Massive thank you to RookCaps for supplying the image: www.deviantart.com/rookcaps
Alfred's old eyes twinkled in delight as the rubber doll minced into the room with a squeak-squeak of its thick rubberised thighs rubbing together. The halls of Wayne Manor, polished and gleaming, echoed with the sounds of its movements, at least whenever they didn't ring with the guttural groans and passionate expletives of Robin as he fucked his doll's three orifices to his heart's content.
The doll had seen much use in the week since the Caped Crusader had transformed himself into it. Robin had assured Alfred that Batman had requested this treatment, as preparation for his upcoming mission, and who was he, a lowly butler, to say otherwise? Even still, when he'd accidentally walked in on his young ward to see Batman's blonde curls and rubbery beasts bouncing as Robin mounted him brutally on his dick, he'd begun to suspect Robin was enjoying this just a little too much.
Not that there wasn't amusement to be had. The woman-sized barbie doll shuffled towards them. It face was a plastic mask and its mouth a silent, ribbed tube, made for pleasure, not speaking. Even if it could speak, Alfred doubted if it would have the breath with how tightly the corset was cinched into its rubber flesh, narrowing its already waspish waist. Yet the eyes still seemed to express much of the trapped, inner humanity as they flitted to Alfred with desperation.
Taking one of the offered scones, Alfred thanked the maid for her service. He wasn't sure what was stranger - thanking a lifeless toy, or thanking his billionaire master of forty years. Or what amused him more. The scone was deliciously sweet.
"As much as I adore having her help around the manor, don't you think those alterations are too far?" Alfred asked primly, gesturing with his teacup to the beachball sized breasts that jiggled with each step, sculpted through Robin's growing mastery of the nanite disguise system. "This has gone on long enough."
As the maid moved towards him, bending into a servile bow, Robin's hand ensnared its waist, pulling its silicone ass into his lap. The doll wiggled, whether to escape his clutches or to massage itself against its master for his satisfaction, it was difficult to say.
"You know how serious Bruce gets with his training," Robin said, grabbing the doll's head and pulling it closer, savouring the taste of its cherry-red lips. "He throws himself body and soul into every disguise he takes. I'm merely helping him get into character before his mission."
"Well you're certainly giving him a run for his money," Alfred said, pretending not to notice Robin's flushing face as the sexdoll's hips wormed and wriggled in place. "And you are the master of the house while Bruce is... elsewhere... But I can't help but feel the streets of Gotham need its Caped Crusader again."
"Who says that needs to be Bruce?" Robin winked. One of his hands lipped beneath the voluminous pink petticoats.
"I beg your pardon?"
"We have a nanite disguise system, Alfred. If it can turn the World's Greatest Detective into this... thing-" Beneath the petticoats, his fingers did something that urged a breathy squeak from the dollified hero, emphasising his point. "-imagine what they could do to you."
Alfred gasped. "You mean I might... become Master Bruce?"
"Why not? It's just like Bruce always preached - Batman is more than a man, he's an idea, a legend. And since Bruce is currently far less than a man-" he said, his tone mocking. "-who is to say you can't embody that legend? You could have it all. His wealth. His women. Even his DNA."
"Bu-but I'm just his butler!" Alfred spluttered.
"You've been in this family longer than anyone else. Served them faithfully for 70 years." He gestured to the luxurious surroundings. "You deserve to enjoy the Wayne fortune than anyone else does... At least for a little while." He chuckled as he bounced Bruce on his knee. "And you'd be doing dolly here a massive favour. Wouldn't he, Bruce?"
The doll was silent, its eyes fixed imploringly on Alfred as the old man mulled over the idea. Deep in the Batcave, unnoticed by anybody, Bruce's thoughts scrolled down the Batcomputer screen, all capital letters and exclamation marks.