Chapter Text
For the first time in his adult life, Bruce feels true fear, and he stares down at Tim’s pretty, marked, hairless body as he strategizes.
He has options, he’s not called the world's greatest detective for nothing.
He could take Tim into the bunker and hunker down for a while to give him time to think. He'd specifically picked this room for the bunker availability.
He could also confront everything head on, after all, his baby had consented to everything that they did during playtime.
He could kill everyone and everything standing between him and the unborn baby currently being fertilized in his pretty boywife’s belly.
The only critical mistake in all of these plans is that they hinge on Tim’s loyalty to him. Tim needs to be willing to devote himself to his daddy like he had when he was little.
He goes for option two, confident in his ability to talk his way out of it even if Tim says otherwise. He was drunk, high, blackmailed, whatever. He. Is. Innocent.
On the other side of the door is not what he expected. It’s a meek-looking hotel room attendant pushing a cleaning cart.
“Room service?”
His sigh of relief is obvious, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t bother replying as he slams the door in the woman’s face.
Of course, Timmy hadn’t turned on him! How paranoid could he be? Jason must have simply butt dialed him by accident or something. Jason hadn’t actually heard anything. It’s all just a funny coincidence.
With light shoulders and a throbbing cock, he once more mounts Tim’s pliant body, sliding his cock deep and simply staying that way for a moment. He thinks about his future son or daughter swimming around inside as he fucks their mommy.
He’s surprised to find Tim still has some energy in him, pushing against his chest with weak arms as he continues to sob.
“I’m begging you, Daddy, please let me go,” he cries, flinching away when Bruce leans down to lick up his tears.
“I know you’re happy to have my baby, but it hurts me to see you crying so much, Timmy.”
Bruce’s speed is brutal, maintaining a brutal pace for nearly three full minutes. Tim can no longer feel anything below his waist, his body trembling from sleep deprivation, dehydration, stress, fear, or a combination of everything.
“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!”
There’s another knock as the volume of Tim’s screams increase.
“Stop, Daddy!” he continues to beg, despite knowing his words would fall on deaf ears.
Bruce ignores the knock, figuring it’s the moronic housekeeper coming back.
He licks Tim’s tits again and again, sucking and biting and chewing, while his hands wander his body, playing with his clit and leaving bruises all over his fair skin.
Neither of them hear the door open through Tim’s screams.
“Get away!”
“Tell me you want me, baby. Tell me to rape you like you always do.”
“No, Daddy! Stop it! Stop raping me!” Tim sobs with all that’s left in him.
Their intercourse is stopped altogether when Bruce is hit on the side of the head. He goes tumbling to the floor, his cock sliding out of his baby and leaving him empty.
“I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!!!” Jason screams, jumping on him and pummeling him into the ground, fueled by pure rage.
He’s pulled off by the police who take their sweet time separating him from his bloodied, beaten father.
Tim sits up in a daze, subconsciously adjusting his torn lingerie to try and cover him as if it would preserve his modesty.
Dick is suddenly at his side, tears pouring from his eyes as he quickly covers him with a blanket.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chants, hugging his baby brother’s battered body to his chest as he sobs.
He keeps apologizing and Tim can only cry.
Jason remains restrained by the police until Bruce is taken away.
“Where are they taking Daddy?” Tim asks, a part of him still worried for his daddy.
“You don’t have to worry about that, Timmy,” Dick whispers, rubbing his back soothingly.
The paramedics take him away. The hospital room is cold and scary. He wants to change but they won’t let him until they take pictures at funny angles. He feels comfortable in front of the camera, since his father had always recorded their playtime.
His hospital stay is around three days. He gets to stay at Jay-Jay’s apartment in the city which is fun.
He sits on the couch in the living room wearing a pair of Jason’s sweatpants and a hoodie, both entirely too large for his lithe frame. Dick sits to his left and Jason to his right.
Across from them sit a pair of detectives.
“They’re scary,” he mumbles to Jason, scooching closer and clinging to his arm.
“It’s okay, Baby Bird, they’re here to help. Do you think you can try to answer some of their questions?”
“…Mhm.”
Clearing her throat, the detective with a ginger braid starts speaking with the green light from Dick and Jason.
“Thank you for your time, Tim. I’m Detective Gordon. This is my partner Detective Brown. Like your brother says, we have some questions for you. Is that alright?”
Tim nods, huddling even closer to his brother.
“Okay, first, I'd like you to tell me what some of these words mean. Let’s start with fireworks.”
“That’s when you feel all tingly inside.”
“What usually causes… fireworks?”
“It depends, but it’s when you feel really tight and kinda uncomfortable before it all goes away like ‘pop!’ and you feel nice and floaty afterward. I think it’s called an o.. orga…”
“Got it, thank you, Tim. Next, we have penny and cunnie.”
“Oh, that’s easy! Penny is what boys have and cunnie is what girls have. Daddy said my penny would grow if I ate all his ice cream but I still have a cunnie,” he frowns, feeling somewhat disappointed.
Although his brothers are tense beside him, they meet his nervous glances with encouraging smiles.
“What is… ice cream, Tim?” the detective asks, sharing a nervous glance with her partner and his brothers.
“It’s what comes out of a penny when fireworks happen,” he explains patiently.
He is somewhat confused as to why they don’t have any prior knowledge of these terms. His daddy had said that people like to use the more ‘casual’ terms they teach in sex ed, but that his terms were more ‘scientific’ and adult-like.
“I… I see,” she says, clearly struggling to maintain composure. “And what might cherry ice cream be?”
“Daddy’s penny is big and my cunnie is small so his ice cream always turns into cherry ice cream when my cunnie tears during playtime. It hurts but it feels good so it’s okay, and it only hurt really bad the first time Daddy put his penny in my cunnie. It was extra cherry ice cream then.”
The blonde-haired detective quietly rises and runs off. They hear her vomit into the kitchen trashcan.
“Did I say something wrong?” Tim frowns, feeling self-conscious.
“You’ve done nothing wrong, Timmy,” Jason reassures.
“That’s all for defining those words, Tim. Thank you for your help. We now have some questions regarding your late boyfriend, Conner.”
It takes a moment for his brain to catch up. Ever since coming home from the hospital, his memory has been sort of blotchy, images appearing and disappearing like an Etch-A-Sketch.
He remembers fond memories with his daddy and his brothers and his friends, but nothing negative or harming or distressing breaks through. His brain has overcorrected, showing him only pleasant memories in an attempt to protect him from his trauma.
His tears begin to fall before he knows why.
“What happened to Conner?” he squeaks.
“Conner… Conner was killed by a drunk driver the night you– when you were with… Mr. Wayne.”
“When we were having playtime?”
“Y–Yes,” she chokes out.
“Oh… Oh.”
His memories of the night come back to him, how scary it had all been.
“It’s my fault,” he sobs.
“That’s not true, Timmy,” Dick soothes.
“He died 'cause I wouldn’t let Daddy rape me and make me pregnant and make me a mommy!”
His brothers are a mess beside him, barely holding it together amid their rage and sadness and grief and helplessness.
“I know it’s hard, and I’m terribly sorry to ask this, Tim, but can you tell me what exactly happened.”
“Well, Daddy said he’s gonna make me pregnant for my sweet sixteen and then I said I wanted to go to Connor, but then Daddy got mad and did this,” he mimes strangling someone, “with his hands and then he was putting his penny in my cunnie and I said I was sorry and that I wouldn’t talk about Conner anymore.”
He pauses, replaying the scene in his head.
“Daddy’s penny felt good and it was big and he sucked on my titties and played with my clitty which was nice. But then he got upset and picked up the phone to call somebody and said he doesn’t care how, that he just needs it done by tonight. I begged him to call it off but he made me promise to get pregnant and I did! But then he changed his mind and said it was too late. And then he made me beg him to rape me.”
With his eyes trained on the coffee table and the fun comic books Jay-Jay has put out for him, he misses the dismay and horror etched onto the faces of the ginger-haired detective and his two brothers.
He picks up a comic book and hums happily, entertained by the funny pictures, the memory he’d just recounted having been scattered into the winds the moment he picked up the book.
The detective leaves with her partner, Dick and Jason in shambles as Tim lies on his stomach, kicking his feet and giggling as he reads.
It is unfathomable, unbelievable, too disturbing for them to even attempt to comprehend.
For the past eight years, their beloved baby brother has been groomed and assaulted and raped by their father, all under their noses.
And they’d thought the worst could be physical abuse and neglect.
They cannot look at their baby brother without being overwhelmed with guilt and remorse and shame. They had failed him, failed him so spectacularly that he sits here as a sixteen-year-old babbling away in dreamland like he’s half his age.
“Jay-Jay, I’m hungry,” Tim calls suddenly, not lifting his eyes from his comic book.
Like always, his bossiness didn’t bother them, but seeing him act so… unaffected after a traumatic event is jarring. It’s clear Tim’s brain had shifted things around in the memory department to protect him from a total mind break, but that didn’t mean his brothers didn’t remember.
While Tim was hospitalized, they had visited the Cave and found Bruce’s extensive collection of disgusting pornography in the form of videos, photos, voice memos, breast and vaginal molds, miscellaneous liquids stored in glass bottles, articles of clothing including panties and bras that Tim had clearly worn while being raped.
They’d been forced to watch through multiple videos of Tim being filmed with fingering himself, humping Bruce’s thigh, modeling naked for Bruce, giving him a blowjob, riding him, drinking his cum and piss, and sucking his fingers in order to properly identify the individuals in the videos as their father and baby brother.
It was horrifying, and they were, effectively scarred for life, not nearly as scarred as Tim who had endured it all, though.
“Okay, Baby Bird,” he says, voice shaky as he fights tears, “I’ll fix you something.”
Tim glances up at the sound of his voice, frowning.
“Can Dickie do it? I want suckies,” he says, eyes locked on Jason’s hand.
“Um, just a sec, okay, Timmy?”
They receive a whine in response as they move to the kitchen to discuss the oral fixation situation.
“I can’t do it,” Jason immediately confesses. “How is it any different than what that bastard’s been doing?”
Dick somehow maintains reason.
“It’s different, Jay. He’s had this habit since he was a baby. There’s nothing… sexual about it. Da– He just made it that way because it fit his agenda.”
“Timmy doesn’t know it’s different, Dick.”
“Then we’ll have to make sure he knows,” Dick says, eyes hard. “We can spoil him and also teach him. We’re not bound to one or the other.”
“Fine, but just order delivery or something. If you leave me alone with him I’m afraid I’ll go ballistic.”
With a final nod, they return to the living room. Tim is right where they left him, only looking much more irritated.
“I want suckies, Jay-Jay!” he whines.
Jason wordlessly takes a seat beside him, allowing him to grasp his hand and suck on his fingers as he continues flipping through the comic book.
All is well until about ten minutes later when Tim starts grinding against the couch, whining and fondling his breasts with the hand not holding Jason’s fingers to his mouth.
“My cunnie hurts!” he moans softly as he rubs himself against the couch.
Immediately, Jason withdraws his fingers and moves away, trying to ignore his baby brother’s look of betrayal.
When Jason refuses to meet his gaze, Tim turns to Dick.
“Dickie,” he whines, “can I have suckies?”
Determined to hold it together as the oldest, Dick stares at Tim with a stern gaze.
“Why do you want suckies, Timmy?”
Tim cocks his head as if confused by the obvious question. He continues fondling his round breasts but his hips have stopped moving.
“Because it makes me feel comfortable.”
“Not because it makes you feel good?”
“No, I like suckies when my cunnie’s normal too. I like Jay-Jay’s suckies the most! Makes me feel loved.”
“How about we make a rule, Birdie? You can only have suckies when your… when you feel normal, okay?”
“Mmm… okay!”
Right, so that takes care of separating the finger-sucking from any sexual acts, but they’re still left with the problem of Tim’s absurdly high libido.
They’re at a loss. Since it’s a biological reaction, it’s not as if Tim can control it, and in no way do they blame him for the way he has been groomed, but they are also unwilling to be the ones to pleasure him to release.
After two scares where Tim tried to unbutton Jason’s, then Dick’s pants while rubbing himself, they hired a sex therapist, one specializing in adolescent grooming and abuse.
With the large endowment they received the moment Bruce was put in prison – a particular clause in the trust working in their favor – they hired her on call.
She is a middle aged woman with kind eyes and a gentle disposition. Her daughter is also a victim of grooming and violent rape, and she comes by whenever Tim’s feeling aroused.
As his legal guardians now, Dick and Jason are offered the option to supervise and each session, whether talk or physical therapy, is heavily recorded by a medical scribe and made available to them should they feel the need to vet the process and ensure Tim’s wellbeing.
They’ve become accustomed to their routine, allowing Tim suckies at his request, cooking for him, cleaning up after him, and doing essentially everything they can for him as he very slowly heals.
During the sessions where the sex therapist helps him through his arousal with a toy or, sometimes, her fingers, they take turns wearing noise cancelling headphones, at least one of them needing to remain available in case they call for help for some reason.
It has happened only once before, but the possibility remains, regardless.
Tim had been moaning and whimpering as he worked an eight inch dildo into himself, and had suddenly gone into a panic, crying out to Jason for help. He’d walked into his baby brother stark naked lying on his back with a dildo speared inside of him as he sobbed into his hands.
It’s demoralizing, is what it is, but they continue nonetheless.
He often asks for their father, unaware of the pain he’d been put through because of the monster.
Sometimes they tell the truth and explain that he’s in prison, other times they lie and say he went to become a pirate or astronaut or something to convey that he wouldn’t be back for a long, long time.
So, now they sit side by side on the couch watching Toy Story as Tim sits in Jason’s lap and sucks on his fingers, Jason patiently cleaning up his drool as he focuses on the movie. Dick works on his laptop with Tim’s feet in his lap and the smell of chicken pot pie wafts through the apartment as his favorite bakes in the oven.
Their beloved baby brother is broken, and while they don’t know whether he can be fixed, the best they can do is try.