‘So this is what a Marvel vs DC crossover is like…’ Ben’s thoughts teemed with hypothetical matchups.

Meanwhile, milf Black Widow wiped off her breasts with some tissues she pulled out from a hidden pocket.

Seeing those massive tits, Ben shook his head. ‘Almost got lost in the celestial tier...I need to stay on Earth to monitor these twin villains...’

Staring at her rub herself, Ben wondered when Black Widow attained such powers of hypnosis...

Once the milf finished cleaning herself off, she zipped up her leather outfit, sending her breasts back into hiding like supervillains on the run...

Then, Without saying goodbye or even looking at Ben, she turned, preparing to leave.

Realizing the real hero was about to get away, Ben yelled, “Wait! Give me your number!” He stepped forward and shoved his cell phone into her hand in a hurry.

Only giving him a sideways glance, she chuckled, then dialed a number into the phone and handed it back to him.

Ben saved the number, but when he looked back up, she was gone. ‘That’s my move…’

Still, he let out a sigh of relief because he could at least contact her later. ‘Can’t let that one get away. That’s my future wife...’ Then he looked at his phone. “F*CK! This is the number for Domino’s pizza!”

Despite his pants still being down, with an urgency like he saw the bat signal in the sky, Ben waddled out at max penguin-pace.

He searched in every direction for any hint of his savior, but she was nowhere to be found. True heroes didn’t seek appreciation…

Ben stuck out his arm into the darkness, as if grasping for something, something too good to exist on this Earth, something priceless. “Titjob Tina…”

…

That was the name he saved her as in his phone, since she didn’t reveal her true identity… This way, he wouldn’t feel as bad losing to a named boss...

Alas, Ben needed to accept that they were gone—the tits that got away...

He sighed. ‘Happiness cums and goos…’

***

Batman's eyes were determined. 'Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we nut...' 

After cleaning himself up, Ben was tip-toeing through the dim corridors. He'd cleaned himself up and was heading back to the exit near the bar. He knew he was getting closer because the volume of the electronic music was decreasing. Still, he had to be careful.

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The path wasn't complicated but he didn't want to misstep into another hallway from hell. Half the doorways in this warehouse hid the gaping jaws of giant demons, lying in wait for wandering fools to deliver themselves as food.

Ben walked with a careful pace. ‘Should I look at my points?’ Throughout the night, he received various system alerts but never opened them because he was always occupied or in cornhole danger…

‘No…I can’t risk seeing something there that’ll motivate me into staying here any longer. This is the devil’s anus…I can’t allow his whispers to entice me. In this place, it’s easy to lose control and become a cumtroll… I’ll look at them when I get home.’ Despite his last encounter going well, Ben didn’t forget the terrible things he’d seen, nor ever could he… Suddenly, he stopped. There were people yelling, approaching from behind.

“You call yourself a butt-spelunker?!?”

“What about you? Rectum ranger?!? Hah! You ain’t no Chuck Norris!”

…

‘Accelerate!’ Ben sped up his pace. He was a little worried though. Although he remembered the path back, he wasn’t sure of the surroundings. On the way here, he was too busy staring at the milf’s ass. He only hoped there wouldn’t be too many dangers.

“Batman! It’s you!” someone yelled from Ben’s left.

Ben glanced in the direction of the voice. There stood a grungy room with concrete floors that housed many shirtless men. There was a sign on the wall: “Fist Club.”

...

Several more lines underneath read:

“The first rule of Fist Club is: please talk about Fist Club.”

“The second rule of Fist Club is—” Ben didn’t need to read anymore!

He looked at the man who yelled at him. It was the four-legged demon!

Ben grimaced. ‘Damn, it’s Fart Fist Ace...’

The demon waved him over. “Batman! Come!”

Ben’s face turned green. ‘Batman your granny!’ He skulked away into the shadows.

***

Ben felt like he was in a Cube movie today, with one room worse than the next and no way out. That’s why he hesitated to feel relief when he viewed the new space he entered. This one was clean, at least compared to the other rooms. It had to be, because it was a giant shared shower.

‘It must’ve been off when I passed through before.’ Now, the sound of running water from various faucet-heads permeated the area. The shower area was like one you might see in a sports locker room, with light blue tiles covering the floor and walls, and many people showering. Although Ben couldn’t call it normal civilization, he had to admit it wasn’t as bad as most parts of the house of horrors he experienced so far.

He walked around the edges, trying to pass to the exit on the other side. ‘At least they clean themselves up after.’ Then he got closer. ’That’s not clean at all!’

They were pissing on each other!

These showers were a disguise! The true showers were golden!

Ben almost slipped several times as he sprinted out of there into the next room.

***

"Would you like sumthin' from the gift shop?" A male clerk with many facial piercings and a black leather apron asked Ben.

This was the next area, the last before the exit. One could argue it was the ideal place for a gift shop.

However, Ben squinted. He didn't expect such a shop to be here. "There's a gift shop? Do you have postcards?"

"All we have is dildos."

…

The clerk pointed to the wall behind him. "We got all the new models:

Armadildo…

The Donald Pump…

That’s the one with Mr. President’s head as the mushroom tip…

Of course, there’s the Shrek Dildo…the dildo with the heart of gold…”

…

After rambling a while, the clerk turned back around. That’s when he realized he’d been talking to thin air.

Ben had long escaped…

The clerk frowned and gazed at the floor. “Shoot…Billy, you screwed it up again…This is why daddy always says you’re no good…no dang good…Didn’t tell him about the hole-sale dickscount...’