent show! A remarkable show!"
"Yeah, that too," Maverick said, "And the Martels seem to be happy as fuck. And they've thrown business our way. So, what's the problem?"
"Do you see the guys down there? The ones with their cellphones out?"
"The ones taking selfies with Robin's dick hoping he'll blow in their faces? The money-shot version of ambulance chasers? Yeah. What of `em?"
"Well, I've been at some of the boys' other shows, and I've watched while other customers, lots of other customers, did the same thing-- taking photos and videos of the boys stripping, even selfies with hard Teen Titan cock. Forget that club policy forbids it."
"Club policy always gives way when the cash starts flowing," Spotlight said, "It's the nature of the industry."
"Right. The problem is that I've checked online, and some of those photos have been showing up in social, and some less than social, media. If I've seen those photos, you can bet your bottom dollar that someone else has, too."
"Someone else?" Spotlight asked, confused, but Maverick's face registered instant concern.
"Someone else as in Batman?!" the second banana gasped, "The guy that dangles you from rooftops?"
"We'd be lucky if it were just Batman," Stallion said, "But I have a bad feeling he'll call up some backup."
"Fuck, you mean like Green Arrow?" Maverick said, "Yeah I can see that, but... oh fuck, you don't think Bats would bring Deathstroke in on this too, do you?"
"Deathstroke!" Spotlight gasped. Even he knew that one's reputation, and fucking psychotic would be putting it mildly.
"Yeah," Stallion said, "I'm going to put a flea in the Martels' ears before we leave tonight and hope that they take me seriously. Otherwise, they are going to go down in short order."
"Fuck," Maverick said, "And if they go down, we'll be right behind them. Unless we bug out. Should we be looking into moving the current trainees to another facility?"
"A facility in another city," Spotlight suggested.
Stallion nodded, and the three villains glared at the men and their fucking cellphones. Stupid ball-busting imbeciles just had to ruin a good thing just so they could have a souvenir.