Gotham Squeeze (1 Viewer)

trainglec

Potential Patron
Part 1: Selena Kyle and the Venus Thigh-Trap

Selina approached the fence surrounding the greenhouse, clad in her skintight latex catsuit and clutching her power-whip in her right hand. Actually, “greenhouse” didn’t do this place justice - the dome shaped facility was more of a crystal palace, the greenery within illuminated by hundreds of halogen lamps. It was a strange facility, and it certainly stood out against the drab warehouses which made up the rest of Gotham Industrial Park 23. A sign was secured to the chain link fence, with the symbol of an orchid above bold red lettering. IVY PHARMACEUTICALS. And just beneath that, another sign in black and yellow, like an angry wasp. “PRIVATE PROPERTY. FENCE ELECTRIFIED. KEEP OUT.


Selina had no intention of obeying that second sign. With a barely perceptible flick of her wrist, she flung the power whip upwards towards the orange-clouded Gotham night sky. It quickly unfurled its full twenty meter length, and the end wrapped itself around the tip of a flickering lamp post, just outside the Ivy Pharmaceutical’s compound. Selina pulled the whip taught, then gripped it with both hands, and somersaulted, gripping a point further up with her strong legs, high heeled boots clicking as they locked together. Thus secured, she let go of the whip with her hands, and flipped upright to grab the powerful graphene cord further up, then repeated the maneuver, gracefully ascending her makeshift rope. As she rappelled higher, she felt a gorgeous, almost orgasmic rush of adrenaline. She lived for this. Breaking and entering, slinking around Gotham in places she shouldn’t...utilising the skills she learned as a gymnast when she was a teenager, and had now perfected. She was damn good at what she did….which was why he had recruited her for this task.


Reaching the summit of the lamppost, she flipped up one more and crouched on top of the bended metal top. Panting just a little, she surveyed the “greenhouse” further as she coiled up the whip and through it over the fence. The whole structure appeared to be full of green vines of some sort, likely the orchid plants that had made Ivy Pharmaceuticals so famous over the last year. And somewhere in there, hopefully alone, was her target.


***

Dr Pamela Isley’s face was familiar to anyone who had been out their own front door in Gotham in the last twelve months, or for that matter, anyone with a television set. Bright red hair, intelligent, innocent looking green eyes, always wearing a ridiculous lab coat. Manic pixie dreamgirl, thought Selina uncharitably. The young pharmaceutical entrepreneur’s face smiled down from billboards and posters advertising Ivy Pharmaceutical’ patented “Pherattract (™)” tablets, made from the orchid flower, a pill which women could take to boost their pheromones. Billed as “the ultimate alternative to perfume”, these “natural” remedies supposedly made any man in your vicinity go crazy with desire.


Selina had never bought any Pherattract herself. Why would she need to? She got enough male attention even when she wasn’t wearing her catsuit. Even in her late-thirties, she was still athletic, with raven black hair (currently held in place by the latex “cat’s ears” cap she wore when working). Truth be told, she thought this “Dr Isley” was a bit of a quack. To start with, she was only twenty-two years old. Who the fuck completes a medical degree in four years?? What was more, there had been reports of rising attacks on women throughout Gotham, with the male suspects pleading that they “couldn’t help themselves”, that the Pherattract had “made them do it”. That sounded like some catshit to Selina, but the Food and Drug Administration clearly thought something was up, because they’d issued a warrant for Pamela Isley’s arrest. Apparently in addition to ethical concerns about the Pherattract, there had been rumours in the biotech world that Dr Isley was doing some experiments with banned snake venom. The trouble was, every time they sent male officers to arrest her, they’d come away babbling about how she was some sort of goddess, was innocent, or misunderstood. Finally they sent in the Bat himself...who came away from Ivy Pharmaceutical’s downtown HQ empty handed. When he called Selina, he’d sounded embarrassed.


“Look, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, Selina….”


“You can say that again, Bruce. One day you’re in love with me, the next you get me arrested…”


“Look, I really need you to do this. I’ll pay you well. The thing is, this Pamela….I mean Dr Isley, she’s dangerous…”


“Too much for you, was she?”


“Don’t be catty, Selina. You know her work with pheromones makes her….difficult to apprehend.”


“Basically, you were slathering over her like a horny teenager, yeah? For fuck’s sake Bruce, she’s half your age. Is it the lab coat that does it for you?”


“Selina, please....”


In the end she’d said yes. She got Bruce to double the fee, and secure a “get out of jail” one off favour from Commissioner Gorden (she’d love to have been there when Bruce told him - the look on his face). At least the job would be ridiculously easy. For all her supposed “genius”, “Doctor” Pamela Isley was basically a spoiled brat who’d had too many things go right for her. She needed to be taken down a peg or to, and Selina believed she was the woman to do it.


Crouching on the top of the lamppost, she narrowed her eyes at the greenhouse like a panther sighting her prey. “Time to take your own medicine, doctor.”


Then she swung off the lamp post, locked her catsuit clad legs round the whip again, and slid down to the tarmac like a fireman down a pole. Once down, she yanked her power whip, pressing the auto-recoil, and strutted towards the greenhouse entrance.


***

The security panel on the greenhouse door opened easily - another gift from Bruce had been the override key card that made short work of pretty much every security system. Once inside, Selina found herself in a sort of canvas tunnel, a kind of airlock keeping the atmosphere inside at a certain pressure. She opened the zipper at the far end, and stepped into a jungle.


The heat hit her in the face, and she gasped. It has to be at least ninety degrees in there. Thick green foliage seemed to fill the entire space, the majority of which seemed to be ubiquitous vines which hung from scaffolding in the ceiling. Selina quickly began to wish she hadn’t worn the catsuit for this mission - it wasn’t like there would be any combat with this spoilt doctor brat, and now she was already sweating profusely.


She extended her power whip about three meters and lashed the foliage out of the way, pushing forward. As she did she could see little orchid petals go flying.


“Dr Isley? Come out. My name is Selina Kyle. I have a warrant for your arrest from the FDA.”


In the green gloom she thought she saw a flicker of red, but it was quickly gone.


“Come on, Pamela, if you make me search for you in this, I’ll have to punish you.” Selina cracked her whip, destroying more vines and orchids. Suddenly, a voice came from around her, barely more than a whisper. She had to strain to hear.


“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Miss Kyle. You’re hurting them.” Selina darted round, looking for the source of the voice, but couldn't see where it was coming from. She let out a throaty laugh.


“Hurting them? Oh yeah, I forgot that you're one of those batshit crazy girls who talks to her plants. Tell you what, Doctor….” Selina snapped the whip into the bush, sending more orchid petals flying. “How about…..” Crack. “You come out…” Crack “And surrender to me, then maybe I won’t have to…” Crack “Hurt your precious petals anymore. Deal?” She lashed the whip round three hundred and sixty degrees, hoping to perhaps catch the hidden doctor with it. She saw another flash of red, but still no sign.


“Miss Kyle….” Again, the voice from the foliage. Soft, calm, well spoken. Obviously the same voice from the commercials. “...I’m going to ask you one more time. Stop. Hurting. The . Plants.”


Selina through her head back and cackled. She was enjoying herself, despite the insufferable heat. She tore her latex cat-cap off and let her long black hair run free, even as she swung the whip down into the suffering orchids. “Or.” Crack. “What??” She said. “Everyone says you're so clever, but you seem to not understand your situation, little miss medic, so let me spell it out for you. My name is Selina Kyle. In the criminal underworld, I’m known as….” Crack. “...well, let’s just say I’m feline and deadly. I’m a black belt in Muay Thai, Jiu Jitsu and Kung Fu. I’ve taken on all sorts of low lives, as well as cops, and you know what, I always win. I was paid to bring you in, and that’s what I’m going to do. So how about you drop the mysterious tough girl act, show your fucking face, and maybe I won’t have to whip you so hard you’ll beg me to knock you out?” Crack. “And screw your fucking flowers!” Crack crack crack.


Selina was panting now, but grinning ear to ear. She loved her work, truly. When Dr Pamerla Isley spoke again, the voice was directly above her. “Wrong answer, kittie.”


Selena looked up, and saw that she was standing between two slender vines. Above her was a shock of bright red hair, and green eyes in a high cheekbones face, looking down almost pityingly. For a moment she was so surprised that she just stared up at the younger woman. Dr Pamela Isley wasn’t wearing her lab coat today. Instead, she was clad in a green one piece suit, much like Selina’s own catsuit but instead of latex, it seemed to be made of some smooth organic material, almost like green snakeskin, and was decorated here and there with leaves. No wonder I couldn't see her, though Selina. The only bare parts of her was her face, head arms and hands, which she was using to athletically grip two hanging vines. She was holding herself upright, and her legs were…..vines? Selina blinked again. What she had thought were two slender vines she was standing between, were actually the doctor’s snakeskin clad legs hanging down.


“Wh…..” Whatever the next words that were about to come out of Selina’s mouth, Dr Pamela Isley clearly didn’t want to hear them. From her superior position above the catburglar, the doctor lashed out with her long green legs. The backs of her thighs landed on Selina’s shoulders, making a slight squeaking sound as the snakeskin rubbed against the PVC. Selina staggered slightly, trying to stay on her feet even as her hands instinctively flew up to grab at the green limbs that had suddenly become her new collar, and she dropped her power whip in the process. Dr Isley’s green eyes remained incredibly focussed, like she was carrying out a skilled procedure. Selina suddenly heard a terrific CLICK, which she realised - too late - was Pamela’s ankles snapping together behind her head.


“I did warn you….” said the redhead, calmly. Then she jerked her legs taut, and squeezed.


To Selina, several things seemed to happen at once. First of all, despite herself, she screamed. Actually that wasn’t technically true. She tried to scream. The sound that actually made it out of the cat burglar’s lips was more of a pathetic choking cough and a high pitched wheeze. Pamela’s adductor muscles had ballooned around Selinas neck and lower jaw, effectively clamping her windpipe shut while compressing her lips into an involuntary “O” shape.

Second, she staggered, in part from the unexpected weight of the legs on her shoulders, but also in a desperate attempt to drop lower and pull free. It didn’t work. In fact, Pamela responded to this break for freedom by jerking her legs straight while pulling hard on the vines above her, her knuckles going white from the strain. The effect of this was to keep Selina standing upright, locked in place by her supposed target's legs.

The third thing to happen was that Pamela started talking. It took a moment for Selina to work out what she was saying over the sound of her own desperate wheezing, and her voice stayed quiet, calm, in the manner of a doctor explaining bad news to a patient.


“So, Miss Kyle, when are we going to see your black belt martial arts skills?” Her voice may have been placating, but an arrogant smirk was now on the redhead's face. This bitch was actually taunting her! Selina snarled - is as much as she could with her face being compressed inches from Pamela’s crotch - and finally decided to fight back. Her hands flew up to her tormentor’s thighs, the snakeskin material actually allowing her to get a pretty solid grip. She pulled. Nothing happened. Or, what happened was the hold got tighter.

“Well that was just stupid, wasn’t it?” Said Pamela from her dominant position. And Selina had to admit to herself, she was right.


The thing was, there was a certain irony to being caught like this, Selina had to admit. She knew what this hold was. Called a headscissor, she had used it before to take out guards. It was extremely effective, because it used the most powerful part of the body - the thighs - against the weakest part of the body, the neck. And all other things being equal, there was no way a person could break the hold with their arms. Still, Selina tried. What else could she do? She dug her fingers into the snakeskin and pulled, her biceps straining under her latex catsuit. If she could just get an inch, get some air, then she could…..but all her struggling seemed to result in was the hold getting tighter, like a pair of police handcuffs.


Pamela vocalised this. “You’re just making it worse for yourself, kittie.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmphhhh….” Squealed Selina as it felt like her neck was about to snap clean in two.

“What was that, cat got your tongue?” Cooed the redhead, while pulsing her thighs even tighter. “Ok, bad joke. Sorry not sorry.” And then she did something incredible. Still holding onto the vines with both hands, she rolled her eyes back almost orgasmically, and then slowly, gracefully, tilted her body backwards like she was reclining in a swinging chair. At the same time, she retightened her grip on Selina’s head, and then powered her legs upwards. Selina’s feet were lifted off the floor, and suddenly she found herself kicking pathetically with her feet in the air like some falling cartoon character,, even as her hands pulled uselessly at her tormentor’s thighs.


She had to admit, it was impressive.Selina was basically now being hung, Dr Isley’s thighs forming a sort of hangman’s noose around her neck. Pamela wasn’t even looking at her now, instead her whole body was arched backwards in that gymnastic pose, red hair hanging down in the vines, ankles crossed, while the cat burglar spluttered desperately in her thighs, her black hair spilled messily over the snakeskin material, her own latex legs kicking with futility beneath her. To any onlooker, it would look impressive. To Selina, it was terrifying. Her head suddenly felt like it was going to pop. The world was going blurry, and all she could see was Pamela’s arched body infront of her as she was pulled off the ground. Selina’s tummy desperately ballooned in and out under her catsuit as her lungs tried to get air that just wasn’t coming. She realised something: Dr Pamela Isley is going to kill me. I’m going to die in this greenhouse, between this woman’s thighs.


Suddenly, Selina hands weren’t pulling at Pamela’s thighs anymore. Instead, they were frantically tapping them. She was scared, and she was ready to submit. To beg if necessary. Because the truth was, despite her usual nihilistic view on life, Selina didn’t want to die. Not like this, throttled to death between this young entrepreneur’s thighs. She had underestimated her, she could see that now. She just hadn’t realised how strong…...oh fuck, she couldn’t breathe! She frantically kept slapping the redhead’s thighs. Mercy! Please, mercy! But the squeezing continued relentlessly. Slowly, Selina’s hands stopped their frantic tapping and started to go limp….


“Well, that’s enough fun for today.” Pamela opened her legs, and Selina dropped to the soil covered floor in a heap, coughing and retching, hands flying to her neck. Pamela backflipped acrobatically, and finally let go of the vines to drop to her feet next to the cat burglar, who was sobbing with relief on the floor. Looking up at the redhead, Selina saw that she was actually not as tall as her, which just added to her humiliation. She’d seemed like a goddess when she was locked in her thighs, but her tormentor was actually just a young woman, twenty two years old. With absolutely killer legs.


Dr Isley crossed her arms and stood in front of Selina, who was still trying to get to her knees.


“Let’s talk frankly, Miss Kyle. I could have killed you just then. You came in here, with your arrogant attitude, thinking you could stop my vital work. Work which will save the planet - the Pherattaract is just the start. I warned you - twice - not to hurt the orchids. You ignored me. So I punished you - perhaps I should have killed you? I could have said it was an accident, you are a known burglar after all.”


Selina just about managed to look up from her position on her knees. Pamela looked down at her, and it felt like being judged by an all powerful fairy goddess.


“But I’m feeling merciful….to an extent. So I’m going to let you go. But you’re going to work for me now. You’re going to be at my beck and call kittie, you’re going to steal from my competitors. Do you understand?”


Selina was still on her knees, taking deep gasps of breath. She almost said yes. At that moment, all she wanted to do was to crawl out of here and hide in a dark alley somewhere. How was she supposed to explain to Bruce what had happened? That she had been ambushed and thigh squeezed by this….brat?


“I’m not hearing an answer, Miss Kyle….” Said Dr Isley. And that was when Selina saw it. Her power whip, lying just a few feet behind Pamela, where she’s dropped it. If she could just reach it, maybe she could finally turn the tables….


She lunged, diving to the left of the other woman, hand outstretched. If she could just reach the power whip, she’d wrap the fucking thing round this crazy plant lady’s neck! Selina was fast, despite her energy being drained in the thigh trap. Unfortunately, Pamela was faster.


The doctor responded by taking a quick step to her right, adopting a stance a bit like a boxer preparing for a fight, knees slightly bent. Selina’s momentum was such that she couldn’t stop in time, and ended up diving between the younger woman's legs. Still, her hand was stretched out, reaching inches from the whip handle, when Pamela slammed her legs shut, like a soldier standing to attention.

The result was Selina’s head was once again trapped, staring out from between the backs of Pamela’s awesome snakeskin thighs. Still she reached for the whip like a drowning woman...and found her fingers just an inch short. She burst into tears even as Pamela tensed her legs. “Oh, Miss Kyle. That really was not a good idea.”


This time, Pamela’s thighs were locked onto Selina’s skull as opposed to round her neck. The good news was that she could kind of breathe. The bad news was it felt like her skull was going to implode. She screamed - properly this time, and tried to dig her heeled feet into the soil behind her, trying to force the other woman off balance. All that happened was Selina’s ass ended up ungracefully in the air while the other woman held her ground, grinding her thighs together, bending her knees ever so slightly to increase the pressure. In full on panic mode, Selina stopped trying to grab the whip and instead started trying to frantically pull at Pamela’s legs, feeling the impressive glute action ripple beneath her fingers. It had the same effect as last time: a tighter hold.

“D….Doctor….Please don’t….” Squealed Selina as she dropped back to her knees. Pamela ignored her, and instead started speaking like she was giving a lecture.


“As you’re going to die anyway, I feel I may as well tell you about my latest project.” She pulsed her legs as she said this, and Selina swore she heard something pop in her jaw where Pamela’s thighs were mashing into it.

“As you’re probably aware, I’ve been experimenting with snake venom. As part of this I’ve been taking very small amounts, as I’m convinced its medicinal properties could be….interesting. And I have to say it’s worked beyond my wildest dreams. I can see in the dark - hence how I was able to evade you when you came in. And I’ve developed extra smooth muscle on the inside of my legs - as you can probably feel now. This gives me - and, I hope, environmental soldiers when I give it to them - a new option for self-defence - the Venus Thigh Trap. And you’re going to be the first person to experience it, first hand.”


“N...no…...don’t…” screamed Selina, but Pamela was already moving. Keeping Selina’s head secure between her legs, she bent forward over the cat burglar’s PVC clad body, then sort of fell, planting her hands in the soil behind Selina's ass. She then quickly opened her legs, performing a sort of handstand, but before Selina could entertain any thoughts of freedom, the doctor quickly relocked her legs in a kind of reverse triangle. The end result was Selina was pulled upright onto her knees, the back of her head resting on Pamela’s ass, Pamela’s thighs constricting around the back of her neck even as the doctor’s calf wrapped itself around her throat. Pamela secured her ankle into her instep, and proned herself in a sort of push up position. Selina’s head looked like it was being devoured by an anaconda.


Then Pamela flexed.


“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” squealed Selina.


“I know it hurts now, Miss Kyle, but you should know that science - and the world - will thank you for your sacrifice today. It’s just a shame you can’t describe what it feels like, it would be good to have some notes. But let me describe what is happening - it will take your mind off your final moments.”


Selina’s hands scrabbled at the calf on her throat to no avail. She tried throwing her weight to the side, but Pamela flexed and kept her upright. Suddenly the pressure increased again and something in her skull or neck creaked alarmingly.


“My thighs are currently compressing the sides of your skull. In a minute, it will probably crack, but you will hopefully be unconscious by then. I actually had pretty strong thighs before I took the venom - I did a lot of hiking in the rainforest when doing my PHD - but the snake juice has added a layer of smooth muscle. It’s this that you can currently feel pulsing against your head, like a boa constrictor crushing its prey. I imagine it's worse than being waterboarded - I could see the Venus Thigh Trap being an interrogation technique as well as a deathhold.”


“P….p…...p…...ple….” Selina would certainly have told Pamela anything now if it would stop the squeezing.


“You will also notice that my calf is locked round your throat. This gives me two options for putting you out - well, actually three. I’m applying both a blood choke - my abductor muscles are compressing your arteries, among other things - and I am cutting off your air. In a minute your windpipe will collapse from the pressure. I could also actually just snap your neck - but somehow, that feels like cheating.” She actually let out a little laugh, then flexed again and the whole knot of leggy muscle constricted another few bars of pressure. Selina felt she must be having a stroke.


“Finally, you might take a moment to notice how none of your training - which you were boasting about earlier, Miss Kyle - can help you now. You’re paralysed in my hold. And now, it's time to say goodnight…..”


A high pitched whine from Selina’s throat may have been a final plea for mercy. Dr Pamela Isley let out a light grunt, then her legs began to tremble as she prepared a final thrust of her deathlock….


An explosion was followed by a sound of a huge amount of glass breaking, followed by a rustling in the bush.


“Damn it…” muttered Dr Isley, as she unlocked her legs and kicked Selina to the floor. The cat burglar fell face down in the soil and lay there twitching.


“Hands up!” Yelled a female voice, which Selina was dimly aware sounded like Barbara Gorden. She didn’t know if she’d ever been happier to hear the voice of Commissioner Gorden’s daughter, and Bruce’s protege.


Pamela, meanwhile, gracefully backflipped and disappeared into the foliage. Barbera ran forward, brandishing a police issue revolver like she was going to pursue, but then she noticed Selina gasping in the mud.


“Selina? Holy fuck, what happened?”


“I…...she…..thighs…..”


“Ok, just keep still, it looks like your neck might be injured.” Barbara quickly spoke into her radio,


“I need an urgent medic here, its Selina Kyle…” “Roger, are you making an arrest?” “Negative, she’s working with us...for fuck’s sake just get a doctor here….”


“N….no…..” Cried out Selina. “No...more…..doctor...please….”


“It’s ok Selina. She’s gone….for now. Although I’m going to track that bitch down and pursue her if it's the last thing I do!”


Two police medics came in with a stretcher to take Selina away. Barbara squinted into the foliage. Somewhere in there, a flash of red could be seen, then nothing. She frowned, and said to the other officers - “You guys haul ass...I’m going to search this place.”


TO BE CONTINUED
 

trainglec

Potential Patron
PART 2 Barbara Gordan: The Lab-Bat

Barbara Gorden, Bruce Wayne and the Commissioner stood around Selina Kyle’s hospital bed. Barbara noted how Bruce was holding the sedated woman’s hand, watching her shallow breaths with deep concern. She could tell he felt guilty about what had happened. Even her father - the Commissioner - looked grim.


There had been no love lost between the two women over the years. When Barbara had spent summers as Wayne Manor growing up, the Cat Burglar had been a fleeting presence, sometimes a thief, sometimes a “special guest”, sometimes an uneasy ally of Bruce and her father. To Barbara, she’d always come across as aloof, arrogant and, well, catty. But even she couldn’t help but feel sorry for her now. She looked like she had aged ten years, clad now not in her trademark catsuit, but in an anonymous hospital gown. She was wearing a white plastic neck brace, and had oxygen tubing running into her nose, looping behind her ears through her messy raven black hair, which Barbara noticed - for the first time - had a few early flecks of grey in it.


Presently, a blonde haired woman in green medical scrubs came in. Barbara - ever observant - quickly read off the name on her Gotham General Hospital ID Badge: Dr. H. F. Quinzel, Neurologist. The doctor went over to an x-ray film mounted on the wall and studied it intensely.


“Any news, Harleen?” Asked Bruce anxiously. Barbara knew that Bruce was on first name terms with all the medical staff here, a legacy of his parents’ philanthropic work. The blonde doctor kept concentrating on the x-ray as she spoke. She had a Brooklyn accent which Barbara found slightly inconsistent with her medical background.


“There are hairline fractures in at least three places on her skull. Her jaw is dislocated. Two upper vertebrae are misaligned. There is substantial bruising to her neck, and moderate trauma to her windpipe. That said, she was lucky. Another few seconds under that kind of pressure, and she’d be dead.”


She turned around and looked at Barbara, who had found Selina in the Ivy Pharmaceuticals greenhouse earlier in the evening. “If you hadn’t told me this was a combat injury, I would have said it was consistent with crush injuries from a snake attack. You said it was, what, some kind of choke hold?”


“Something like that....” Said Barbara.


Dr Quinzel let out a low whistle and turned back to the x-ray. “Some chokehold. I mean, I do locum work over at the Arkham Asylum and even there I’ve never seen anything like this. An almost perfect hold…” To Barbara’s ears she sounded almost in awe.


“Thank you Harleen, that will do for now.” Grunted Bruce from Selina’s side. The blonde doctor nodded and walked out.


Barbara had heard enough. She turned and headed for the door herself. “I’m going to bring her in.”


“Absolutely not! It’s too dangerous!” Said the Commissioner.


“Oh, come on Dad!” Barbara was instantly aware of how brattish and whiny her voice sounded. Her father brought that out of her. She paused, breathed, and lowered her voice to the one she used when arresting thugs on the beat. “We know exactly where Pamela Isley is. Let me handle this.”


Barbara had searched the greenhouse after she had found the half-dead Selina, but other than a few flashes of red had seen nothing. Dr Isley had clearly managed to slip out a hidden exit, and an hour or so later a patrol car had reported a red-headed woman in her early twenties entering the GothCorp building on 57th Street. It was known that Ivy Pharmaceuticals had laboratories on the 26th floor.


The Commissioner shook his head. “I have an all female SWAT team ready to bring her in...when the time is right.”


“When the time is right?!” Barbara could have slapped herself, again with the whiny voice!


Her father sighed, removed his glasses and began polishing them. “Lawyers acting on behalf of Ivy Pharmaceuticals filed an injunction against our warrant for her arrest about an hour ago. Dr Isley is claiming she acted in self-defence.” He turned to the unconscious Selina. “Our prosecutor is arguing unreasonable use of force, but it’s a tricky one….Selina Kyle is a known criminal, and Pamela Isley a respected young entrepreneur. Until we get this sorted, any arrest would be unlawful…”


“Then let me handle it.” Barbara said. This was her chance to prove herself, once and for all. “Not in police uniform. In the batsuit. Off the books.”


Bruce looked up suddenly at this. “No way. You're not ready yet, Barbara.”


Barbara tilted her chin up. “I am ready. I’ve been in the Gotham City police for four years, since I was eighteen. I’ve already made lieutenant, the youngest ever. And I’ve trained with you, for, what, eighteen months?”


Bruce sighed. “Selina had been fighting criminals - and cops - for almost as long as you’ve been alive, Barbara. She was a natural dom. And look what happened…”


Barbara thought the Bat was actually about to cry. “With the greatest of respect to Selina, she’s getting older…”


“She’s younger than me!” Protested Bruce.


Barbara continued. “Pamela Isley is a new kind of villainess. She needs a new kind of hero to take her down. You can’t do it, or any male - because of the effect of her Pherattract tablets. It’s a job made for me. Besides, I was at school with her. She was the library prefect, for fuck’s sake!”


Barbara remembered Pamela Isley well from their time at Gotham Academy. She was the stereotypical class geek, always in the library with her books, and shy. Some of the guys thought she was cute in a dorky way, although none ever dated her. Barbara hadn’t been surprised when she’d aced her finals and gone on to found Ivy Pharmaceuticals, but the idea that she was some sort of powerful villainess was frankly laughable.


“Barbara, you shouldn’t underestimate her. Just look what happened to Selina…” chastised her father, gruffly.


Barbara rolled her eyes. This was getting ridiculous. “Dad, Pamela was the class geek. Whereas I won - how many trophies for athletics? For Jiu Jitsu? Oh, that’s right, all of them. In a straight fight I’d kick her ass.”


“No, that’s enough. We’re going to wait and do this properly.”


“But Daaaaaaaaaad….!” Fuck, so bratty! She looked to Bruce for support but found none. She wished Dick was here, he would support her no matter what, but he’d been missing for several days - probably on one of his secret errands for Bruce, which they never let her in on.


She clenched her fists, furious. “So that’s it, huh? Every man in this city is smitten with some dorky Ivy-League chick, and every woman is supposed to be scared of her thighs? Is this the Gotham your generation has left us? OK BOOMERS!”


Barbara slammed the door to the hospital room on her way out.


***

It was 3am when Barbara slipped into the batcave. She’d managed to disable the alarm system using skills she’d learned from an underground hacking collective she’d busted a year back. Another thing those stupid old men don’t get, she thought uncharitably.


Even so, her breath always caught when she stepped into the batcave. The backlit waterfall, the rows of gadgets, the vehicles… he may be past his prime now, but there was no denying it, Bruce really had built something special. For me to inherit she thought, smiling, as she approached a glass locker containing her custom made batsuit.


Barely containing her excitement, she tore open the locker, then stripped to her underwear before removing the material. A skin-tight black one-piece, the main part of the suit covered her torso from her hips, all the way up to her neck in a kind of polo neck arrangement. She zipped up the matte black material at the front, briefly running her hands over the super-thin adaptive graphene-kevlar material, which she knew could harden in an instant to withstand blows and bullets. Next, she put on the Wayne Enterprises night vision goggles, and noted the internal computer booting up and linking with the suit, flashing red writing across the Head-Up Display.


BATSUIT ONLINE. ALL SYSTEMS NOMINAL.


Finally, she pulled on a pair of non-rip jet-black tights, followed by two shin-high kick-ass boots with crampon grips.


Unable to help herself, she checked herself out in the reflective pool downstream from the batcave’s waterfall, and liked what she saw. Chestnut hair with blonde highlights fell nonchalantly over the neck-covering collar of the batsuit, which looked so bad-ass it was unreal. But her favourite part was the tights-and-boots ensemble, which really showed off her long, athletic legs, which had won so many marathons and Jiu-Jitsu competitions.


I have legs too, bitch. She thought, feeling super confident as she strutted towards the vehicle bay.


***

Barbara pulled up outside the towering edifice of the GothCorp building. The ride in had been exhilarating, she’d really put her booted foot down, enjoying the sensation of power in Bruce’s black Lamborghini / Humvee crossover. It was getting old now, and had the carbon-footprint of a yeti, but wow did it still pack a punch. She’d got downtown from Wayne Manor in under twenty minutes!


She strutted up to the entrance and sauntered into the lobby. Strangely, the security desk was unmanned. Guess this little geek thinks she’s untouchable. Well, she’s about to learn the hard way. Barbara headed to the elevator and pressed the button for the twenty-sixth floor.


On leaving the elevator, she found herself facing a series of sliding glass doors. A giant orchid symbol was embossed on them, above the words IVY PHARMACEUTICALS: Nature’s Solution’s to Tomorrow’s Problems.


Your problems have arrived today,
thought Barbara as she entered the laboratory. The layout inside was bizarre. Around the sides were benches, bottles of liquid and various other laboratory paraphernalia, along with what looked like orchid vines laid out for examination. In the middle of the space, the benches had been cleared away, and what looked like canvas mats laid out on the floor. A huge array of cameras and other measuring instruments surrounded the mats. A slim, red-headed woman was facing away from Barbara, fiddling with one of the instruments with one hand while holding what looked like a fluorescent lime-green smoothie in the other.


“Hello, Pamela.” Said Barbara. The other woman turned round, and Barbara’s mouth almost dropped open in shock.


Pamela Isley was wearing her trademark lab coat (which she wore in all the adverts for Pherattract)....and not much else. The lab coat was open at the front, to reveal a slim, beach-model body. Other than the lab coat, she was wearing only what looked like a vine thong adorned with leaves, and a threadbare bra made of the same plant matter. But even more surprising was Pamela’s skin tone. Barbara remembered that the geeky girl had always had unusually pale white skin to complement her vivid red hair while at school, but now she could have sworn there was a slight green tint to it. The snakeskin suit which Selina had been babbling about before she was sedated wasn’t anywhere to be seen.


Pamela raised a perfect eyebrow, and spoke. “It’s Doctor Isley, actually, Barbara. A lot has happened since you ignored me at Gotham Academy. My PHD, for one. Your mentor paying a cat burglar to damage my property, for another.”


Barbara recovered herself and strutted into the circle of instruments, onto the canvas mats, keeping a few meters distance from the lab-coated, slightly green-skinned woman. “Well, Pamela. Despite your impeccable credentials, you seem to have never learned how to dress yourself. Don’t worry, I’m sure the nurses will be able to show you how to….at the Arkham Asylum.”


Pamela rolled her green eyes and took a swig of the strange smoothie. “You never were the brightest spark, Barbara, so I’ll spell it out for you. My lawyers are down at the district attorney’s office, as we speak. Your warrant is void. The record will state that I acted in self-defence against a known cat-burglar. But, hey, I’m glad you're here. It’s good to catch up with “old friends”, and I need a new lab rat. Or should I say…” Her green eyes flicked up and down, taking in Barbara’s attire. “Lab- Bat.”


Barbara couldn’t help herself, she let out a girlish giggle. She placed one hand on her hip and the other over her mouth, as Pamela watched on, clearly awaiting some kind of explanation. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Said Barbara, between her guffaws. “It’s just...this is too funny. You whole “supervillainess scientist” shtick, it’s just….Look, Pamela….”


Doctor Isley….”


Pamela. You say I wasn’t “the brightest spark” at school, and ok, I admit, my grades weren't all that. But while you were geeking out in the library, I was out on the track, winning races. I was in Jui Jitsu tournaments, kicking ass. Which is why, in about one minute’s time, you’re going to stop playing with your little dorky toys and follow me out of here like a good little geek. I hear Arkham has a very well stocked library, you’ll be happy there. Ok?”

As Barbara was talking to her, Pamela nonchalantly finished her bright green smoothie and set it down next to one of the instruments or cameras. “Out of curiosity…” added Barbara, her hand still cockily on her hip. “What is all this crap? And what’s that green crap you’re drinking?”


“Well, curiosity almost killed the cat…” said Pamela, placing her own hand on her labcoated hip in obvious mockery of Barbara. “But I’ll tell you. As my new Lab-Bat, you have a right to know. This….” she gestured to the equipment “Is part of Gaia, my lab computer. It’s going to track the results of the little experiment we’re about to perform.”


“What experiment?” said Barbara, but Pamela ignored her.


Gaia, start recording.” said the doctor, and the various cameras and techinical doodads buzzed to life. “And this….” Pamela pointed at the empty smoothie container. “Is my protein snake. It’s a bit like a protein shake, but it contains the snake venom I’ve been micro-dosing myself with, to give myself certain....abilities. For instance, night-vision. Gaia, light’s out!”


To Barbara, several things then seemed to happen in quick succession. First, the lights went out and the lab was plunged into darkness. Second, the HUD in her googles flashed the words NIGHT VISION ACTIVATED, and the outline of the lab appeared, in green. Except Pamela seemed to have disappeared….


Next, something clamped onto her sides, and her legs buckled. Dropping to her knees, she felt a brief sensation of pressure against her ribs before her batsuit when rigid, and the HUD flashed the words PRESSURE DETECTED - KEVLAR-GRAPHENE SHELL ACTIVATED. Finally, she heard Pamela’s voice, much closer and in front of her, say “Gaia, light’s on!”


With the lights back on, Barbara was able to assess her situation. She was on her knees in the center of the circle of cameras. Pamela was in front of her, facing her, propped up on her hands, like she was doing a reverse push-up. Her bare legs were locked around Barbara’s middle, and a quick glance over her shoulder showed that the geek’s ankles were crossed together behind her back. Barbara risked a glance down at the other woman’s thighs, and she had to admit, they were impressive. Flexed like this, they were a lot more athletic looking than they’d looked from a distance. The faint green colour was slightly disconcerting though, as was the slight rippling motion which she could see just beneath the skin, like a snake trying to break its prey. Of course, with the batsuit’s intelligent material activated, Barbara was in no immediate danger.


Pamela seemed not to to be bothered, though. “I suppose you want to ask me why you couldn’t see me in the dark, even through your night vision goggles.”


Barbara shrugged, in so much as was possible in this bizarre hold. “I suppose you want to ask me why your thigh grip isn’t having an affect on me.”


Pamela did her own micro-shrug. “Maybe. Why don’t you tell me?”


“Oh, you go first. We have all night. Or, at least until you get tired and I kick your ass.” Barbara was actually starting to enjoy this.


“Very well. The snake venom, in addition to night vision and smooth muscle enhancement, actually has made me slightly cold blooded. I therefore cannot be seen by conventional night vision apparatus, which rely on infrared heat detection. Your turn.”


“Wow, you must be very proud of yourself. As you asked so nicely - the reason your hold isn’t working is because my batsuit is made of kevlar-graph….”


Just as she was talking, a warning flashed up in Barbara’s goggles. WARNING: SUIT INTEGRITY AT 80%. That was odd.


“What were you saying?” Said Pamela, in a faux-sweet and innocent tone.


“I was saying how the fabric in this suit reacts to…” WARNING: SUIT INTEGRITY AT 50%. CONSIDER MAINTENANCE. It was also suddenly starting to get very hot inside the suit. Trying not to show any panic, Barbara’s eyes flicked down to where Pamela’s impressive thighs gripped her abdomen. The strange, almost hypnotic rippling had increased.


“Do continue…” said Pamela, mockingly. “I was finding what you were saying about kevlar-graphene technology soooooo interesting…”


WARNING: SUIT INTEGRITY AT 20%. SITUATION CRITICAL. Barbara was now starting to sweat profusely in the suit. It was becoming unbearable. “Fuck...what’s happening?”


A distinct smirk had appeared on Pamela’s usually emotionless high-cheekboned face. “Well, I’m no expert in the physics of modern body armour, my field is bio-engineering - but allow me to take an educated guess. Wayne Enterprises’ kevlar-graphene suits are designed to defend against single impact points - a punch, a bullet. I’m currently crushing you from multiple angles, applying pressure evenly across a wide area of the suit. It can’t handle it, and is trying to dispel the energy as heat, hence why you’re starting to look like you’ve been in a sauna.”


WARNING SUIT INTEGRITY AT 10%. INTEGRITY FAILURE IMMINENT. Barbara snarled in frustration, but the truth was the heat was now just too much to bear. She grabbed hold of the zipper at the top of the neck piece.


Seeing this, Pamela goaded her. “What was it you and your friends used to say to me in the library? “You need to come out of your shell…” She let out a throaty laugh.


“Shut up!” Yelled Barbara, even as she pulled the zip down and opened the suit. The fresh air on her naked breasts was a blessed relief from the heat, but of course she couldn’t get the suit all the way off as the lower part of the material was still pinned to her sides by Pamela’s thighs.


“Oh, Barbara…” continued Pamela. “You seem to never have learned to undress yourself! Don’t worry, I can teach you...now that you’re my Lab-Bat…”


“You bitc……” Barbara’s reply died in her mouth with a sound like a pair of leaky bellows deflating. SUIT INTEGRITY FAILED. GOODBYE. Barbara didn’t need the HUD in the goggles to tell her that. It was made pretty obvious by the air suddenly being forced from her lungs against her will, and the sensation that her insides were being ground to mush in an organic vice. In horror, she looked down to see Pamela’s thighs perform a titanic flex, the flacid remains of her suit draped over them like a sad deflated balloon. Without the rigid material to protect her, the doctor’s legs were free to compress her abdomen inwards, so that her ribs hung unnaturally over the top of her tormentor’s thighs. This gruesome sight, along with the indescribable pain, was enough to shock her into action. Clenching her fists, she started to hammer punches onto the tops of the pale green limbs. It was like punching tree trunks.“LET! ME! OUT!”


The punches didn’t seem to bother Pamela, who just stayed where she was, propped up on her hands, smirking in her lab coat, while her thighs rippled with crushing power. “Why? I thought you said we could stay like this ALL NIGHT….”


Realising she was getting nowhere, Barbara switched tactics. Bracing her hands on Pamela’s knees, she tried to get her feet under her. She made it up about a foot before another pulse from Pamela’s legs forced her back to her knees, this time with a wheezing cough that let air out which she couldn't replace. Staggering forward slightly, Barbara was suddenly acutely aware of the many cameras facing her, recording her humiliation - half-naked, in agony - for whatever twisted experiment the entrepreneur was doing here. As her hands slipped pathetically off of the other woman’s knees, she croaked “P-Pamela….”


Doctor Isley....” corrected Pamela.


“I...c-c-c-c-an’t…...breeeeeeathe….”


“Yes, I see that, Lab-Bat. The reason you can’t breathe is that my thighs are pushing up against your diaphragm. Your lungs are trying to get air in, but I’m preventing them from doing so. I imagine your lower ribs are also starting to buckle now too. Not bad for a library geek, eh?”


Barbara looked up to see the arrogant smirk had spread all the way across Pamela’s face. Rage swelled up within her heaving chest. Without thinking, she lunged forward, aiming her gripping hands for the other woman’s throat.


The response was instant. Pamela abandoned her reverse push up, falling back to the mats on her lab-coat covered back, allowing her to grab Barbara’s right wrist with one hand and bat away her left with the other. Barbara felt herself pulled forward by her right arm, even as the grip on her waist finally relented. Her lungs took a desperate, raspy intake of urgently needed air, but her relief was short lived. With a cool, detached look on her face, Pamela swung her legs up, looping the left one around the back of Barbara’s head. Barbara tried to sit up and pull back, but the other woman used her grip on the batgirl’s wrist to pull her in, so that her chin ended up lodged at an odd angle between her own arm and Pamela’s hip, her lips less than an inch from the material of the vine thong. Locking her other leg onto the side of Barbara’s face, Pamela cinched the hold causing Barbara to gag, and then suddenly gravity seemed to drop away as the doctor threw her weight to the side, using her new leg-grip and wrist-control to invert their positions. The result was that Barbara ended up pinned beneath the other woman in a mounted triangle. The part of her brain that wasn’t freaking the fuck out was secretly impressed - she’d used this defence in Jiu Jitsu matches herself before. It was a hell of a lot scarier from the bottom, though.


With her face compressed between Pamela's thighs, and her head resting on the back of her calf, Barbara wheezed as she tried to get some much needed air into her lungs. And she could at least breathe. That was a hell of an improvement on twenty seconds ago. Pamela, meanwhile, was looking down at her, with a clinical, slightly quizzicle gaze. It came to Barbara that the other woman wasn’t yet squeezing as hard as she could, was toying with her perhaps. Now was her only chance. She mumbled something into Pamela’s thong.


“What was that, Lab-Rat? Something you want to say?”


She twisted her head, straining her neck to get her lips off the vine like material. “I said….my turn bitch.”


Barbara then tensed her hips, and threw her black-tights-covered legs up behind the other woman. She briefly enjoyed the surprised look on the redhead’s face as her knee-length black crambon boots locked in front of her face, then she powered down, using all the strength in her athlete’s legs to pull the other woman to the floor. As a result, Barbara herself was pulled slightly upright, a little deeper into Pamela’s crotch, and from this angle she got a long view over the top of the vine-throng, past the doctor’s flat stomach, between her pert, leaf-covered breasts to where Barbera’s crossed boots obscured a view of the doctor’s face.


“Physician...heal thyself…” grunted Barbara, and prepared to squeeze, her legs tightening against the sides of Pamela’s labcoat. Unfortunately, Pamela was quicker.


The green limbs around Barbara’s head, neck and arm, which until this point had merely been acting as a controlling hold, suddenly snapped taut. The result was that Pamela’s inner thighs quickly crushed Barbara’s trapped arm against her throat, while simultaneously compressing the upper part of her neck and jaw. Behind the batgirl’s head, Pamela’s left calf joined the effort by curling inwards, forcing Barbera's poor head forward even deeper into the hold. Barbara was aware of a noise like a dying motorbike engine rattling out of her own lips, which were now mashed against Pamela’s hip. The vine material was cutting into her cheek. She had one hand free, which - on pure trapped-animal instinct - came up to try and pull on Dr Isley’s right thigh. All this meant was that Barbara could feel those freakish muscles pulsing beneath the woman’s skin. It was perhaps this, the sheer horror of it, which made her forget her own scissor attempt.


As Barbara’s legs fell open, Pamela sat back up, resuming the mounted triangle hold, only this time with her killer legs flexed. She looked entirely unphased by the brief turnaround, and instead adopted the same slightly curious, clinical look she had earlier as she looked down at her spluttering victim.


For her part, Barbara felt like she was going to die. She could feel her belly ballooning in and out like a pufferfish, trying to get air that Pamela’s thighs just would not permit. Her arm, still locked at a weird angle between thigh, face and hip, felt like it was about to break. And now, her will broke. She tried to beg for mercy, but of course she couldn’t speak, what with being throttled between Pamela’s legs and her lips mashed into her hip, so she stopped caressing the other woman’s thigh and started to frantically tap, as she’d seen so many opponents tap on the Jiu Jitsu mats. To her utter relief, Pamela released the pressure - slightly. It was still the tightest hold she’d ever experienced, but she was at least permitted a few light, jerking breaths. Panting into the other woman’s thong, she gasped. “S….S….Stop…”


“Spit it out, Lab-Rat….”


“P...Please...Pamela…”


The thighs tensed. “Doctor Isley to you, Lab-Rat…”


“Doctor Isley! Doctor Isley!” Squealed Barbara. “Please stop! I beg you!” She spluttered. “I’ll be your lab….bat…..just stop….”


Pamela seemed to consider this for a moment. Then she nodded, seeming to come to some sort of decision. “Yes, you’ll make a good Lab Bat. Now lets clip your wings.”


In an instant she uncoiled her legs from Barbara’s neck, quickly seizing both her wrists and slamming them down to the mat with authority. At the same time she shimmered her hips backwards, and coiled her legs around Barbora’s, securing her. Barbara wasn’t sure if it was just the sudden rush of oxygen returning to her lungs, but she couldn’t help but feel...something stir within her. She’d always kind of wished Dick would take control of her like this, but he never had. Somehow, this….geek goddess was arousing feelings in her she didn;t know she had. She shook her head, trying to suppress them, even as Dr Isley loomed over her, red hair dangling into her face, onto her goggles. She was brought abruptly to her senses by a slight pain in her thighs as Pamela coiled her own bare legs against Barbara’s tights.


“You still with me down there?” Asked Pamela.


“Y...yes….” Squeaked Barbara.


“Good. Because I want you to fight back.”


“W...what?”


“This is my grapevine incapacitator - and it's the first time I’ve tested it. So I want you to resist.”


Barbara started sobbing. “I can’t….Pam...Doctor Isley. You’re just too strong. You win. Please, just let me go back to my father, to Bruce and Dick and….”


“Shush, Lab-Bat, shush. This is important, for science! You want to be a good Lab-Bat for me, don’t you?”

“Yes…..anything….”


“Then resist. I’m going to open your legs with mine. I want you to try and stop me. You were an athlete at Gotham Academy, right? You won all those medals….you were saying yourself earlier how much time you’d spent on the track, how many Jiu Jitsu matches you won. You must have pretty strong legs, right?”


“Y...yes….”


“Then resist. Come on. Make me stop.” And with that, Pamela started to slowly open her legs, dragging Barbara’s with her. Despite herself, Barbara got a second wind. So this geek wanted to pit her legs against hers? Fine. Maybe, just maybe, she’d finally bitten off more than she could chew….


“You asked for this…” Snarled Barbara.


“Yes I did.” Said Pamela. “Resist.” And so she did.


To be fair to Barbara, she really did try. She powered all the effort she could into her thighs. Pamela not only held position, but actually wrenched them open another inch.


“Are you resisting?”


“YES!” Yelled Barbara, and again tried to close her legs. She thought of all the Jiu Jitsu matches she’d won using them. All the times Dick had told her not to squeeze so hard when they were making love. Instead, her legs were forced open another inch. A sharp pain started to work its way up her thighs.


“Lab-Bat, you really need to start resisting here. This is too easy.” Chastised the doctor.


“I’M TRYING!” Barbara summoned all her remaining strength. She thought of all the humiliation today had brought, how this genius level geek had humbled her with her legs. In pure rage, she bellowed and tried to clamp her legs shut, imagining that the redhead above her was between them.


Nothing. Well, not nothing. Sharp, shooting pain as her legs began to shudder uncontrollably, as Pamela opened them another few inches with her thighs. Barbara couldn't do it. If she resisted anymore, she’d sprain something. She broke down again.


“I...I give up…”


“Oh come on…”


“I can’t do it, Dr Isley….” The pain suddenly grew worse as Pamela opened up another few inches. It felt like her legs were going to break.


“DR ISLEY! PLEASE STOP! I SUBMIT! I SUBMIT OK? I’M YOUR LAB-BAT! i’M YOUR LAB BAT! I’M YOUR….”


The pressure relented. Normal feeling rushed back into Barbara’s legs and she sobbed. “Thank you….thank you Dr Isley…I’ll be a good Lab-Bat, I promise...”


“I know…” sighed Pamela, sounding disappointed. Her green eyes narrowed. “But we still need to clip your wings.”


And with that, she jammed her legs open to right angles, and beyond, like a wine bottle opener popping a bottle. And, by extension,Barbara’s legs. Barbara heard a faint double-pop, like two corked bottles being popped at the same time. Then the pain bubbled up from her hips like a terrible wave.


She screamed.


In fact, the pain was so bad, and her screaming so loud, that she barely noticed Pamela had untangled her own amazing legs from Barbara’s ruined ones, and had stood up.


The contrast between the two women now couldn't be starker. Dr Pamela Isley stood, hands on hips, still in her lab coat, beaming like a scientist who had just completed a successful experiment. Barbara lay writhing on the floor, screaming in agony, clutching at her ruined thighs and sobbing.


“WHYYYYYYYYYYYY? WHHHYYYYYYY?” She wept, uncontrollably.


Pamela shrugged. “Well, for all the times you ignored me at school….just kidding, I’m not some vindictive supervillainess, despite what you may think. I did it in the name of science. And of Earth. My research will change the world for the better. I am going to train an army of environmental soldiers in these venom-assisted techniques, and we’re going to save the world. And planet killing machines like that thing you drove in will be a thing of the past…”


She knelt down next to Barbara. “Now, Lab-Bat, I need you to listen to me…”


But Barbara had had enough. She couldn’t live like this. Not with her legs ruined. How would Dick ever love her, would anyone ever respect her…


“Just...kill….me….”


Pamela sighed. “Well, technically we are supposed to euthanize our Lab-Bats, it's ethical, but I’ve always been against cruelty to animals. So no, I’m not going to kill you.”


Barbara sobbed even harder. “Please….”


“Will you shut up? I’m trying to explain something. Here…” She stood up, then leaned down over Barbara, hooking one of her gorgeous green legs round the other woman’s neck, so that it was pinched between her calf and her thigh. Barbara quickly realised it wasn’t a kill hold, just tight enough to shut her up and steady her breathing. She panted, drooling on the other woman’s leg as she gently applied pressure.


“That’s better. Now listen. You have two choices. I can return you to your father and Bruce like this, and you can live out the rest of your life as a cripple. Or...you can drink the venom. The protein snake. You will develop new muscles, and your legs will recover. In time, they may even be stronger than they were before. But make no mistake, you will work for me. You will be my Lab-Bat, at my beck and call, one of my foot soldiers in the war to come. So. What will it be?”


She let off a little of the calf-pressure. Barbara spluttered.


“I….I…..”


***


“You’re damn right this is highly irregular!”


Dr Harleen Quinzel, Neurologist, sat behind the desk of her office at Gotham General Hospital. Commissioner Gorden, Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson stood opposite, looking grave.


“Please…” said the Commissioner. “It’s our only option. She - Barbara - has been missing for four days now. We believe she’s been captured by Dr Pamela Isley....”


Harleen laughed. “Really? I remember Pamela from med school. Quiet, bookish, very intelligent. I’ve followed her work with interest...but a kidnapper? Please…”


“Harleen…” Bruce slammed his hand onto the desk, making her jump. “Apologies. It’s been a hard week for all of us. But we don’t know what else to do…..”


Dick Greyson - who Harleen understood was Bruce’s PA and Barbara’s boyfriend, and who looked to her like an overgrown boy scout - continued. “Dr Quinzel, none of us - me, Bruce, the Commissioner - can get within forty feet of Pamel….Dr Isley without succumbing to her Pherattract charms. We also can’t get the arrest warrant to stick - her lawyer’s have seen to that, in fact, we may be sued ourselves for paying a known criminal to trespass on her property. Were begging you…”


“Alright, alright....” Harleen waved him quiet. She’d been in Gotham ten years now since she moved from New York, and people round here didn’t half talk a lot. “So let me get this straight - you want me to reach out to Dr Isley - medical colleague to medical colleague and...persuade her to give up the location of Barbara Gorden? Is that it?”


“That’s pretty much the size of it…” Said the Commissioner.


“Fine. I’ll do it. But in return, I want some day release permits for one of my Arkham patients. We got a lot of people in there, with mental health issues, who really need less stick and more carrot….”


Bruce scowled, but the Commissioner said “Yes, anything…”


“...and make sure you take precautions” said the boy scout Dick. “Be careful around her, Harleen.”


Harleen smirked at that. “Oh I will…” she said, and took a swig of smoothie from a shaker on her desk.


“That’s an interesting coloured protein shake…” said Bruce.


“Isn’t it just.” said Dr Quinzel.


TO BE CONTINUED….
 

trainglec

Potential Patron
Part 3: The Quintessensual Subjugation of One Doctor Harleen (Or the Art of Never Giving Up)

Dr Harleen Francis Quinzel, Neurologist, MD pulled up outside the hipster cafe. It said something about the level of wealth in Gotham’s Diamond District that her purple Vaydor wasn’t the fanciest car in the street. The Brooklyn noise-punk blaring from the speakers turned a few heads though. A few more turned when she got out. She’d swapped her medical scrubs for a pair of tight, ripped denim shorts and a white tank top, her blonde hair tied into two girlish ponytails. When at work, she took a secret thrill in knowing her provocative leg tattoos - the black hearts and jesters and bubble-gum-blowing nymphs - were hidden beneath her scrub trousers. Now they were proudly on display, vivid against her milky pale thigh skin in the midday light. She ignored the solitary wolf-whistle from a builder on the building opposite and strutted to the outside seating area of the cafe.


It took her a minute to identify Pamela Isley. The young biotech entrepreneur was hunched inconspicuously at the back, under a GOTHAM CITY IPA table umbrella, nursing what looked like a bright green herbal tea of some sort. In contrast to Harleen’s come at me provocative attire, Pamela was wearing a green hooded shawl, long white gloves, and dark aviator glasses. In fact, she was only really identifiable by a stray lock of red hair which had fallen in front of her face. It’s almost like she’s trying to hide her skin, thought Harleen as she sat down in the spare seat opposite her. And I can guess why...


“Pamela! It’s been a crazy long time since med school….”


“Indeed…” said the other woman, who pointedly did not get up to greet her, instead simply adding some sort of powder to her green tea, then raising the cup to her thin lips in the English style popular with Gotham’s wealthy. Harleen noticed an organic tote bag with Ivy Pharmaceuticals printed on it by the other woman's sandaled feet.


“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me. I’ve been quite the fan of your work over the last…”


“Harleen, let’s cut the crap.” Interrupted Pamela. “I know you’ve been sent by them.


Shiiiiiit. “Who’s that, puddin?”


Pamela counted off on her gloved hands. “My competitor, Bruce Wayne, for one. I know that old money family has been trying to move into pharmaceuticals for years, and sees casting me as some sort of villainess as their chance. That obstructive Commissioner, who sees corruption where there is only natural purity. That boy scout Dick Grayson, who sees himself as an American Eagle but is really more of an irritating sparrow. That criminal Selina Kyle, who broke into my warehouse and damaged my orchids.” Cats out the bag, then thought Harleen. “They think I know something about the disappearance of Barbara Gorden, don’t they?” continued Pamela. Something about Pamela’s posh, Gotham Academy accent really irritated Harleen, but she kept her cool.


“Well, do you puddin? Because you know you can tell me, what with us being such good old medical colleagues and all…”


“Don’t call me “puddin”, I’m a doctor and scientist. As for Barbara, maybe she got tired of that gang’s moralising, their obsession with punching the poor while while the planet dies. Maybe she’s found a better calling.”


Harleen cackled. “You’re a clever girl, Pamela. We were all in awe of you at med school. But your rich, liberal-elite saving the planet act won’t wash with me. I actually grew up poor in Brooklyn, and while we detest the likes of Bruce Wayne and his wealth, at least he’s honest about what he is. You act like your libertarian antics - Pherractract and the like - are about women’s rights or saving the environment, but even you can’t just act with impunity. We’re seeing a twenty percent rise in admissions at Arkham Asylum due to the side effects of your love-pills. Assaults on women are up. Fights between men over women too. You need to accept some responsibility, honey. And then there’s that whole business with Selina Kyle. So the old cat broke into your greenhouse, but what you did to her...and now Barbara…”


Harleen trailed off as she noticed the arrogant smirk of Pamela’s face had only grown as she’d been speaking. “Is something funny? Cos’ even I’m not laughin...” said Harleen, feeling the blood rush to her face.


“Oh, its just you sound just like them, moralising over my actions. But I know about you, Dr Quinzel. I wonder what the Gotham County medical board would do if they knew you were having a relationship with one of your patients....”


Harleens mouth dropped open. Closed. Opened again. Damn.


“Yes, that’s right.” continued Pamela. “I know. And if you don’t call off your little investigation into my affairs, everyone will know about yours. Give up your pursuit of the bat-girl. Tell the Commissioner she’s gone on a gap year or something. Have a good day, Harleen.” and with that she stood up to walk away. As she did, Harleen reached out and grabbed her gloved hand, and looked up straight into those vivid green eyes.


“One thing you should know about me, puddin. I never give up.”


Pamela rolled her eyes at this, pulled her hand away, and walked off into the wealthy beatnik crowd swanning their way up and down the Diamond District street. Harleen watched her go. Underneath the feet-length shawl, she could just make out athletic legs and a toned ass. Sassy bitch, thought Harleen. But while Pamela had been issuing her theat, Harleen had managed to steal her diary from the tote bag. Her days on the streets of Brooklyn still came in handy occasionally! Let’s see where you’re going, she thought to herself.


***


The truth was, Dr Quinzel hadn’t been lying when she’d said to Dr Isley that she’s been a fan of her work. When she’d first seen the x-ray of Selina Kyle’s fractured skull, Dr Quinzel had begun doing some research. She’d found that Ivy Pharmaceuticals had applied for a patent on a specific type of snake venom to be used as a muscle enhancement. From there, it hadn’t been too hard to order in a batch through a black market supplier. She’d been microdosing herself for some time before Bruce had approached her with the proposition. Now, it was time to test the results.


That evening, Harleen sat in the bath at her apartment, watching as the soapy water drained away. She looked down at her skin, looking for tell tale signs of the slight green tint that the snake venom would bring.

As the last of the water glugged into the plugole, Harleen looked down at her bare, tatooed legs. She’s always had long, thin, attractive legs - dancers legs really. But now, there was definitely a green tint to them, and what looked like an extra layer of muscle underneath. Two can play at this game, Dr Isley thought Harleen as she reached over the side of the bath, and picked up a watermelon. Placing it between her thighs, she applied just a bit of pressure….and it exploded.


“Whooo!” She laughed girlishly to herself as fruity pulp sprayed over her naked chest. Impressive. But she needed something more….realistic. She reached back over the side of the tub and picked up a human skull. He had given it to her as a gift at the Asylum. It seemed a shame to break it, but she had to know…


“Sorry, honey…” She said to the skull as she positioned it between her legs. The hollow sockets stared back at her. She tensed, bracing her newly augmented thighs against the sides of the skull. Something creaked alarmingly inside it. Harleen gripped the sides of the bath, and squeezed.


There was an alarmingly loud CRACK as the bone buckled under the pressure. The jaw slid out of line, and two cracks spread like lightning bolts down the top of it. Laughing, Harleen leant back in the bath, feeling almost orgasmic as she applied yet more pressure. This was power. She looked down, and was pleased to see a rippling underneath her skin as her legs powered down. The tattoo of a jester on her right thigh seemed to wink cheekily as her legs trembled with new power. There was another crack, then another, then a POP as the skull imploded under the sheer pressure. Fragments went flying round the room.


Harleen exhaled, then reached over the bath once more, producing Dr Isley’s diary. Circled on today’s page was Gotham Dockyards’s, Quay 4, 10pm. She grinned as she got out of the tub. I’m coming for you, Pamela.


Moving into the bedroom, she opened her wardrobe. If she was going to break into the docks, she’d need to look like a street thug in case any cameras caught her. She knew Pamela’s lawyers would be down her throat about this and her illicit relationship if she got caught. She also needed to disguise the green tint on her skin. Grabbing a makeup brush, she smothered herself in white foundation powder. Next, she pulled on a pair of fishnet tights to cover her long, newly strengthened legs. Finally, she put on a tiny leather mini skirt and tight Brookyn punk rock t-shirt. A pair of high heeled boots topped off the ensemble. She removed a baseball bat from the utility room and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like one of the Brooklyn street punks from her youth.


Perfect she thought, as she grabbed the keys to the Vaydor and headed out into the night.


***


Harleen arrived at Quay 4 and killed the engine. The wharf was identical to the many others lining the docks at Gotham’s river port, although no ship appeared to be docked there - just a few shipping containers, piles of crates marked “Ivy Pharmaceuticals” and a lone loading crane. The night was cold, but she felt pumped as she strutted towards the waterfront, baseball bat slung over one shoulder. She hadn’t felt this alive since her days on the streets of Brooklyn.


The lights of Gotham sparkled on the opposite bank. A feminine figure stood silhouetted against the cityscape, facing the water. Harleen walked down a row of crates, dragging the metal tip of her baseball bat along them as she did so. As she reached the end of the row, the figure turned round.


Pamela Isley was wearing a skintight green wetsuit. Her damp red hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wasn’t wearing any shoes. Harleen quickly realised what was happening. The biotech entrepreneur was planning to dump all these crates in the river using the crane, which would cause chaos in Gotham and the surrounding counties.


“Nice night for a swim.” Said Harleen, as she lightly slapped the baseball bat into her left palm.


“Hello again, Dr Quinzel.”


“Hello yourself, Dr Isley.”


“I guess you don’t think I carry out my threats. I’m going to tell the whole city about your illicit relationship with your patient, even as they become addicted to their own lust.”


Harleen grinned. “Well in that case, I’ll just have to make sure you don’t walk out of here alive.”


Pamela rolled her eyes. “A threat. How amusing. Do you know how many cocky, wannabe heroines I’ve had to deal with this week? I’m a very busy woman. You seem to think you can just waste my time. Give it up, last warning.”


“Oh, I’m not wasting time. I’ll get straight to the point.” Harleen tapped the top of her bat. “You're going to tell me where Barbara Gorden is. And then you’re going to die. And I told you before, puddin, I never give up.”


With that Harleen started to close the distance between them. Pamela looked unphased, and reached into a crate next to her, removing something. Harleen’s eyes widened when she realised what it was - Selina Kyle’s powerwhip! Dr Isley must have taken it when she crushed the cat burglar in the greenhouse. No sooner had she thought this, Pamela flicked a switch on the side of the device and the the whip extended, wrapping itself around the top of Harleen’s bat. With a jerk of her wrist, Pamela pulled the bat out of Harleens hand and hurled it along the dock, sparks flying from where it skimmed the concrete. This done, she threw the whip to the ground, like it disgusted her.


Harleen just shrugged, and assumed a kickboxing stance. “Ok, we do this the old fashioned way. Fight me.” She beckoned the wetsuited woman, who assumed a quiet, confident smile.


“Gladly.”


Harleen’s bet was that the Academy educated Pamela Isley wouldn’t be able to fight like a Brooklyn raised girl. Sure enough, Pamela stepped forward and twisted her petite hips, easily telegraphing a high roundhouse kick. The force behind the thing was impressive, and Harleen was pretty sure it could have taken her head off….if it had connected. But Harleen knew that while roundhouses look impressive they come at the expense of balance. She dropped to the floor as the kick went sailing over her head, and broad her own fishnetted leg around in a sweep kick, intending to take out Pamela's other foot. Harleen got a shock though - Pamela’s planted leg didn’t budge an inch. It was like kicking a tree trunk! Switching tactics, Harleen lurched forward before Pamela’s gorgeous roundhouse could get back down, and football tackled the other woman, securing her in a cross body pin. “Down girl.” Said Harleen, deadpan.


For her part, Pamela grit her teeth and tried to throw her legs up, the green limbs snapping like an angry alligator trying to crush it’s prey, but Harleen was two far up her body. “No you don’t…” she said, but the resultant bucking motion did unseat her slightly, and suddenly the two doctors were a tangle of limbs as they went rolling onto their sides. Harleen had been raised as a scrappy brawler without many limits, and went to rake Pamela’s green eyes with her blue painted nails, but the rich brat managed to grab her wrists and powered on top of her, pinning her to the oily quayside, while her legs tangled with Harleen’s own.

“Nice effort.” Said Dr Isley. “But I think it’s time to clip your wings. Welcome to my grapevine…..


“Try it!” Snarled Harleen, and sure enough Pamela jerked her thighs outwards, trying to wrench Harleen’s legs aggressively open as she had done to break the bat girl last week. Except this time, nothing happened. Harleen watched the realisation spread across the other woman’s face.

“What’s the matter, Pammy-Puddin? Is it not working?” She said, while resisting with her own augmented legs. The squeaky sound of wetsuit grinding against fishnet echoed over the waterfront as four thighs battled for dominance. Feeling the strain even though she was managing to resist, Harleen decided to use Pamela’s momentary surprise to strike. While the other woman was still desperately trying to force her legs apart, the scrappy Brooklun brawler jerked her head forward, and headbutted Dr Isley right on her freckled nose.


Pamela’s head jerked back with a satisfying crunch, and the incredible strain on Harleen’s legs slackened. Not wasting a second, she flipped Pamela over, untangling their legs and scooting up onto her wetsuited chest. Pamela bucked lightly, but this only put Harleen where she wanted to be: perched right up on the other woman’s breastbone, her legs pinning her arms, looking down into the freckled, bloodied nose of the other woman staring up from between her thighs.


“Treat me like a game and I’ll show you how it’s played.” She smirked, taking a moment to cheekily flick Pamela’s forehead with her finger. Then she compressed her thighs inwards, mashing her fishnets against the other woman’s cheeks. The green eyes went wide, but still had that look of clinical amusement. We’ll soon squeeze that out of you thought Harleen as she reached down and grabbed a handful of red hair, and started to pull the younger woman’s head up into her crotch. While doing this, a movement caught her eye and she looked up to see….


“Barbara Gordon??” Harleen had been enjoying kicking Pamela’s ass so much that she had almost forgotten the entire reason for this little escapade. Now, the Commissioner's daughter was sitting right in front of her in a wheelchair. She looked tired, and a little afraid with no make up, and was wearing what looked like a white lab coat with the Ivy Pharmaceuticals orchid logo on the breast. She was also holding Harleen’s baseball bat. Harleen barely got her hands up in time as the other woman swung it at her head from her seat in the wheelchair. “Hey!” She yelped, managing to block the shot but toppling off of Pamela as she did so, losing her grip on the entrepreneur’s head. It was all the opportunity Pamela needed.


As she fell to her side, Harleen watched as the other woman scrabbled out from her legs, and then quick as a flash, grabbed her foot and wrenched it between her wetsuited thighs for a leg bar. Harleen quickly flexed her muscles to resist. “You think that will work? I’ve taken your venom!”, but Pamela’s attention was on Barbara now. “Quick, Lab-Bat! The antidote!” Before Harleen knew what was happening, the crippled Barbara had thrown what looked like an epipen to Dr Isley. Harleen tried to pull her leg free, but Pamela flexed her own thighs, holding her leg in place in a neoprene rubber grip, and then plunged the epipen into Harleen’s fishnets just above the knee.


“Nooooo!” Screamed the Brooklyn girl as she felt a numbness spread up her leg, even as Pamela transitioned to leglock her other leg and did the same.


“Down girl.” Smirked Dr Isley, even as Harleen tried to scramble to her numb legs only to collapse back down onto the hard dockside on her back.


“Fuck you Pamela! That’s cheating!”


“No, stealing MY thigh venom is cheating. Lab-Bat, grab her other leg - we’ll take her to the container!” As she said this Pamela grabbed one of Harleen’s now dead fishnetted legs, while Barbara grabbed the other and hauled it onto her lap while working the wheelchair with her other hand. Together they dragged Harleen towards the open mouth of a shipping container. She screamed the whole way and tried to grip the floor with her nails, but got nowhere.


Once inside, Barbara shut the door. Two white halogen bulbs gave the interior an ethereal glow. Harleen noticed that there was a pile of odd looking equipment in one corner, and that canvas mats of some sort had been laid out across the floor.


Pamela then started to strip. Slowly, she undid the zip at the front of her wetsuit, and emerged from it like a butterfly from a cocoon. Harleen’s mouth dropped open and she actually stopped struggling for a second. There was no denying it, the petite geek had one hot body. Like, beach-ready, athletic hot. Underneath the wetsuit, she was wearing a neat green strapless bikini adorned with a leaf design. For the first time in forever, Harleen actually felt a little jealous. Pamela seemed oblivious to her staring, as she started to pick up one of the odd bits of equipment from the corners of the room. One was a necklace with a jewel of some sort on the front and back. Another was a sort of broach with clipped onto the back of her bikini bottoms.


“W-what are those?” Said Harleen from where she had been dumped on the floor.


“These?” Said Pamela. “These are cameras.” With that she started to put on what looked like a pair of steampunk high heels, lacing holding straps around her perfect calves. Harleen managed a nervous laugh.


“Are you going to lapdance me to death?”


“No such luck for you.” Said Harleen. “There are cameras in these heels too. You see, I haven’t had the opportunity to test the Venus Thigh-Trap as an interrogation tool yet, at least not against a formidable opponent.” She turned to Barbara, who hung her head in shame. “No offence, Lab-Bat.” Turning back to Harleen,she said: “These augmented bodycams will capture in realtime the moment when you break.”


Harleen stuck her chin up and tried to look defiant. “As I said before, Puddin. I never give up.”


“Oh I’m counting on it.” And with that, Pamela stepped over to Harleen, turned around, and slowly squatted over her chest. As she did so, she appeared to Harleen like a green, dominatrix goddess in the low halogen light of the shipping container. Harleen’s arms were free, so she attempted to send a double kidney punch to Pamela’s back, but she was too slow. The other woman had already placed her hands on Harleen’s parylysed knees, and now kicked her legs backwards. Harleen’s fists ended up hitting Pamela’s thighs, and it was like punching a brick wall. She cried out as her wrists bent from the impact and her knuckles just bounced off Dr Isley’s ass cheeks. The fronts of the other woman's thighs forced her shoulders down, then Pamela neatly hooked her heeled left calf behind Harleen’s head, encircling it in her legs in a perfect reverse sankaku-jime.


“Y-you won’t get away with this….” Blurted Harleen as the world became a knot of green limbs. “When I get out of this, I’ll….I’ll…” She stopped when she saw the redhead had turned round to face her, and the green eyes looked predatory.


“Harleen. Shut the fuck up.”


And with that, Dr Pamela Isley slammed her legs shut.


Dr Harleen Quinzel’s medical knowledge meant that she knew what was happening. At Pamela’s command, the redheads’ adductor muscles had ballooned up and formed a deathly tight seal around Harleen’s neck. At the same time, Pamela’s calf curled inwards, forcing Harleen forward so that her face was pressed against the bikini material of her nemesis’ ass. Just inches from her eyes, the lens of the broach-camera stared back at Harleen from the cleft of her bikini, recording Harleen’s humiliation. And it must have looked quite something, as Barbara Gorden was looking on in horror.


“Doctor….Doctor Isley…”


“What is it, Lab-Bat?” Pamela wasn’t even looking at Harleen anymore, in fact, she appeared to be nonchalantly ignoring her. This enraged Harleen, but any attempt to speak just seemed to result in a sort of hoarse clicking from her adductor-captured throat. Instead, Barbara seemed to be trying to mediate on her behalf. The bat-girl, of all people!


“It’s just….she looks...you’re going to kill her, Doctor! I thought you said it was an interrogation...but her eyes are coming out of her head, and…”


“Lab-Bat. How about I manage the thigh trap, and you just watch and take notes? Unless you want to take her place….”

“No….no! I didn’t mean that...you carry on….”


Meanwhile, Harleen was drowning in thigh. While the other two women talked, she’s been desperately trying to get her painted nails into the thigh skin clenching the sides of her neck, trying to get any sort of relief from the relentless pressure. But the more she tried to dig in, the more Pamela’s thighs and ass seemed to develop a sort of green rippling beneath the surface, like some sort of deep sea creature reacting to provocation by tightening around its prey. The effect was both mesmerising and chilling, and worse, Pamela seemed to be ignoring her completely now. It was like she had just forgotten that Harleen was trapped in her legs, suffocating! In fact, Barbara had brought her an i-Pad and Pamela was now doing some sort of accounting work on it on the floor. Harleen realised she had to get the entrepreneur’s attention, or she would just die of neglect in her thighs. Reaching forward like a drowning woman, she raked her nails down Pamela’s back, beyond where the snake muscles had developed. Five neat lines of blood appeared where her claws dug in. So you do bleed! Thought Harleen. Maybe I can kill you…


The effect was instantaneous. Pamela’s head shot around 180 degrees, like she was possessed. She still had a faint pattern on her cheeks where Harleen’s fishnets had gripped her earlier, and the effect made her seem more snakelike than ever. “What on Mother Earth made you think that was a good idea?”


Everything then seemed to happen very quickly to Harleen. Pamela unlocked the sankuku-jime, and Harleen’s body spasmed as the shock of air rushing into her lungs caused her to splutter in a very unhealthy sounding coughing fit. Pamela had returned to the squatting position she had had at the start, and then like some sort of kinky frog she bounced backwards on her heels, landing on her perfect ass just behind Harleen’s head, her amazing legs kicked out in front of her. Without ceremony, the redhead brought her right calf inwards, locking it like a steel bar on a fairground ride across Harleen’s throat. She jerked in panic, and in response Pamela twisted her legs slightly, cinching the sides of Harleen’s skull with her thighs while forcing her calf still further inwards at an angle. The result was the side of her shinbone was now cutting into Harleen’s left carotid artery, and the world swam even as her body jerked in hypoxic distress.


Leaning back onto her palms, and flexing this torturous figure-four, Pamela began to lecture Barbara Gorden matter-of-factly, once again ignoring Harleen completely. “The thing is, the captive here thought that I only had the option of knocking her out if she refused to submit. But the poor thing doesn’t really have much imagination.”


A harrowing squeal that sounded like a fox having its throat cut came from someone's mouth. Harleen thought it might be her own, but Pamela just ignored this and carried on her monologue.


“Right now, I’ve got my calf locked onto Dr Quinzels left carotid artery. By flexing my soleus muscle, I am easily cutting off the blood to that side of her brain. But you’ll note I’ve left the other carotid more or less open, while applying crushing pressure to the sides of her skull with my thighs. The result is that blood is probably pooling in her neck and brain. It must feel like she’s about to have a stroke. I bet she’s wondering how he, that clown patient she’s dating, will still love her if I leave her disabled after this….”


As she said this the sense of fear and panic rose in Harleen’s chest even as her head seemed to fill with red liquid and her vision swam. The sides of her skull creaked alarmingly and she suddenly remembered the way that skull had shattered in the bath. Through the swirling halogen light of the container she could just make out Barbara Gorden in her wheelchair, looking horrified. Desperately, Harleen reached one shaking hand out over the leg prison and gasped, her voice coming out like a deflating balloon. “Pleeeeeeese….Help….Me…”


When Barbara spoke back, she was in tears. “Please, just do as she says. Just submit. It's just easier that way, for everyone…”


As if to accentuate the point, Pamela suddenly thrust her hips upwards, and jerked Harleen’s head in her thighs. Harleen squealed like a stuck pig, her hands frantically pawing at the constricting limbs for purchase. She was utterly convinced she was about to either stroke out or die, but before she could tap or beg, Pamela suddenly unlocked the hold. Harleen’s head fell back against the canvas mats on the floor of the container, and the sudden rush of fresh blood to her brain was almost orgasmic. She shuddered on the floor, her whole body feeling like it was on fire as oxygen rushed to her tissues. The feeling of relief came crashing back to Earth when she saw that Pamela was standing over her, looking down at her like she was some sort of interesting specimen. From this angle, the Ivy Pharmaceuticals CEO looked like a goddess. And lo, the goddess reached down and in a mocking repeat of what Harleen had done earlier, flicked the Brooklyn girl in the middle of her forehead.


“W...what...are...you….”


“I presume you know what trephining is, Dr Quinzel?” Interrupted Pamela.


“I….I…..”


“As a doctor at Arkham Asylum, I’m sure you’re aware of the history of mental health treatments. As a treatment for crazyness, medics used to bore holes into the foreheads of patients. It was much more natural than modern treatments. And you are, by your own admission, a little crazy. Shall we do a little experiment to prove my point?” And without waiting for Harleen to answer, Pamela stood up, and placed the camera-pointed tip of her high heel in the middle of Harleen’s forehead.

“Wait….n...n….no…..” Spluttered Harleen, even as she gazed up in wonder. From this angle she could see all the way up Dr Isley’s leg, past the beautiful sculpted calf, towards the smooth muscle of her killer thigh. She watched, entranced as the whole limb rippled with power, a wave of muscular energy which started at the top of her thigh, shot down through her calf and into her petite foot, reaching its apex in the tip of the high heel that now pressed downwards, cutting through the foundation-smothered skin of Harleen’s forehead, to dig into her skull with ever increasing pressure. She screamed, and the sound rebounded off the insides of the shipping container. Her hands shot up and grabbed the piercing implement.


“Probably not a good idea, Harleen. If my heel slips it will end up going through your eye, and what will the clown think of you then? He’s already going to be having second thoughts when he meets your mute, half-brain dead form once I’ve scooped out half your brain with my heel.” She tossed her head back and laughed.


From the corner, Barbara squealed “Oh, please, leave her alone….”


“Maybe you’ll enjoy it.” Continued Pamela. “Maybe you and him can finally be together, both as patients!” Pamela leaned forward onto her knee, flexing her thigh like she was warming up for a jog, and the heel cut deeper into Harleen’s skull. Blood started to pour down the sides of her head into her hair.


“When I was backpacking across Southeast Asian rainforests- building up these thighs - they used to say that in the centre of the forehead you had a “Third Eye”....I wonder if you’ll find this experience enlightening…..” “STOP!” Screamed Harleen. She could feel the tip of Pamela heel cutting through into her brain, she swore she could, and she couldn’t take anymore. “STOP! I GIVE UP! PLEASE PAMELA, I GIIIVE UP!”


The pressure didn’t relent one bit. “That’s nice, Harleen, but I can’t accept your submission. As you said yourself, you never give up, so I must continue to….”


“No….” Tears began to stream down Harleen’s face, mixing with the blood. “I’ll be good….I will give up...I…”


“You will give up or you have given up? Do they not teach tenses in Brooklyn?”


“I’M SORRY! PLEASE PAMELA, PLEASE DON’T!”


Pamela rolled her eyes, then retracted her foot from Harleen’s forehead. A light sticky pop could be heard as the heel withdrew.


“T….thank you….w...w.wait!” Any relief Harleen might have felt at the trephining being aborted was short lived. Pamela had now dropped back into a front-facing squat on Harleen's chest, and now kicked her legs out in front of her, while grabbing onto Harleen’s ponytails like she was riding a bike, and dragging the other woman’s face up into her thighs. A loud CLICK echoed round the container as Harleen heard the camera-heels locking together behind her head. Her tormentor wasted no time, slamming her thighs together ruthlessly and jerking up her hips so that Harleen’s head was suspended in the air, crushed under the pressure of the rippling snake muscle. As a silent scream from Harleen’s mouth started to drool into the entrepreneur’s leaf-bikini crotch, Pamela leant back on Harleen’s dead legs and smirked.


“What, no cocky comment?” She said as her glutes mashed inwards, compressing Harleen’s head, neck and jaw in a relentless squeeze. “No “You won’t walk out of here alive?” No “I’ll show you how the game is played?” Where’s your famous mouth now, Harleen?” Pamela’s face had now assumed a frightening looking sneer, the look of the arrogant scientist drunk on power.


“P….pl…..” managed Harleen.


“Please what, Harleen? You said you never give up, so I’m taking you at your word! So I guess what you mean is “Please squeeze harder, Dr Isley.” Is that it? Is that what you're trying to say?”


From her chair in the corner, Barbara tried once again to intercede. “Pam...Dr Isley, please be careful… With me and Selina, it was justifiable self-defence but this is….my father would say this is unreasonable force….”

“QUIET!” snapped Pamela. Something seemed to be changing about her demeanor. Her eyes had gone white, her muscles were rippling hungrily. She appeared to Harleen less like the clinical scientist and more like some terrifyingly primal snake goddess, and Harleen was the sacrifice. Once more Harleen tried to plead for her life from between Pamela’s deadly thighs. “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese……..”


“Oh shut up. You had your chance, Harleen. You know what you look like now? A fucking clown. You’re makeup is running, your eyes are bulging - all three of them! Now shut up and die.”


And with that, Pamela tilted her head back orgasmiscally. The thighs rippled with green death. Harleen’s body shook uncontrollably as her hands pawed at the constricting limbs in one last, desperate attempt at freedom….


Pamela’s hips violently twisted to the side. There was an audible SNAP.


From the corner of the container, Barbara screamed.


Harleen found herself looking down from the top of the container as Pamela Isley writhed on the floor in the ecstasy of the kill, Harleen’s body twitching between her legs. She found herself being dragged upwards, towards a bright light in the Gotham night sky.


Hold on Joker baby…..I’ll see you soon…..


***


“I won’t sanction it.”


Bruce Wayne had that stubborn air of finality about him that sometimes drove Commissioner Gorden mad. They were standing in the Batcave, next to the empty case where Barbara’s graphene-Kevlar Batsuit had once been stored. It now looked hauntingly empty. The waterfall in the cave had been switched off, because of the current risk of contamination.


“It’s been three days since Dr Quinzil’s body was found by the docks.” said Gorden, gently. “Two days since reports of lust-crazed men started springing up all over the city, since someone dumped several tons of Pherratract into the river.”


Lawyers representing Ivy Pharmaceuticals were claiming that a crazed Dr Harzeen Quinzel had broken into their dockyard facility, dumped the Pherattract into the river in an envious rage (brought on by a paranoid suspicion that her Arkham Asylum lover was obsessed with Pamela Isley), and then killed herself. By snapping her own neck? Thought the Commissioner, incredulously. “The situation is out of control, Bruce. Washington are threatening to send an all-female National Guard team, but I think we should consider our other option.


“Something of a nuclear option…” growled Bruce.


“We need to contact the United Nations in Metropolis, and request assistance from Diana Prince.”


Bruce turned away. Commissioner Gorden could tell the ageing caped crusader was torn. He obviously felt guilty about what had happened to Selina, to Barbara, and now possibly to Dr Quinzel. But the Bat had an innate mistrust of the heroes and heroines of Metropolis, the globalist city. He saw his own crime solving antics in Gotham as a patriotic brutal necessity, but the often city-destroying antics of the likes of Clark Kent and Diana Prince as a step too far.


“Please.” Said the Commissioner, trying to keep the emotion from his voice. “Ms Prince may be the only one who can help us. The Gotham courts can’t seem to get anything to stick on Dr Isley, we need to go above the corruption, to the UN. And maybe Diana’s lasso could at least…”

“ALRIGHT!” roared Bruce. “Fine. I’ll have Dick send an email to the UN in Metropolis. But just so you know, I still have reservations….Hang on, where is Dick? Alfred?”


Bruce turned to his trustworthy butler.


“Mr Grayson left about an hour ago, sir. Said he believed he had a solution to the current situation...”


The Commissioner and Bruce looked at eachother, and then a horrible realization fell on Gorden. There were two Batsuits missing from the case, and a prototype pheromone-shielding mask in the shape of a bird’s beak.


“Dick!” Yelled Bruce in anguish. “What have you done???”


To be continued….
 

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Potential Patron
Part 4: Dick Grayson: Bird-Brained

“Dick!” Yelled Bruce Wayne in anguish. “What have you done???”


The aging vigilante could barely contain his rage, or his pride in his young protege. Dick must have known that his mentor would never sanction this, stealing a Batsuit and going off to face Dr Pamela Isley alone, without backup. Bruce had already sent his one time lover / enemy Selina Kyle and his medical contact Dr Harleen Quinzel to face the pharmaceutical entrepreneur; the former had ended up in the hospital, the latter dead. Barbara Gorden - his other protege - had also disappeared.


His reverie was interrupted by an alarm echoing round the batcave. That was the doorbell to Wayne Manor!


Commissioner Gorden and Bruce looked at each other and said “Dick??” at the same time, whilst Alfred - Bruce’s trusted Butler, left through a side passageway to enter the manor proper and answer the door. A moment later he reappeared.


“Is it Dick?” Growled the Bat. “If so, I’m going to kick his….”


“It’s not Master Grayson.” Intoned the butler, stepping aside. “It’s Barbara Gorden!”


Bruce watched with something close to delight as his friend the Commissioner's face flooded with relief, then fell as they both looked at Barbara for the first time in several weeks. The former trainee Batgirl was walking with a marked limp, and was wearing a lab coat and slacks marked “Property of Ivy Pharmaceuticals”. She looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks, and burst into tears as she hobbled into the Batcave and into the arms of the Commissioner.


“Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry, so sorry! I tried to resist her….I did, but she broke my legs! Then she promised to fix them if I became her...became her….Lab-Bat!” she wailed.


“Shush, it's ok honey, you’re here now…” said the Commissioner, stroking his daughter's brunette hair. Bruce looked away; he’d never been comfortable with public displays of parental love, not since his childhood.


“I tried to be a good Lab-Bat for her…” Continued the wailing Barbara. “I took my venom everyday, so that my legs would repair...but she’s crazy, Dad! She acts like she’s this great entrepreneur environmentalist, but when she had Harleen between her thighs….she just broke her neck like it was nothing! And she dumped all that Pherattract into the Gotham river...That’s when I made my decision, as soon as my legs were strong enough, I ran away.”


“But it’s so dangerous!” interjected Bruce. “The city is rioting! With so many lust crazed men now running amok because of the Pheratract in the water supply…”


“I know.” Sobbed Barbara. “But I managed to steal Dr Harleen’s Vaydor, which she left outside the docks. I made it back. I thought I’d never see you again, Bruce. Or you, Daddy. Or you, Alfred. Or Dick....where’s Dick?”


Bruce turned away again. He’d let the Commissioner break the bad news.


“Dick went missing an hour or so ago. He took the Batpod and a Batsuit. We think he went to try and rescue you on his own.”


“No!” Squeaked Barbara. “How will he do that? As soon as he gets near Pamela he’ll be overcome by the pheromones, and submit to her…”


“He took something with him. '' Grumbled Bruce, re-entering the conversation. “Something we’d been working on at Wayne Enterprises R&D: a pheromone-shielding mask. It’s just a prototype, though.”


“Can we not track him??”


“No, he disabled the transponder on the Batpod. If we could…”


“Master Wayne?” They all turned to Alfred, who was staring at a tablet he was holding in his hand. Bruce always thought it looked incongruous when the butler was using the internet, like two different eras colliding.


“What is it, Alfred?”


“I think you’re going to want to see this. It was picked up by Wayne Cybersecurity, scanning the darkweb. I asked them to do a search for master Grayson…”


“Put it on the projector!”


Alfred fumbled with the device for a moment, before Barbara stepped forward and helped him. Not quite mastered the digital age though Bruce, uncharitably. With the waterfall off to prevent contamination from the Pherattract attack, Barbara was able to get the image from the tablet to project directly onto the cave wall.


The image was a live video-feed. It showed what appeared to be a fighting cage, set up in a huge disused sewer. A braying mob of lust-crazed punters were surrounding it, cheering. The camera zoomed into the cage, where a ringmaster stood in the center, a huge figure in a referee's garb and a grotesque mask of tubes on his face.


“The Gotham Underground Deathfight Club.” Whispered Commissioner Gorden. “That’s Bane, the club’s ringleader- real name unknown. We’ve been trying to track it down for years, with no success. They set the cage up around the sewers, moving constantly. They make money from the fights by taking bets on the Dark Web…”


“People of Gotham!” Said Bane, his low voice very distorted from both his strange mask and the batcave’s speakers. “What strange times we live in! There’s something in the water….and sadly I cannot smell it, due to my disability!” He touched his mask. “But we have a VERY special fight for you this evening, and perhaps as befits these lustful times, a mixed fight! So without any further ado, let me introduce our competitors! As you know, our fighters never use their “real” names, and choose an alias for the deathfights. Our first challenger tonight is Mother Earth personified, may I introduce…..POISON IVY!”


The camera panned to one corner of the cage, and there she was. Dr Pamela Isley was wearing the snakeskin catsuit a half-conscious Selina had described, with a leaf and orchid bra and underwear over the top. She was crouched in the corner like a panther, and her eyes were pure white, her facial skin and bare feet green, her hair vivid red. She looked half-crazed, thought Bruce, not the in-control entrepreneur they all knew from the adverts. The lust driven crowd were going livid, practically licking the bars near to her in worshipful reverence.


“POISON IVY had put out a call for any challenger tonight so she could demonstrate something…” Continued Bane. “And someone answered! May I introduce a challenger, who claims to be an acrobat and martial artist, but goes by a slightly strange pseudonym….ROBIN!”


“NO!” Yelped Bruce, Alfred, and the two Gordons as the camera panned to the other corner. Dick Grayson’s face was covered by the strange, bird-beak shaped pheromone shielding mask, but they could all tell it was him. He was clad in his own custom fitted dark red graphene-Kevlar batsuit, which showed off his six pack and stopped short halfway down his muscular thighs. He looked damn impressive, though Bruce. Barbara was besides herself though.


“Oh God, no! We have to stop this! Where are they, Dad?”

“I have no idea.” Said the Commissioner, grimly. “We may just have to let this play out....”


Bruce tried to be reassuring. “If it’s a fair fight, Dick should walk this. Yes Pamela has her Venus Thigh-Trap or whatever she calls it, but Dick is a trained martial artist and former circus gymnast. He’s also wearing a Batsuit.”


“That won't do him any good…” Barbara tailed off as Bane was speaking again.


“The times may be different, but the rules are the same. The opponents fight until one is dead. The victor can take their time with their victim, make them beg, whatever they want. At this stage, we ask the challengers if there’s anything they wish to say to each other. POISON: any - possibly last - words?”


Pamela smirked and winked for the camera. “I’ll save my words for the end of the fight. Let’s just say I’m here to deliver a message….”


The crowd whooped at this enigmatic utterance as the camera panned to Dick. “And you, ROBIN? Any - mayhaps final - things to say to our lovely lady in green?”


“Only this!” Declared Dick, sounding like a boy scout saying the pledge of allegiance. “Your reign of deception and mischief ends tonight…. “IVY”! You’ve going to tell me where she is… then I’m going to be your judge, jury and executioner!”


Bruce’s heart swelled with pride as the two fighters started to circle like fighting tigers in the cage. He had adopted the young Dick Grayson when he was just an orphan. Dick was being coerced to work in a travelling circus as part of a modern slavery ring. Because of this, Dick was incredibly acrobatic, and had easily taken to karate, jiu-jitsu, Mauy-Thai and numerous other martial arts that Bruce had schooled him in. And he was wearing the pheromone-shielding beak mask, and a graphene-Kevlar batsuit....as long as he kept that on, Bruce was confident he could kick Pamela’s ass and succeed where the three women had failed.


“Don’t worry.” He grunted reassuringly to Barbara, who was sobbing into the Commissioner’s shoulder. “He’s got this…”


The buzzer rang, barely audible above the roar of the crowd coming through the Batcave’s speakers. The fight began.


Pamela - or Poison Ivy as she was calling herself now - made the first move. It was almost laughably telegraphed. A roundhouse kick, which served to show off her admittedly stellar leg clad in its snakeskin material, but little else. Not only did Dick - or Robin to give his cage fighting moniker (a ridiculous name, thought Bruce privately) see the kick coming but he evaded it by leaping into the air and performing a backwards somersault which actually caused the crowd to go silent. When Pamela lunged in again, this time with a side kick, he vaulted clear over her and booted her in the back with a kick of his own which sent the entrepreneur stumbling.


“YEAH!” Yelled Barbara. “Kick her ass, Dick!” Meanwhile in the ring, the mics could pick up Robin’s taunting.


“Oh dear, Pamela. It’s pretty obvious you have no real fighting skills beyond your Venus Thigh-Trap.” Scrambling back to her feet to face him, Pamela’s eyes were wide with shock as he unnamed her.


“Yeah, that’s right, I know what you did.” Continued Dick. “To Selena Kyle, for instance! You crushed her, in cold blood!”


“Not true!” Shouted Pamela, who was breathing hard opposite. “She broke into my…” but Dick was already in motion, leaping forward for what looked like a front kick. When Pamela went to dive out the way, Dick switched to a circus cartwheel, planting one hand on the ground and swinging his legs out wide. Pamela ended up taking two feet to the chin and went staggering to the ground.


“Quiet!” Yelled Dick, as Pamela sat on her knees, rubbing a hand to her lip which came away pink. “As I was saying, you also captured Barbara, the love of my life, and now you’re going to tell me where she is….” Bruce watched keenly as his protege strutted in front of the downed doctor.


“Now I’m not…..” started Pamela, but Dick suddenly backflipped, and the tops of his boots hit her chin. A cloud of sweat and blood arched through the air as Pamela was planted on her back.


“YES! That’s it baby, punish her!” Yelled Barbara in the batcave. On the screen, Dick circled behind a panting Pamela who was trying to crawl away on the floor.


“I said be quiet. Now, as I was saying OOOoooooooooooofff!” Dick staggered back as the prone Pamela suddenly performed a brutal mule kick and caught Dick mid-monologue. Barbara, Bruce and the Commissioner all gasped as Dick dropped to his knees clutching his abs, even as the crowd in the cage arena roared back to life.


“It’s ok…” said Bruce, more to himself than anything. “That’s kevlar-Graphene, he’s faking it….” On the screen, Pamela stood up, blood running down her chin, red hair all over the place. She looked deranged. She walked in front of the kneeling Dick Grayson and cocked her leg back.


“Nice try, bird-brain...!” she started, but Dick suddenly sprang into a handstand, another circus trick, and grabbed the entrepreneur’s neck between his strong calves. Barbara whooped for joy as Pamela’s hands grabbed at the clasping limbs around her neck, and for a moment they staggered like that, Pamela on her feet, Dick on his hands. Then the protege twisted his hips and threw her to the cage floor. Propping himself on one elbow he stared down at her through the beak mask. “And finally….you killed Dr Quinzel! And now I’m going to kill you, unless you….mmmmmmmmmmmmmmpppppppppppphhh!”


As he gloated, Pamela’s own legs suddenly swung round and grappled Dicks head like a boa constrictor grabbing its prey. Dick squealed, and suddenly both fighters were trapped in each other's legs, squirming on the ground.


“Break her fucking neck!” Squealed Barbara, and for a moment it looked like Dick might be in with a chance, as Pamela had been in his hold longer and was starting to go a little blue. But then the doctor's snake-skin clad thighs began to ripple in a familiar motion.


“NO….” whispered Barbara, knowing what that meant. The venom was coming to life. Suddenly, Pamela’s limbs snapped taught and went tense. Dick started convulsing and his own legs came loose, allowing a panting Pamela to sit up and see the masked Dick suddenly panicking in her constricting legs, the back of her left glute crushing his windpipe.


“Yes….” said Pamela. “I crushed that bitch cat burglar….when she broke into my greenhouse! And yes, I made your little whore of a girlfriend beg between my legs, again in self-defence! And as for Dr Harleen Quinzel, well….I’m not saying, and neither are you!” She gave another monstrous jerk of her legs then opened them. Dick lay wheezing on the floor, clutching his throat.


“He needs a medic….” Stammered Bruce, redundantly as there was nothing they could do. On the screen, Pamela had stood up and was now dragging the breathless Dick to his knees by his hair. Once there, she coiled her left leg around in front of his face and cinched the beak mask between her calf and thigh, in the back of her knee. “He de-anonymised me, so it's only fair I return the favour. Lets unmask this bird…” She said to the ecstatic crowd, then clenched her leg. The beak mask crunched in her single scissor leg grip, and Dick squealed as she pulled her leg forward and wrenched it away.


The crowd gasped as the fighter was unveiled as Bruce Wayne’s protege. “See? Looks like this boy scout isn’t so squeaky clean.” Mocked Pamela. Dick was now looking up at her with an adoring look, and Bruce realised that without the mask he was inhaling the Pheratract. He was under her spell. Realising this, Pamela said “I could easily squeeze you out of that Batsuit like I did to your girlfriend, but how about you just save me time and deactivate it?” She winked at the camera as she said this, and Barbara howled with rage.


Sure enough, with a meek “yes, Mistress…” Dick pressed a panel on the side of the suit and the material went limp. Satisfied, Pamela circled behind him and casually sat down, looping her legs around his middle. She whispered something in his ear, all the while looking at the camera. Bruce could tell this little show was for Barbara’s benefit. To gasps from the crowd, the enthralled Dick reached down and got out...his erect dick. Pamela then cinched his now unprotected ribs with her thighs and gripped his erect member with her bare green feet. She really did look completely wild now, the genius entrepreneur replaced by this sensuous freak-queen. She really was becoming her Poison Ivy persona.


Flexing her limbs, she spoke to the crowd, Bane and the camera. “Dick here has something of a dilemma. He really, really wants to come, don’t you Bird-Brain?” She rubbed his dick with her petite feet as she said this, and the captive Dick moaned “Yes….yes please let me come, mistress….”


Pamela rolled her eyes. “It’s Doctor, actually, but I’ll let that slide. If Dick here wants to come, I’ll have to break his ribs in the process. You see, if I rub my feet together any harder, the snake muscles in my thighs will flex. Without the protective effect of the kevlar-Graphene batsuit, the pressure will snap his lower ribs. But it's up to him really. So Dick, shall I let you go, or would you prefer to come and have your ribs snapped?”


Dick instantly started yelling desperately: “BREAK MY RIBS! PLEASE DOCTOR, BREAK MY RIBS AND LET ME COME!”


In the batcave, Barbara burst into tears again. The whole of Gotham society knew she was dating Bruce Wayne’s protege, and for everyone to watch another woman humili-crush him and for him to enjoy it was just too much.


“I will grant your wish…” said Pamela sadistically, and flexed her thighs. Several things happened at once. Pamela’s perfectly formed feet clenched and jerked upwards, pulling on Dick’s erect dick. A thin stream of come erupted from him. At the same time, the mesmerizing rippling beneath Pamela’s snakeskin catsuit reached a crescendo, her constricting limbs suddenly bulging as they pressed inwards. There was an audible series of snaps, like machine gun fire, as his ribs caved in. He cried out in a howl of anguish and ecstasy as Pamela released him, and he toppled onto his side on the floor, clutching at his ruined ribs and still pumping penis.


Pamela stood up, triumphant, over him, and placed her green foot near his mouth. As she spoke, Dick lapped his own seed off of it pathetically like a cowed puppy.


“People of Gotham. For too long, industrialists like Bruce Wayne and his thralls have kept the rest of you away from nature. Our city has grown ever larger, and with it crime, corruption, nepotism...and sexism! My Pheratract product allowed women to take back some power for themselves. Now, my new product - which I am going to call Poison Ivy - will allow environmental warriors to take back the city using a new combat art - the Venus Thigh-Trap. Take advantage of the chaos! Rise up for nature! Satisfy your natural, base desires! CRUSH the enemies of planet earth underfoot!”


As she said this last sentence, she lifted up her right leg, then stomped it back down with brutal force. Dick Grayson’s skull exploded under the pressure. In the batcave, Barbara screamed. Bruce gasped. The Commissioner lowered his head in grim resignation. In the cage, Bane walked into the ring, wading through Dick’s brain matter, and raised Pamela hand up high.


“We have a winner! By Foot Stomp Skull Crush, Poison Ivy! Join us again next week! And I have a feeling these fights will be much easier to run in the new Gotham!”


The camera panned from Bane’s mask to the grinning, bloody, wild freckled face of Poison Ivy, then went black.


In the batcave, the sound of Barbara’s sobs echoed in the ensuing silence. It was Alfred who finally broke it, having received a message on his tablet.


“Excuse me for the interruption at this difficult time, Master Wayne, but you should know: United Nations Representative Ms Prince is here from Metropolis. Her helicopter just touched down on the manor lawn. Shall I admit her?”


“Yes. Bring her in.” Bruce heard himself say. He still couldn’t believe it. Dick, young Dick Grayson who he’d taken in. The likable lad from the circus of people traffickers, who’d grown into a dependable, idealistic partner in crime fighting. Who’d been a rock to Barbara, so much so that even the protective Commissioner had approved of them dating. He was such an idealist, Bruce had often seen him as his moral compass. And now….gone. Crushed under the foot of a woman drunk on her own medicine.


As they waited for Alfred to return with their guest, Bruce said “At least now we have a confession. You heard it, on the internet, she admitted to killing Dr Quinzell, kidnapping Barbara and crushing Selena Kyle…”


The Commissioner grunted, his voice barely audible where it was muffled in Barbara’s auburn hair as he comforted her. “It won’t matter. She can still plead self-defence. The only thing we might be able to get her for is illegal cage fighting. Worse, we could now be indicted for damaging Ivy Pharmacetical’s property…”


The door to the Batcave chimed as Alfred returned.


“May I present, Ms Diana Prince from the UN.”


The woman who entered was tall, possibly even taller than Bruce, and in her mid thirties. Although it was inappropriate to think it at a time like this, Bruce had to admit she was preternaturally beautiful, with long jet black hair which was almost blue. She was wearing a tight beige coat which only went down to half-thigh length, revealing long, toned looking bare legs and black boots. When she spoke, her accent had a hint of the South American continent mixed in with Metropolis.


“Bruce Wayne. Commissioner Gorden. Barbara. My name is Diana Prince, UN ambassador for Amazonia and current security council chair. First of all, my sincere condolences to all of you about Dick Grayson. I heard the news on the flight over. He was by all accounts an ethical young man. Bruce, I know you don’t always see eye-to-eye with our methods in Metropolis. But the situation here in Gotham calls for no half measures. Pamela Isley is out of control, and clearly thinks she can act with impunity. But she’s wrong. I’m going to challenge her, woman on woman. I’m ex-Amazonian special forces, and I was leg choking out enemies before Pamela Isley was even at Gotham Academy. Gentlemen - Barbara - before this month is out, Pamala Isley will answer to the THIGHS OF TRUTH!”


To be continued….in the next and final installment of the Gotham Squeeze saga: Diana Prince and the Thighs of Truth!
 

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