hooded

by Eriord (ao3)

“Why do omegas like you never learn, Dick?” Bruce sighed, the disappointment clear in his voice and the furrow between his brows.

I’m sorry, Dick tried to beg, tears sparkling in his crystal blue eyes, please, alpha, I’m so sorry.

But of course, Bruce hadn’t been moved by any of his earlier apologies. His hard expression hadn’t faltered once, not against Dick’s sobbed explanations as he was pulled from his hiding spot in the back of the delivery truck, his pleading before the prick of a needle caused the world to go black, or his screams when he woke up strapped to the playroom table, in agonizing overstimulation from the vibrator strapped between his legs.

Now, he was just exhausted, limp and shaking, a keening noise still ripping free from his throat as another orgasm rattled through him. He doubted he could have managed any words at all, even if Bruce hadn’t packed his mouth with a squishy mouth filler and sealed it tight under white medical tape.

Bruce sighed again, shaking his head. Finally, finally, he turned off the vibrator, setting it aside. Dick tried to sob out a thanks as his body was able to relax for the first time in hours.

“I brought you here to be the omega of my pack,” Bruce continued, settling down on a stool next to Dick’s head. “That’s a position of honor. You were going to raise the next generation of Wayne alphas. But I have no need for an omega who doesn’t want to be part of my pack.”

Dick’s eyes went wide. Could Bruce—could Bruce be thinking of letting him go?

The alpha reached under the table, pulling out a small crate, filled with shiny black equipment.

“On the other hand, I do think my boys would appreciate having a pet.”

Those embers of hope were instantly snuffed out, doused in the familiar terror of something new being added to the toy box. A muffled moan of fear escaped before he could stop it.

“Unfortunately, the pet we got is slow and stupid and clumsy,” Bruce continued, sorting through leather and latex, his gaze raking down Dick’s body, strapped against the padded table. “But maybe taking care of something so helpless will teach them responsibility.”

The alpha stood and walked to the sink, wetting a washcloth. “For instance, cleaning up after themselves.”

He ran the cloth down Dick’s body, wiping away the sweat and cum coating his thighs. Dick shivered, the cloth leaving a freezing trail on his skin, but he wasn’t bare for long; as Bruce went, he pulled a pair of crotchless, latex leggings over his legs. They were thin and tight, molding to every curve of his calves and thighs, clinging to the outside of his hips and the waistband pressing into the sides of his waist. His crotch, his small cock and his fleshy cunt and the swell of his ass, were all left exposed. His feet, too, except for a thin band of latex that dug into the arch of his foot, keeping the leggings from riding up and forcing his foot to flex, his legs forming an L shape against the ground.

Bruce smoothed the table straps back over Dick’s legs, pulling them tight and buckling him down. The straps felt different through the latex, thicker somehow.

He had regained enough strength to fidget as Bruce undid the straps keeping his arms down. Bruce sighed yet again, and laid a thick palm over Dick’s nose. 

“Be good,” Bruce said warningly, even as Dick began to squirm in earnest, his chest burning in need of air. But he had very little leverage strapped down as he was, and there was no way his meager strength could match the alpha’s anyway. 

Just as darkness began to curl at his vision, Bruce released him. Dick’s head felt very light as he struggled to force enough oxygen through his nose, into his lungs. By the time he could focus on his alpha again, Bruce had already wiped down his arms, and rolled latex bolero sleeves up one side. This latex felt very similar to what was on his legs, thin and elastic and very, very tight.

“Keep yourself relaxed,” Bruce ordered gruffly, as he smoothed the latex across the top of Dick’s shoulder and the back of his neck. The alpha bent Dick’s free arm, scrunching up the empty sleeve and forcing it over Dick’s hand.

The sleeve ended in built in gloves, and Dick obediently wiggled his fingers into them, feeling the slightly thicker material, molded to curve over his wrists and palms. While his thumb was free, the fingers of the gloves were sewn together, so that all he could do was flap his hands open and closed.

“Stop that,” Bruce scolded, stilling Dick’s hands and pressing them into balls, his fingers curled in and his thumbs across the outside. “Hold your hand like this.”

Chastened, Dick did so, his head turned so he could watch Bruce grab a new set of leather pieces. The first were his mittens, which he’d expected ever since the latex had come out; Bruce loved to make sure he couldn’t open anything by locking his hands into useless balls. Dick hated it, hated the helpless state he was reduced to, unable to open doors or hold a fork to feed himself, but if this was the punishment for trying to run away, he knew he was getting off light. He didn’t protest as the mitts were forced over his hands, the thick cuffs locked with little gold padlocks around his wrists.

Bruce strapped his arms down again, and carefully cleaned Dick’s face, scrubbing until his skin felt red and refreshed. This time, the alpha reached not for more black leather or latex, but for a thick roll of white medical gauze.

Dick eyed it, curiosity tempering his wariness. He’d been expecting the whip or the paddle, to be beaten until he couldn’t sit or lay down without agony. He’d already been forced to cum until he couldn’t move, but he hadn’t been stuffed full of weighted balls, knotted with a dildo, and made to sweep the Manor, one of Bruce’s favorite punishments. After his last major infraction, Bruce had tied his hands and feet to the floor and hoisted him into a brutal backbend by a rope around his balls, and left him, hanging, for a full 24 hours. Even when Bruce untied him, he wasn’t able to unbend; he simply tipped to the side, his back and his limbs and his crotch unable to unfurl, twitching in agony against the ground.

In comparison, the soft scratch of the gauze wasn’t so bad. Bruce’s hands were gentle as he wrapped it around the top of Dick’s neck, and then began looping it up, crossing over and under Dick’s chin to the back of his head.

By the time Bruce tenderly brushed Dick’s bangs back to loop the gauze across his forehead, Dick’s hair and head was almost entirely covered. Only the center of his face, from nose to eyes, was completely free. The gauze was tight, but the fabric was so soft and giving that it didn’t pull at Dick’s hair and skin like tape did.

Almost sweetly, Bruce unstrapped Dick’s shoulders, sitting him up and slipping behind him. Dick felt his eyes flutter as the warmth of his alpha pressed against his back, the smell and power enveloping him. He’d been stupid to try to run. He needed to make himself understand, this was the best existence he could hope for. 

A click and bright light penetrated his daze. Dick opened his eyes to find that Bruce had illuminated the mirrored wall in front of them, clearly displaying their intertwined position. Dick almost looked like a ruined Barbie doll, his limbs hidden against Bruce’s black clothes, his head bald under the white gauze. He frowned, his eyes catching on a white piece of gauze taped to his chest. He hadn’t even felt it.

“It’s a shame you didn’t want to be our omega,” Bruce murmured, his words a thrum against Dick’s head. “I’ll miss that pretty face. But maybe you were always meant to be a pet.”

Bruce held up a final piece of latex, leather, and buckles. 

It was a thick latex hood, molded to firmly hold a chin and nose and brow bone, custom as everything belonging to Bruce Wayne was. Dick could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the wide collar and heavy lock, the built in kitten ears, the shiny reinforced material over the eyes, the ears, and the mouth. The only holes in this hood were the ones that would let him breathe. 

Terror was rising in Dock’s chest. He tried to force it down, tried to remind himself that it couldn’t be a permanent addition, that they’d need to remove the hood if he was to eat, but that just created the horrifying thought that Bruce was done with him, that he was going to be locked in the hood until he starved and died.

As though he could sense the fear brewing behind Dick’s eyes, Bruce patted him on the head. Thick fingers plucked at the tape holding the gauze down, revealing a short tube protruding directly from the smooth skin between Dick’s clavicle. The area was oddly numb; he could see Bruce’s fingers pressing into him, but he couldn’t feel anything against his chest.

Bruce pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Dick’s face. “I would never let you starve,” he murmured, tracing the little tube. “This way, we don’t even need your mouth to keep you fed.”

It took a long, weightless moment for Dick to understand, and then frantic, muffled pleas were spilling from his stuffed mouth. He was flailing, fighting with all of his strength, but his legs and wrists were still strapped down, and Bruce’s grip around his neck was too strong. Loud, desperate screams tore from his throat, the world cloudy with tears as the hood came closer and closer, but there was nothing he could do as Bruce slowly, brutally forced the latex over Dick’s skull. It was excruciatingly tight, compressing every bit of bone and cartilage in his face; it improved only slightly when his chin slipped into the right groove, his nose and brow following. 

But Bruce was still pulling, yanking the back down. Without the gauze, Dick would have lost every hair in his head. As it was, the thick pads of reinforced latex stretched and pressed against his eyes until he thought they’d pop, his jaw clenched so tight he feared all of his teeth would shatter. He couldn’t even breathe, the unrelenting burn of rubber filling his nose, the small holes clearly not aligned properly. 

When the hood finally slid home, the small neck opening snapping into place under his jaw, he’d have felt relief if it didn’t feel so permanent. As it was, he could only whimper, still unable to draw in any air, the hood’s pressure so great it was like his nose was being pinched shut. 

He shook his head frantically, as though momentum could dislodge something holding him so tightly. A large, rough hand smacked down on one of his small tits. He could almost see Bruce’s face in his mind, snapping at him to settle down, and it set off a new wave of panic when he imagined never seeing or hearing his alpha again. The dark was rapidly creeping in at the edges of his vision when thin tubes were forced into one nostril and then the other, sweet, cool air filling his lungs. 

Dick practically collapsed against his alpha, his chest heaving, sobs rattling through him as he felt the collar tighten around his throat, sealing the hood tightly to his skin. The thick padding over his ears meant that he could barely hear anything over the harsh gasp of his own breathing and the furious pound of his heart, echoing through his muffled senses. Properly fitted, there was a sliver of space over his eyes, but it was so dark it took all his concentration to recognize when they were even open. It made no difference visually. He tried to scream, but there was nowhere for the sound to go. Instead it seemed to turn inward, until his head was buzzing angrily with the stifled vibrations.

Bruce was moving behind him, impervious to his pleas and panic. Dick barely noticed the straps being undone, but he shrieked as he was thrown over his alpha’s shoulder, his trapped hands scrambling uselessly against a wide back. He was constantly being thrown over someone’s shoulder, to the point where he usually didn’t even mind it anymore, but without his sight or hearing or hands, it was somehow a new experience. He didn’t know which way was up anymore, but he had never been more aware that if Bruce chose to simply let go, he wouldn’t even know until his head slammed into the ground.

A new weight dangled from his neck, and he knew it was the lock, making his situation inescapable even if his fingers were free. 

He tried to picture the Manor as he was carried through the halls, struggling to picture doors and rooms and flights of stairs, but it was impossible. It took only one moment of doubt—the second floor parlor or the third floor library?—and he was completely lost, the world a dark mystery. It was like he was floating through a black, colorless air, the only real thing Bruce’s hands around his thighs. 

They had walked what felt like an eternity, before he was set down, agonizingly gently, on something soft.

Bruce’s large, warm hand stroked gently down his back, before slipping down lower, his massive fingers slipping into Dick’s cunt. Even trembling and scared, he opened up easily for his alpha, too used to being fucked to change his body’s natural response. But what entered him wasn’t a scorchingly hot alpha cock; it was something short and round, not filling him up but plugging him closed, something long and soft hanging off the other end.

A tail, he realized. Bruce gave me a tail.

Bruce lingered for a moment longer, his hand on Dick’s asscheek, before he traced something into the skin.

He tensed, as though to leave, and Dick shrieked. He didn’t know—what did—he’d missed it—

Another smack on his ass broke him from his panic, and he concentrated as hard as he ever had as the finger touched his skin again.

F-I-N-D-M-E

This time, when Bruce stood to leave, he didn’t pause at all, no matter how loudly Dick cried.