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Description

In the dim light of the waning moon, Robin lies defeated, his once vibrant costume now a tapestry of mud and despair. He kneels, the cold sludge seeping through his suit, as desperation grips his heart. His call for help is a hoarse whisper, drowned out by the cacophony of a frenzied crowd closing in. Shadows loom over him, hands outstretched, eager to claim the fallen hero. The air is thick with menace, and the night, once a cloak of anonymity, now feels like a shroud, as the line between savior and captive blurs in the chilling tableau.

The menacing crowd, either drugged or hypnotized, ignores the pleas. They enjoy how submissive the hero is, and they cannot help but lust about the Boy Wonder's round bubblebutt. They have to have this little bird.

Description

In the dim light of the waning moon, Robin lies defeated, his once vibrant costume now a tapestry of mud and despair. He kneels, the cold sludge seeping through his suit, as desperation grips his heart. His call for help is a hoarse whisper, drowned out by the cacophony of a frenzied crowd closing in. Shadows loom over him, hands outstretched, eager to claim the fallen hero. The air is thick with menace, and the night, once a cloak of anonymity, now feels like a shroud, as the line between savior and captive blurs in the chilling tableau.

The menacing crowd, either drugged or hypnotized, ignores the pleas. They enjoy how submissive the hero is, and they cannot help but lust about the Boy Wonder's round bubblebutt. They have to have this little bird.