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Damian cried from the medical cot he was strapped to in the cave. He was still begging for safety from a terror none of them could see. “Mama! Help!”
As far as Jason could tell, the kid had gotten a faceful of fear toxin and ran out of antidotes. Thankfully, the creator of the shit was already long gone from the warehouse they were clearing out, but the toxin didn’t tend to care much about the “logic” behind people’s fear. Excess adrenaline did nothing to help, but people scared themselves into cardiac arrest without any trigger or dangerous situation constantly; it was one of the reasons that made the chemical so deadly. People do bad things when they’re desperate, add that to a risk of death or other injury, and whatever caused the toxin to activate in the first place and it was a bad combo.
Jason flinched at the desperate pleas, but kept still. He and Damian agreed a long time ago, when the little kid first showed up in Gotham, that this was for the best. It kept them safe, no one made any assumptions or judgments. Bruce got a chance to raise his kid without outside influence. Damian didn’t need to worry about jealousy from his biological parent, or be prodded for questions about Jason, or god forbid be blamed for shit Jason did himself. No one needed to know.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t holding back tears at the sight of his baby in pain. Damian wasn’t biologically his, but that didn’t matter in the slightest. That kid had been his since he was first put in his arms. When everything hurt, nothing made sense, the world was too much, his baby was there.
Small and innocent hands clutching his blood soaked fingers like he was something more than the monster he felt. Jason’s mind would settle for once, quiet from the constant cries of his own inner child screaming for comfort. He couldn’t protect that kid, couldn’t save himself, but he’d be damned if he let that happen to his.
Not that he was very successful at that.
“Mama!” Damian begged again, thrashing against the medical restraints. Jason could see the angry red marks already forming from the friction. The bands were soft, designed to keep the patient safe rather than trapped, but he doubted they were doing much to relieve the kid’s anxious mind.
Dick perked up, voice almost desperate to find a way to help. “You want Talia? You want us to call her?” He reached for his phone, but Damian shook his head and cried harder. No surprise there, Talia being too busy to handle him was half the reason he ended up with Jason in the first place. Damian was flushed with sweat and Jason could practically feel just how hot the kid’s skin had gotten from across the cave.
Damian’s sobs grew louder and his heart rate continued to rise higher, the monitor beside him steadily and steadily beeping faster and faster at an alarming rate.
“Antidote status?” Bruce barked out, staring at his son in a cold fear.
“I’m working on it!” Tim snapped back, desperately running simulations. “It’s a completely different formula than normal, it’s targeting not just his fear and adrenaline, but also directly attacking his cardiovascular system.”
“Fuck,” Dick hissed.
None of them needed to spell out what that meant. The fear toxin was attacking his heart, they weren’t just risking an adrenaline crash or overdose, they were talking possible heart attacks, cardiovascular failure, much much faster than fear toxin should. If they didn’t find a solution soon, the kid would be joining the dead robins club.
“Mama?” Jason squeezed his eyes tight at the almost resigned cry. He couldn’t do it. This would change everything. Everyone would know. But his baby would die, and Jason would never, never risk losing him if he had anything to say about it.
He shoved past Bruce, ignoring the sudden intense stare at his back, and pushed Dick to the side. He took a deep breath and stroked the sweat soaked mangled hair of his baby.
“Mama’s here, little love.”
The sobs and machine beeping stuttered, the cacophony coming to a sudden stop. The silence was almost more terrifying than the chaos.
“Mama?” Damian whispered again, this time eyes opening and glancing around frantically. They were out of focus and hazy, but Jason gently cupped his cheeks in his hands and guided his head to face him.
“I’m here, baby. Mama’s got you,” He promised and nearly cried at the instant relief on his kid’s face. He unlocked the restrains, ignoring the cut-off protests from the others, and pulled him into his lap.
Damian’s heart rate slowed, dropping from the far too high pace to something still frightened but less dangerous.
“Monsters, mama,” Damian babbled, and Jason cooed. He wiped the tears and snot from his baby’s face with a tissue from the box on the stand beside the cot.
“They’re not real, baby. Mama’s got you, it’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
It was true.
No matter how much Jason wanted to hide, to deflect, run from the intense stares and curious eyes in the cave, he wouldn’t. He’d stay there until his kid was okay. He’d explain for him, would face the music himself to keep his baby safe.
Slowly, Damian’s adrenaline dropped. The fear toxin was still in his system, but it was low enough that he just whimpered and cuddled up tighter against Jason. When the computer beeped with a complete analysis and an antidote was injected into his arm, Damian closed his eyes and fell asleep.
The cave was blissfully silent for a few minutes. Everyone waited with baited breath for someone to break the silence and ask what was on their minds, but no one was willing to disturb the peace.
“Jason,” Bruce grunted, and of course it would be him. Who else was that impatient? Couldn’t even give them a moment.
“What?” Jason didn’t bother to make eye contact, instead keeping a soft watch over Damian.
“Why does he call you, ma-“ Bruce stuttered over the title slightly, and Jason turned with a raised brow. “Mama?”
The man’s face was closed off. Not cold, but something else underneath the forced neutral expression. Jason practically had a degree in deciphering Batman, but he didn’t recognize this look, at least not on Bruce’s face. It made his skin prickle, though that wasn’t uncommon with half of Bruce’s expressions.
Jason sighed. “None of you will leave it alone, so fuck it.”
He rocked Damian in his arms ever so slightly, the movement keeping him asleep but also repetitive and soothing for Jason. He was useful like this. He was good.
“Talia put me in charge of watching Damian after the pit,” Jason explained. “I was a mess of trauma, pain, and desperate to get out of there, to run from the league and fix what you,” he turned to Bruce, “couldn’t.”
Bruce met his gaze with that same odd expression, for once not even grimacing at the thought of Jason’s idea of fixing his problems.
“But Damian helped. Watching him, it reminded me that there was still something in me that wasn’t dead. I could keep him safe and keep him happy. Seeing him smile was like feeling my heart come back to life.” He confessed.
“But why mama?” Tim asked.
“Talia again,” Jason huffed. “Not trying to misgender me, she’s not that kind of an ass, but Damian knew mother meant comfort. He hadn’t met his dad yet. All he had before me was his mom, so when she called me that it made sense to him that I was the same. I would protect him. He didn’t need to fear me.”
“I was safe, so I was a mom,” He almost whispered the words, feeling more like a confession than anything. “I was his mama. Still am.”
“Why hide it then?” Dick asked, shaking his head. “You’ve both been back for ages. He acts like he hates you, you call him a brat. I just-“ he cut himself off.
Jason continued to stare at Bruce. “I know how you view me. The kid already had an uphill climb without associating him with me. Besides, he needed more people in his corner. Needed to learn to reach for help he doesn’t think will be there.”
Dick smiled at that. “He’s stubborn, that’s for sure.”
“Genetics?” Tim teased, but he was facing Jason not Bruce when he said it.
“Oh fuck off,” Jason rolled his eyes. “Blood doesn’t mean a thing, he’s my damn kid if I say so.”
“Now where have I heard that argument before?” Dick muttered with a grin and sheepishly raised his hands up when Jason glared. “Just saying.”
“The young master’s heart has stabilized," Alfred suddenly popped up beside the medical cot. “His blood panels are clean. I imagine he now needs rest, much like the rest of you.”
With the passive aggressive treatment plan in place, the bats and birds made their way upstairs. Bruce stirred tea, chamomile it smelled like, in the kitchen while Dick and Tim hobbled up the stairs like sleep deprived zombies. Jason was reluctant to let his baby sleep by himself after all that, but explaining that they all knew would go better if he was well-rested and didn’t immediately panic upon waking up. Not to mention that he’d sleep pretty well tonight. Fear toxin kicked like a bitch, but it did guarantee a pretty deep sleep.
“Master Jason,” Alfred called, before he could slip out through the front door. “I have set a room for you for the night, I believe Master Damian would improve upon seeing you tomorrow morning.”
And there was no arguing with that.
So Jason accepted the tea offered to him with only a half-hearted glare at Bruce, chugged it in a few gulps, walked to the thankfully not memorialized room of his dead fifteen-year-old self, and promptly conked out on the bed.
He woke up to a weird feeling in his arms and legs. They were almost numb, but too heavy at the same time. He couldn’t lift his eyelids very well, and his heart refused to pick up even though his mind was racing.
He was drugged.
The lower heartrate was a blessing in disguise, no adrenaline rush, but his captor wouldn’t realize he was awake for a moment. Moving his eyes as best he could, revealed he was still in the room he fell asleep in. Except there was a dark shadow in the corner that seemed to be staring back at him. Jason’s breath caught as Bruce stepped towards the bed.
“Br’ce?” Jason slurred, tongue heavy but he forced the sound out. Admittedly, he was more than a little confused. He hadn’t done anything except explain how Damian saw him. Was this some sort of weird parental-shovel talk? Don’t be a bad dad to the kid or I’ll hurt you? Bruce was more in need of that than Jason, in his own opinion.
Bruce shushed him. He reached out a hand and stroked Jason’s face, in a weirdly similar way to what Jason did to Damian earlier in the cave. His touch was soft, not something Jason had from him in a very long time. He melted into it, hating the fact that he did. God, he was like a kicked dog, way too easy for the smallest bit of kindness.
“There you go, baby,” Bruce praised him. For what? Jason wasn’t sure. It didn’t feel like he did anything, but the soft smile on the man’s face implied he disagreed. Bruce moved his other hand to trace shapeless patterns down Jason’s arm. The limb was still imobile and the nerves only registered the sensation a moment after it happened.
“Now,” Bruce began and the hands dipped to tug at the hem of Jason’s shirt. He had just thrown on what was on the bed before he fell asleep, so it wasn’t anything fancy. His breath caught when Bruce started to pull it up.
“Br’ce?” Jason asked again, this time his words less slurred and more panicked. His heart still refused to pick up, but the forced drowsiness of the drug was wearing off.
The man just hummed as he pulled the shirt off of Jason and quickly followed with his own.
“No, stop,” Jason protested, but despite the clarity seeping back into him at a snail’s pace, his body stayed frozen in place. He could only watch as Bruce stripped himself down to his boxers and returned to Jason’s clothes.
“No, no no please!” Jason begged, but Bruce continued in his task. He pulled down his sweatpants and neatly folded them beside the bed. That made Jason choke on his spit. The almost gentle way he removed his clothes and stacked them to the side had his stomach begin to bubble unhappily.
He knew what was coming, but it still felt impossible. There had to be another explanation. There was something he missed. Bruce was a lot of things. He had long stopped being safe for Jason in many ways. But this was never supposed to be one of them.
“Don’t,” Jason pleaded. “Don’t you fucking dare, I’ll kill you!”
But Bruce stayed quiet, not flinching the slightest at the threat, as his hands trailed lower down Jason’s body. There was only one layer left between them, and all too soon they were discarded off the bed. The only noises in the room were Jason’s own begs and the sound of fingers lightly tracing against something very wrong and far too wet.
“Nooo,” Jason whined at the soft strokes at his folds. His stomach clenched, heart attempted to pound but failed with the drugs running through him. He tried to lock his legs together but they couldn’t obey his commands, only flopping slightly to the side where Bruce easily pushed them open.
Jason was far too reactive already. Distantly he wondered if it was something in whatever Bruce gave him that had him acting like this, or if it just had been too long since he got any action. Any other reason was nauseating and he refused to acknowledge it.
It felt good and awful and sickening and it hurt his head to feel the already building pleasure. The man he once called dad was stroking his clit, pulling back the hood and rubbing the sensitive nerve bundle until Jason squealed, the noise unwillingly spilling from his too loose lips.
“Why?” He asked, desperate for something to explain this. Something to make this awful nightmare make sense. Something to excuse what was happening. Something to explain why his dad was going to rape him.
“You need it, baby,” Bruce finally spoke up. It was a low tone, almost growled. Spoken in the same self-assured way Batman did. He found a problem and knew the solution. Jason was all too familiar with being the problem.
Jason shook his head. “No, no I don’t. I don’t want it.”
Bruce shushed him and gently pushed a finger against his slit. His cunt pulsed at the near intrusion and suddenly there was an awful pressure against his cunt despite the slick already dripping from him and the way Bruce soaked his finger before. The force continued and pressed into his empty cunt that protested the very large finger. He squeezed around it, trying to force out the intrusion, but Bruce just slid in deeper.
“I’ll help you baby,” Bruce promised, and Jason’s tears finally fell.
He helplessly thrashed against the hold, muscles refusing to work, limbs lying heavy and utterly useful against the constant growing pressure and feeling of being far too full. All he could do was writhe at the sensation, unable to get away from the feeling.
Bruce slipped in a second finger and the awful intense ache started again before the last had disappeared all the way. Jason sobbed and cried out for a man long dead in a desperate plea for a rescue that could and would never come.
“Dad!”
A man who never knew what was going on in his own home. A man that Jason wasn’t even sure would have cared. He had to believe that he would. That they would. That his mom didn’t realize what was happening to him, that she was too out of it to protest, too high to remember. He wasn’t just payment, an easy way out of debt, he was loved, right?
He wanted someone. Needed someone. He needed to be okay. Needed someone to scoop him up and say nothing was happening. It was all just a nightmare, a lie, a horrible dream he made up in his jammies. He needed to feel safe in a way he hadn’t felt since the apartment door creaked open years and years ago. Though it didn’t feel so far away now with an awful heat inside of him again.
“Dad!” He sobbed out, and unfortunately the fingers inside him picked up the pace at the sound. Nausea bubbling up in his still churning stomach and threatening to spill over with each thrust shoving him further against the mattress. He choked on his bile and tears, drool spilling out his mouth.
Bruce let out a deep groan while he was still rocking his too thick fingers into Jason’s cunt. “That’s right, baby. Dad’s got you.”
The title made his stomach gurgle in protest worse than before. No, no no nonononono. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to hear that. Not right now, not like this, not from him.
“Dad knows what you need, baby,” Bruce groaned, voice softening and becoming sweeter at the awful reassurance. The tone was almost sing-songy like something you’d hum to a child. It made Jason’s head feel funny despite the disgusting words. “He’s gonna fill up that pretty little pussy of yours until your stomach looks ready to pop.”
Jason whined.
“Yeah? You like that idea, baby? Want me to make you a mommy? Want to carry your own brothers and sisters in that cute and tiny cunt of yours?”
Oh god. No, no he didn’t want that. But his drugged up brain could so easily picture it. Bruce was so strong, too smart, if he wanted to keep Jason, wanted to keep him full, he could. He’d be stuck pregnant with kids rolling around in his tummy, if that’s what Bruce wanted. Belly round, chest heavy, and feet swollen as often as Bruce decided he liked. How many would he fill him with? How big would his belly swell with them?
Jason’s pussy clenched tight around the too big fingers as they scissored apart his insides. He couldn’t put up any fight, not like this. Brain too hazy to protest beyond whines and tears. He just shook helplessly back and forth on the mattress. Limbs still too heavy from the drug to do anything beyond a pathetic attempt at thrashing from side to side. “No, please, I don’t want, no-”
“No?” Bruce cooed, slowing down the thrusts. For a second Jason almost believed he’d stop. But he didn’t pull out. The intrusive fingers stayed buried in him, circling something that left him jolting with small shocks every time Bruce brushed it. “You don’t want that?”
Jason shook his head frantically. He didn’t want that. He didn’t.
“Well I think your pussy does, baby. Which one of you is lying, huh? Should we ask her?”
Bruce used the hand that wasn’t knuckles deep in his son’s cunt to shove Jason’s hips still against the bed. He pulled his fingers out, making an awful squelch, slowly spreading them to show the thick trail of slick already covering them. It dripped down his hand in an obscene show and Bruce made a show of twirling the sopping wet digits around his tongue. He let out a low groan at the taste.
“Your pussy knows what she needs, baby,” Bruce patted his flank with a smile, like his hand wasn’t sticky with his own saliva and Jason’s slick. “She knows you need filling.”
His right hand stayed in place, rubbing nonsense patterns into the soft skin. But his left hand crept back up to play with Jason’s folds. The digits dipped down to scoop up his arousal, pulling back to spread it against his clit and laughing at his whines.
“You’re so wet for me, baby! Do you want to be a mommy that bad? I knew you were lying.”
Jason shook his head desperately. His tears had slowed down, but now picked back up at the awful words coming from his da- from Bruce’s mouth.
“Not lyin’, don’t wanna, not mommy-” His words slurred and his voice rose higher as his distress grew. His mind flashing back to a different set of fingers pushing into him. A hot mouth and sweaty palms, shoving him against the same mattress his mom laid out on, eyes fogged over and pupils small. Her body bounced in time with theirs, gaze never focusing on what was happening beside her no matter how loud Jason sobbed. He was so small and the hands were so big. Just one finger practically the size of his pussy, but they stuffed more in anyway.
The world was growing fuzzy as Jason struggled to see past the memories twisting in time with his present horror. Everything was too much. His head hurt, his eyelids felt too heavy from the weight of his tears, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish from the overwhelming sensations.
“Dad,” he cried out in vain.
“Gonna be such a good mommy, baby,” Bruce smiled. He winked at Jason like he was telling a joke, “My beautiful son, pregnant with his own siblings.”
Jason sobbed harder. Why? Was all he could think. His brain was all funny, his tummy too, and the large fingers in him made him feel all weird in that one spot. It felt like they’d push his organs up into him, felt like they’d permanently rearrange him.
The fingers rubbed harder at the one odd spot that had Jason’s legs twitching when they passed it. The constant pressure was building a new feeling in his tummy. It was hot and weird and he-
“Dad, I’m gonna pee!” Jason shrieked.
But Bruce dug his fingers harder against the spot and laughed at his full body shudders.
“That’s not pee, baby. Dad’s making your pussy feel good.”
He rolled his wrist and moved in time with Jason’s flailings. The other hand trailed from his hip bone to lightly stroke at his clit, and he was gone.
“Dad!” He yelled, and the orgasm rushed through him. It was electric and hot and kept on going no matter how much Jason tried to squirm away. The hands on and in him were just too big. It felt like his brain was dripping out of his pussy with every rub.
“See, didn’t that feel good?” Bruce teased, still scissoring his fingers throughout Jason’s aftershocks.
“N-nnh,” Jason tried, but he couldn’t make any words, just soft and high-pitched sounds. Bruce cooed at the attempt and leant forward to kiss him, Jason’s lips still wet with his cries. He squealed as the weight forced the fingers inside his pussy to push deeper than before.
“Silly, baby,” Bruce smiled. It was soft and sweet, but it made Jason cry harder though he couldn’t figure out why. “What’s wrong, love? Is your pussy hungry again already?”
Jason babbled helplessly, thick heavy tears nearly choking him. Everything was too much. His body ached in a place that didn’t feel right, and he wanted Bruce to stop. He wanted this game to be over. He didn’t want to be a mommy, he was too young for that! Why wasn’t his dad listening?
“Don’t worry. We’ll fill her up,” Bruce promised and laughed at the whine he got in response. Those sticky fingers finally pulled out and instead held his folds open in an uncomfortable stretch while he crawled on top of him. His other hand spread Jason’s legs further apart on the bed til he was between them, and he lifted up his butt til his hips were ever so slightly in the air. When he let go, they fell back down on the mattress.
“Next time, I’ll bring some restraints for these legs of yours. With the way they kick, I’d think you didn’t want this,” Bruce thought out loud. He pushed forward to whisper in Jason’s ear, “It’s okay. Dad knows best.”
Jason’s mouth fell open as something much thicker than those two fingers entered him. He shrieked and tried to pull away, but with the drug still running through him and the weird heaviness in his head, Bruce was just too strong.
“Too b’g,” Jason cried, he pushed and shoved with all his might but his wrists were grabbed and kissed sweetly like he wasn’t trying to crawl away from his nightmare.
“It’s good practice for when you’re a mommy,” Bruce told him, pinning the weak arms above his head and continuing to thrust forward. His cock was too big. The fingers were hardly enough stretch for this, and though he wasn’t tearing, it hurt. His insides were still too sensitive and his pussy clenched around the intrusion, pulsing and throbbing around Bruce’s dick. “A baby will be much bigger than this.”
The heavy and hot slide of his dick finally hit something in him that lurched Jason forward. He couldn’t go far with his hands caught above his head, so instead the force folded him nearly in half causing the angle to shift, and the cock pressed against that weird spot in him, and his head went all funny, and-
“Dad!” Jason nearly screamed as he came around the cock in his pussy pushed hard against his cervix. His cum couldn’t flow out of him with his dad’s cock still in the way, so it just made a bad squelch and got pushed back up into him as Bruce continued to thrust.
“Should have known you were meant to be a mommy when you were little,” Bruce groaned, starting to rock his hips harder with each wail that passed Jason’s lips. “How much of me could you have taken? I bet I could’ve popped right through your tiny cervix right to your little womb.”
Each hard rock of his hips continued to send Jason over the edge, his orgasm continuing to roll in wave after wave of painful pleasure. It hurt, worse than the first, and he spasmed in his dad’s grasp. Bruce refused to stop and his cries started up again, Bruce moaning at the sound of them.
“Gonna give my baby a baby,” He kissed Jason's throat, licking up the side until he reached the silvery scar that rested on the side of it. He murmured against the batarang scar he left there, asking once more, “You wanna be a mommy, baby?”
Jason’s brain was gone. The pulsing cock in his pussy pushed against his womb, too big to not constantly hit the spot that made his eyes roll back, and the words and drugs and pleasure made him feel so small.
“M-mmh,” He tried. “M-mommy.”
His dad groaned and Jason felt something warm and wet flood his pussy.
“I’ll keep you full until it takes,” Dad promised, and Jason could only sob.