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The Cat and The Rat	By : TimedWatcher Category: +A through F > Batman: Arkham City Views: 2169 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or the Arkham series, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Poison Ivy
- 2-Catwoman
- 1
- 2
He was the best in Gotham City, bar none. No firewall was too high. No encryption was too tight. Giving him your IP was like giving your address to a well armed militia, but he only ever hit the big stuff; stuff where one had to really prove their mettle, but things were getting tougher. Smarter systems meant longer hours. It wasn't like the old days, where it was easier to just call up places and fake your way into information, or dig in dumpsters for important papers and broken eMachines.
A boon came in the form of that new internet funded by WayneTech: Wayne Fiber. Which made it all the more easy to get where he wanted. It took a couple years before everybody was connected to it, no thanks to ISPs like [name withheld]. They had puppets in power that did everything to cling to their ever shrinking market share in keeping Wayne Fiber out of any cities and rural areas they could.
It was time he used to grow and trade ideas with people on IRC before everything was up to speed.
That's where he got his name. On an IRC. R@tgold. Or just R@t. Actually the origin of it came from an old video game chat room he went to. One of the things he used to do back then was login into separate accounts and get into arguments with himself to seem like the bigger and smarter man. He had initially called himself Rat2323, cause people always called him ratface. It would have bothered him if not for a book he read as a kid that made rats seem like the coolest things on the planet - so he always sort of held it with a little pride.
Normally I didn't snoop into government affairs, but as you can see from my screed, I wasn't exactly the biggest fan. I just liked being in the ecosystem. A what if, if you will, of what could happen if I sold my software to the highest bidder, or indeed, selling the information. The results wouldn't be pretty, I assure you.
The challenge was everything.
Besides a few dollars here and there of course... he had to at least keep up the digs he was living in. Not to mention the parts, the food... He only ever skimmed off the top of some rich dudes fortune. What would they care about a couple hundred dollars anyway. Besides, the government only really cares when there's seven figures on the line, and they had bigger fish to fry with all those kinds of freaks running around. What's one hacker, really?
Late into a Friday night, politics were on the mind. Specifically the local kind. Reading some e-mails between two people in office got him curious. They had their usual pleasantries about family. Talking about their affairs, political and otherwise. Their discussions mentioned future maintenance and a gigantic overhaul of the systems next week. Whole new security, password and administrator changes along with new storage methods like harddrives that could hold 1 whole terabyte of data!
Freaking dinosaurs.
Still. Rat was intrigued. That would kill a few minutes at least. They eventually started talking in buzzwords and phrases, things he'd never heard of and weren't available on a quick search engine run. Like "Arkham City", "protocol 10." He knew about the old Arkham Asylum. That place was so archaic they didn't even have their own locally hosted server. Their website was hosted outside of Gotham and really had nothing juicy on it. Just simple HTML with flash integration telling you about their accommodations. He was mad he even typed in the URL.
Next week rolled around, and with a crack of his knuckles, he got to work.
Everything had gone according to plan. Now all that secretive stuff that had those politicians mentioned? It was all here. Black and white. Arkham City was some new experiment in criminal processing. Park Row, codenamed Crime Alley, was being reconstructed to hold all of the criminals and reprobates in one place. It actually tripped him up, made him sloppy. He had to know more, but every second was burning away like a lit line leading into some volatile TNT. As he was about to get into what exactly Protocol 10 was, it deadlinked and lead him to a sinister red "Stop". He couldn't unplug his setup fast enough. Everything he did, from keystrokes, to word documents, to porn he fancied, were uploaded somewhere confidential.
You'd think he'd have reached for a magnet, right?
Wrong.
He disassembled his harddrive, coming close to ripping everything apart before he trudged off away from his main computer room, two handing the HDD between his grubby fingers like it was the clamshell case for the tastiest hamburger in the world.
Following an extension cord into his bathroom, the damaged and bandaged wire tapered off into his tub - the wall near it darkened in several spots, some of the marks nearly reached the roof as well. The stench of old burnt metal and plastics could blacken the soul. In his opinion, you'd have better luck throwing a harddrive in the trash and hoping nobody would find it than just swiping it over and over with a magnet. Too many possibly incriminating pieces could remain intact. But a total surge and burn? Good luck with getting anything from that.
It couldn't have been more than a few minutes after he'd got done destroying evidence when his door was kicked in. Literally. He thought that only happened in the movies. Except these weren't cops. They were goons in masks. A white and black striped T adorned their fancy outfits. He didn't say a word as he was cuffed and hauled. If they were smart, they had him lock stock and smoking barrel. If they weren't, they had nothing on him. Not that it seemed to matter now with the way they were treating him.
Without so much as a word said to him about his rights, he was kicked into the back of a military grade van, smacking hard with his mouth before being hauled off. He could only lay on his stomach, thinking how everything had changed in his life in an instant. Out of nowhere was a sudden halting that sent him rolling about, his body colliding into prisoner seating. As the back doors of the van popped open and he was "escorted" out of the vehicle, his jaw would have dropped if it didn't hurt so much.
Large steel walls that scaled in such a way that he was sure he wouldn't stop tilting his head back. This was Arkham City. Propped up only after a manner of weeks. He was going to be put into one of the largest prisons in the world, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Being placed in a dark room in a steel chair, he hoped he could explain himself. Yet as the light hummed on, nobody was there with him. Just a video monitor that flickered on, then a man with rounded glasses and a beard appeared. "There will be no attornies, no court rooms, no lawyers. Criminals, either low level or hyper, will all be given the same treatment. Whoever this is, you must not be on my priority list for me to make an appearance. Don't take it personally. I have many patients under my care, and you are now one of them." When the video monitor returned to a standby mode, a guard came in and as if he were some drunk at a bar, he was tossed out of the room unceremoniously into a pen amongst many convicts. He tried to keep his head down, but even here with several of those guards, there seemed to be violence between the inmates regardless. Yelling and beating all happened around him and he couldn't help but try to see it all.
He was corralled into one of the lines like cattle, both columns A and B were marked in giant white letters respectively. He was placed into the latter. Some were like him. Clearly not meant for this kind of place. Like lambs to slaughter.
"The doctor isn't in right now to process you pigs. So it's gonna be a lot quicker than usual." The jarhead motioned to a guard, who began uncuffing us individually.
A tall guy, black. When he was uncuffed, he lunged at baldie, dropping down to his knees, placing his hands on him, begging the man with a strange accent. "Please don't put me in here! I've got a family!" Without hesitation, our gracious host whipped out his pistol and put a hole in the pleading mans head.
Without missing a beat, he placed it back in his holster. His booming voice from earlier returning again. "Any of you scum try anything similar and I'll personally put you down for something worse. Maybe hourly shock treatment. Or a lobotomy? We're one of the few states that still practice it. Do I make myself clear?" Turning away from them, hands locked behind his back, head raised, posture proper. "Death is a privilege, and I just gave that man the golden ticket out of here." He turned, his voice lower than before. "Welcome to Arkham City."
=========================
There was a group of us now, locked up in a box. This was their way of inserting us into the "city". None of us had any words to say, and even if we did, would anybody listen? It was nothing but quiet dread. As the metal door raised, a wail of screams and yells washed over. It was the first taste of the outside world and any hope he had left over for this place were dashed. Bunches of them had massed up against fences to his left and right, everything was inaudible due to the noise. They were like animals, shaking the cages they were in. It seemed like such a short walk down a linear pathway, but with all eyes on you, it made things grueling.
Then he noticed a few of them started climbing over.
Everything went wrong so fast and his mind was working on adrenaline. He had no idea that he could even move like he did, especially with the asthma he had. He was just lucky enough not to get caught, slipping between the cracks in that mad chaotic mess. Running past a burnt out van, the echo of people was nulled now, but he could hear the foot steps of potential pursuers. He made like a mouse and ducked into the first alley he could see, slipping past a small hole in a wooden fence. He had to suck in his gut to just clear it. He hugged along the backside of it. Whoever had given chase had stopped and he almost wanted to peak through the crevice just get an idea of what they were doing, but this could be his only chance and he knew he couldn't blow this. When he heard him take to jogging again, he looked up to the sky, relieved, as he exhaled, exhausted, he collapsed into the barrier, sliding down. The ground beneath him was slightly moist, but he didn't care as he just wanted to sit. Although getting wet was probably a bad idea considering how cold it was.
His mind drew nothing but blanks as he stared at the wet asphalt, hands stuffed in his pockets, legs shaking harshly trying to stay warm as he propped himself up now. Video games had win states. They were a lot like when he would hack. Trying to break them, understanding the rules and then make them do what he wanted them to do. This was a no win situation. Nothing but blocked off exits to buildings and trash surrounded him. The sky was dark, polluted with clouds, yet it all seemed so bright for night time. For some reason, the neon pink "HOTEL" sign stood out in his mind when he made the escape. It raised the question, was there sanctuary in hell? He had to find one.
He took to the backbeat. Mainly alleyways. Making sure to look both ways before crossing the street when no other options were available. It really did mean the difference between life and death. The whole place was a rust bucket. Rotted store fronts, barrels that had outlived their usefulness at providing warmth. Everywhere he went, it felt like he'd need a tetanus shot just from overstaying his welcome.
One place he looked at from a distance was a row of broken trains that was full of orange glows. There seemed to be some contingent of people trying to stay out of this whole thing entirely. Maybe they were what he was looking for. Then again, maybe not.
Passing into another alley, he hadn't followed his new golden rule and now his dirty and ratty tennis shoe was dunked into a muck of dirty water. He stood, staring. He wasn't in shock or anything, but pulling it out all of a sudden wouldn't solve anything considering how deep it sunk. It just wasn't his day.
He took seat on a stoop, throwing off the shoe and stretching the damp sock. He knotted it and began twisting it as hard as he could. He banged his shoe against the stone wall near him, making a squishy thump in response, but he stopped to think that maybe it wasn't the best idea.
"Well whattawehave here?" Oh crap. They had him marked.
The three of them surrounded him, cornering him into the back of a wall. He only raised his hands instinctively. "Hey whoa, I don't want any trouble." He tried to play it as coolly as possible, but maybe came off sounding more like prey. They kept their distance though.
The one in the cracked plastic mask, an eye clearly alive behind the exterior. "The Jokuh requests experts of various fields. Unlucky for you mack, you were on the hit list." The Joker? Really? He wants me to work for him?
He had to remind himself who it was. THE FREAKIN' JOKER? Hell. No. "You're crazier than him if you think I'd work for him."
It didn't take long for them to become aggressors, as they invaded his personal space. The two goons backing the one in the mask, wore grease paint. Both with spades and clubs marked clearly. They reared their teeth like pitbulls ready to be unleashed on a piece of meat. The man before him produced something from his pocket and with a flip of it, the switch blade popped. He stared into the dagger as it dangled in his vision. "Jokuh don't like his competition having an edge. Things could get real ugly kid."
"You don't have to do that." Before anybody could react, a crack rang out in the night. The man with the knife's eye bulged as he was yanked, his hand shooting open and the knife he wielded dropped to the street. "Seeing as you boys already fit the bill." A woman in what he could only describe as some fetish gedup, with a devil may care attitude, appeared out of nowhere. Her hand gripping firmly on the handle of a whip as she held it close to her face, she pulled on it once again, which caused the unchanging features of the red nosed clown to holler out, still with a smile on his fake face. His hand was now all oozing and bloody, filleted of some of his skin. She wasn't playing.
"It's the cat!" One of them yelled out. He may as well have been a ghost at that point as they turned their intentions on her. He couldn't stop himself from joining them. Who would wear something so... revealing? Clearly she had no qualms about her body and probably would have gone nude if not for the tactical purposes he assumed stemmed from the outfit.
They scrambled in her direction. She had... catlike reflexes to say the least. When they were charging toward her, his face almost fell into his hands, expecting her to get the worst of it. Instead, the first one to throw a punch missed completely, only to have it grabbed and twisted, his anguish clear as he fell away from the fray. A duo of them played it more cautiously, circling her. As another one attempted a heaved punch, he was quickly caught by the forearm, receiving a paw of razor blades to the face in a quick flash, he was in extreme pain to say the least, holding the newly marked flesh as he fell to a single knee. Using his arm as leverage, she flipped over it like a bar, bringing her foot down on the plastic faced one, splitting it in two. He went down like a sack of potatoes. Landing, she delivered a final standing sweep kick to the only remaining thug still standing... relatively speaking.
He didn't care how good her ass looked in that tight leather. He didn't want a single part of this. He turned back and just as he was about to place his first foot forward, there was that familiar snap and his other planted leg got tripped out from under him. He only just barely turned to land on his side instead of his back, before he started skidding against the ground. At least the air wasn't sucked right out of him. Although now he wondered what he was gonna do, if anything at all.
He came to a stop and before he did anything, his hand flew harshly to the ground, her high heeled boot locking it into place. Thankfully, not with the pointy part. Her face, lowered ever so closely to his. "Aw... don't want to give the hero a kiss?" Her make up was a bit obvious around the cheeks, but she was beautiful regardless, and she sure was flexible... Her green eyes were enticing, with a come hitherness about them. Yet he saw more than that. It reminded him of something in some circles he was apart of. Absinthe. Alluring but dangerous all at once. With lips so lush and smooth, unconsciously, his face began to raise to meet hers.
His eyes wandered for a second, and he almost lost it when he saw the primed hand, springing into a claw grip, he flinched and everything went dark. Instead of flesh tearing, he heard a harsh stab, as rock crumbled into the freshly created hole her strike created. "One chance cutie, so I expect an honest answer." Her fingers that crushed the road now tapping lightly against his chest. "What does pale and psycho need you for?" She raised an eyebrow, quite quizzical and at the same time, underestimating.
He swallowed. "I'm good with computers."
"How good?" Her interest piqued.
"Ever heard of... the happy smile raid?"
There was a pause as she seemed to think about it. "The guy who left those yellow faces all over military networks?" He could feel the disappointment in her voice.
He gestured a finger up at her. "That's the one."
Easing off him when she heard that, she had begun readjusting her claws. "Joker probably thought that was hilarious." She said nonchalantly, paying him no mind as she popped one back into place. As he too rose up, out from the corner of his eye, he could have sworn she licked the back of her wrist.
Wandering off into the night seemed like the best course of action but she was having none of it.
"It seems to me a guy like you could use a place to stay." Her hand had wrapped around his neck, pulling him towards her, chin in her grasp, she looked down at him with an impish smirk. Pointing to him, she continued. "Lucky for you, I need somebody with your set of skills."
Catwoman... Joker... wasn't it all the same? Well. To be fair. Catwoman's not really known for perforating the necks of her associates if they fail her. The choice became clearer when she started tightening her hand.
"When do we start?" He asked with smooshed cheeks and sputtering lips.
=========================
"Wrap your arms around me." His hands awkwardly reached around her bust, trying to clasp together without touching her... if that made sense. "Come on. Haven't you ever touched a woman before?" Both of them were quiet. "Don't answer that. Just hold on tight, kid."
He gasped, his stomach tightening as he felt a lack of gravity underneath him. He just kept his eyes closed and his face dug into her back. The way he held on for dear life, not even sure if he was gonna make the next drop that Catwoman made, he knew what it reminded him of - it was like when he rode rollercoasters as a kid; except without the safety lines. As the cold night winds breezed by his ears, they also whipped across his knuckles. He could feel his grip starting to slip, but without missing a beat, she snugged his hand into her outfit. He was relieved for a moment, only to realise the flesh he was actually touching. He thought about pulling it away, but the warmth was too inviting...
Landing with pure grace, he was ashamed to admit he was sick as a dog. Just like getting off a ride, his head was spinning and felt like he wanted to upchuck, and his leg... why wouldn't it stop shaking? That's when he noticed beneath his feet the catwalk they were on, the precariousness of where they were, but he froze up seeing the building before them. A hotel not so much taken over, but raped by tentacled plantlife, as roots tried to affix themselves to every one of the buildings orifices, while a noxious looking fog channeled and brewed from the rooftop. The splashing channel below and the way the growths were ripping it up from the Earth, made the building almost separate from Arkham City itself.
Catwoman took out a hairpin and began picking a padlock on a chain that wrapped around a closed gate with a sign that read 'DANGER: Do not enter', while oddly, two ferns sat invitingly at the door like it was somebodies home. Once she was finished with a click, she raised her goggles above her head, as a look of unease came over her as she scanned the building and the way it thrived. "Look, I need to talk business, and I'm not really sure which would be safer: Out here, or with me, so it's your call."
Feeling the world go vertigo again, he made it clear. "I'll... I'll follow you."
"Alright - but it's kind of a freakshow in there. Just don't panic and stay close to me." He wondered how close she meant. As Catwoman opened the door, it hit him almost instantly: Moistness. He hated to say it, but this was the first place in Arkham that had a pleasant smell. The interior was slimy, filled with man sized venus flytraps that lined up two sides in a row, and what seemed to be every kind of leaf he could think of, from eucalyptus to maple, poured from the wallpaper, with roots as thick as tree trunks could have been mistaken for load bearing pillars.
"Hello? Ivy? You here?" Catwoman's tone was odd. Almost playful, or even trying to be funny.
The response back was anything but amused. "You shouldn't have come here."
A heavy set of tree branches slowly began to move, revealing her in all her glory, as she rested upon a throne of oversized lily pads. Rat couldn't help himself, stepping ahead of Catwoman. This was Poison Ivy? He had read about her a few times. She wasn't just an eco terrorist, she was THE eco terrorist, but he had no idea how... "one" she was with it. Her red locks were as wild as the very thing she was trying to save, wavy and kinda crazy, almost flowing like the Bride of Frankenstein's. Skin a light green, but not sickly, but more like a really healthy house plant. Her long slender legs were marked up with chlorophyll filled veins; it reminded him of armor.
"Oh, c'mon. You're not seriously going to hold that against me forever, are you?" Catwoman spoke like she could get out of anything.
"You killed them all!" Ivy's voice and reaction was defiance in the face of Catwoman's light hearted attitude.
Catwoman reacted like she couldn't believe she had to explain herself. "Ugh. They were just flowers, Ivy. I'll buy you some new ones, I know a place that-"
There was a thump, and he had little time to react to what was to come.
Same went for Catwoman.
The floor beneath them swelled and broke apart, sending bits of wood everywhere in a sound akin to over the top renovation. Rat turned to see Catwoman react like any human would at the lack of footing beneath ones feet and the idea of falling on your head. He could see just the scantest bit of fright in her eyes before she disappeared. In his fear for the worst, he ran over to see if she landed okay. Apparently, she had taken a three story fall and seemed to shrug it off, rotating her arm to test if all systems were go for her. He reeled back a bit, a little too over the edge for his comfort. He imagined if anything had happened to her, the weight of that alone would have been the tipping point, because he didn't know if he could even survive without her.
"Oh my... you and I haven't been properly introduced..." Right... he was still in here with her. With all his muscles locked, he turned slowly to face her. She seemed weightless, almost floating down to his level, but he could see the vines had come into place as steps for her. He wondered how she got that Arkham staff jacket, which she only wore half of, using the top half's belt to secure it to her tits, leaving her skinny midriff bare, caring little for clothing itself was clear. Like Eve, she wore a leaf to cover her more natural bits; a high waisted bikini bottom that blended in nearly with the rest of it, practically making her a lithesome creature of nudity regardless. She had an hourglass figure with a super model build. "I'm Poison Ivy." Outstreching her hand, then her palm, she moved languidly - then her big red lips puckered, blowing lightly, as a pink dusty mist picked up and began flying past him, before circling him. He held his breath for as long as he could, and a tiny whiff for air sent a tingle up the inside of his head.
"That's a..." His body contorted forward, his thoughts changing rapidly, the corners of his lips upturning. "... beautiful name."
"Now why in the world would she have you along?" She stalked around him on barefeet, her toenails colored black, with dark green, dirty looking toes that looked like they had been in soil. She spoke softly, yet it still rang with an echo. Her words stood tall, visible inside his head. He didn't think about things like the pains he had gone through, his childhood or even what he had for breakfast - his focus was entirely on what she wanted, and he didn't mind that.
"Catwoman said she needs me..." He answered in his fugue state.
She placed her hand on his cheek, and stared deep down into his soul -- her green eyes otherworldly, sparkling. "I need you." His head dropped, then came up again, her hand beneath his chin, and he moved like butter, her thin emerald fingers the hot knife. Her wispy movements always had him enthralled with anything she did, and all she had to do was gesture her forehead in the general direction of the floor, and he was on his knees before her. He admired the way her skin deep roots would curl off like cursive. Hands on her hips, she stood with a smugness on her face, as the arched, slender foot, dangled before him, her control masterful of each toe, making each one just as important as the last as she twinkled them. He stared wantingly at it, then to her, begging for permission.
"Yes, you may service my feet, slave." With a non-violent kick forward, he grabbed her ankle with force and speed that nearly threw Ivy off her balance, but was relieved as he started kissing the bottom of them. Stiff yet bendy, he rolled around her small toes before they met the inside of his mouth. Moving from sucking on each individual toe, to a wide gapped face and a slorking noise as he took the brunt of her foot past his lips, he could feel the detritus scrape off in his teeth of dead skin spores, becoming a muck on his gums and tongue. She then wedged her toes together before forcing them downward in a dip, catching his tonsils, but not producing a cough or hack. That made Ivy very happy.
"Take out your pathetic little cock." She didn't even get a chance to put her foot back down when he was out for her. Her green sole pressed into it, close to crushing it, but also gentle, never going too far. Moving downward, all of her toes wrinkled up his balls, his scrote sliding down each of them individually, before she let it rest on foot, feeling the weight of his penis with lenient knocks upwards like it were a hacky sack. "Mmmmm... not as pathetic as I thought."
Her minty toes stroked up and down, and at first, it felt amazing, feeling it glide from her instep to her heel, but then she pinched his skin between her big toe and pointer toe, tugging him by it up and down, almost painful, causing him to squint and raise his pelvis higher, hoping it would be less irritated by shadowing her. Ivy was pleased making his frenulum stretch to its limit. Her head tilted, the corner of her lip raised. "I think you're ready." She let him go.
The leafy vegetables that covered her genitals lifted, and what was there came as total surprise: From her verdant body sprouted quite the tuber -- a mighty stalk that had to be measured in at eight or nine inches. The thick veiny green cock was unlike anything he had ever seen before, even in his own pants. Even when he hacked someones site and replaced every image with shemale porn as a joke, nothing was close. This was a beast in its own league.
A beast he wanted to tame, as it was attached to the woman he loved.
He needed both hands to hold it up, the foreskin peeling as it inchwormed in his hands, revealing the pink fleshy glow hidden underneath like a flowers petals, which was almost as slick as the rest of this place. He mooshed her spongy tip against himself, swiping it to and fro. A part of him was telling him 'no', and to 'stop', but every time he thought he thought he was capable of breaking away from her control, the intensity of her pheromones wafting from her dick brought him right back. He worshipped it now, rubbing it across his features and leaving snail trails of precum on his face. There was a smell of something sweet, like water and sugar, the smell getting deeper as he looked beneath her prick. Below her girth was her tomato sized orbs. He cupped them, juggling them in her smooth skin sack that hung as heavy as her breasts did. Those sweaty balls were made even sweatier in his grasp, as he played with them, making them slip between his digits as he worked over her oddly porous feeling skin.
He fed himself of it, gargling and slurping, knowing how to avoid using his teeth due to Ivy's intuition. Poison Ivy loved the look of partial confusion on his face as she ramrodded it into his mouth. She knew it quite well - part of him knew something was wrong, but he was so under her control, he couldn't do a thing about it -- except watch. She retrieved herself, having to pull his hair back to get him off totally. "Have you ever sucked a cock before, slave?" She asked with a hint of an insulting intonation he wasn't able to detect, thinking everything she did and asked was out of love.
The waterlogged half meat, half plant instrument slipped from his jaw. He shook his head, his lip slobbery and hungry. "No."
"You're doing very well.." Her tongue rolled and so did her words. Ivy stared down into the wanting eyes of her willing cocksucker, stroking his hair, looking proud of him, which gave him cause to double his efforts, spearing his throat onto it with a gag. Ivy threw back her head, as her toes curled into the rotting wood at the sensation of this mind controlled slaves lusty mouth. She even had to undo her top she was getting so hot, as she could feel her skin excrete, which also revealed how her solidly dark nipples contrasted with the lime skin of her now swinging breasts, loving the freedom they had, as she clutched her hands to herself, sucking in air through her teeth as she brushed the hardened buds in a palmed squeeze. "You'll be my personal mouth slave. Won't you like that?" He mumbled something over in agreeance, his spit bubbling up the length as he tried to talk. "Oooooh god, you little slut!" Her echoing double speak growled out, as she held him in place, his throat clogged completely.
The Rat was ripped away from her phallus of love, forced to watch as she yanked on his hair while jerking herself into his face. His tongue stabbed desperately for it, wanting it's warm presence again. Pamela normally wouldn't waste her precious seed on a puppet, but there was something about him that was different. In his delirium, he didn't flinch or blink as it landed across his nose, up the bridge and around his eyes. The toxin erupted from her reddened glans, looking like neon radioactive sludge, as it sputtered and popped -- the sweet smell from before intoxicating him fully, as he revelled in her spunk, treating it like soap and water and he were in a shampoo commercial, before licking it up wherever he could, as it tumbled in drips.
Ivy was all hot and bothered, swaying her body in place, her toes squishing, the balls of her feet curving, her heavy dick like an elephant trunk as opposed to the treetrunk it was -- but her juices quickly began flowing again, and Ivy turned her attention to two slim leaves, giving the same knowing gesture as she did the hacker, before watching them come to life, slipping and sliding on the floor like newly born appendages, as they grabbed him by the legs, spread eagling him in the air.
He didn't struggle or fight, eying her eagerly with a crook neck. She gave the elastics holding up his pants a yank down, and it sent a shiver up his spine as he felt her nails nearly scrape his skin. She admired his nudity only briefly, as Ivy had trouble even wielding her own shaft, before she gave it a shaking jerk while aiming it for his rosebud. The hard jade punched and prodded at his backdoor, as he tried to allow himself to be open for her. She bucked at him, their bodies fighting, even if it was unintentional. Some of her red hair came loose, matting to her forehead, as her green eyes nearly filled with madness as she couldn't find her way in, as she frustratingly wriggled herself against him -- but soon enough, it slipped in. His chin threw up, pointing to the roof, his mouth agape.
"Oh, are you a virgin?" She again offered up a mocking question she already knew the answer to.
"Uh huh!" He groaned out, almost crying.
It hurt. He knew it hurt.
Yet he still loved her for doing it, knowing she was doing it for his own good.
"Don't worry, it'll be over soon." She cackled into his ear. Ivy reached over and stroked his throat, reminding who was in charge, all while he moaned and whined, his voice higher with her hand on his vocal chords. Pressing her hand into his lower back, she made him arch, which made his already tight ass squeeze onto her like his life depended on it - and maybe it did. She planted kisses up and down his back, leaving behind heart shaped rashes, marking him. Ivy had raped her fair share of men, but nobody was like him.
With her solar plexus becoming taut with every thrust, the already skinny Ivy was made to look even skinnier -- which made the sight if it was ever seen by a third party even stranger. Ivy gripped tightly onto his hips as she got faster and faster, making the noise of his penis more apparent, as she loved the useless flopping nature of it. Ivy would never degrade herself to their level and offer them pleasure, and there was only one way her slaves could get their release, and it was through the passage she was currently plundering the depths of. Her ass wobbled and bounced before looking tight; her green asshole winking as she punctured the poor hacker. Her balls would occasionally manage to swing against his, reminding him further just how outclassed he was.
Letting him go, Ivy clapped her own cheeks, before opening herself wide, as Ivy summoned one of her lowly vines with the bulb head with a gyration of her ass. The snake-like plantlife penetrated her without care or question, forcing her eyes to shoot open, as her mouth hung agape, an uncharacteristic look on the sirens face, as it was one she liked to create on others instead, but one she didn't mind making as the sensation of Mother Nature taking control of her ass and going as hard and as deep as this thing was willing to take it, was worth every inch of pain as well as pleasure it delivered, its travels pressing her in all the right places.
It moved like a rope being fed into her, with almost the same amount of thickness, an odd momentum. "Ooh, ooooh... oooooh..." She let out a sharp breath with every forming of 'oh' by her crimson lips, being physically moved forward onto her tippy toes. Making her cock pulsate and twitch even harder and firmer inside the hacker's behind. With a clench of her asshole, she nearly chopped the weed in half, as it made her contort and writhe as much as he was. Her neck muscles strained before letting out a shout, as Ivy unloaded into him with a final plunge, her teeth gnashing as she delivered it deep down into his bottom. It was a filling feeling, like Ivy was filling his channel with love, a gift he accepted with all his being. Ivy removed herself, letting her near horse cock stumble out, now limp with a greasy look to it, as her oozing juices fell from his backside. She stared into it, almost voracious enough to devour his hole. Like gardening, the effort she put in was worth it. "Would you ever try to escape me?"
His ass winced, keeping her semen from exiting. "Never."
=========================
Catwoman sighed after thrashing the final goon in a long string of Ivy's many victims that had emerged from their pods to defend 'their ladies honor'. She hoped it was enough to knock some of them out of Ivy's spell, but she knew how powerful that stuff was.
Climbing the ceiling above, she made it to the floor she had fallen from, only to find a grotesque vision before her:
Ivy was mouthraping the poor kid, as she laid back casually, not moving a muscle. Even from where she was standing, Catwoman could tell that wasn't the Rat willingly doing it, as his cheeks were puffed out, all while he was throwing his face on her pike without concern for air.
Catwoman drew her whip like a revolver from its holster. "Let him go, Ive, your fights with me, remember?"
"You're right... but... since you brought me this succulent morsel... we'll call it even." Ivy said with a finger pushed against her lip, a look of absolute satisfaction on her face.
Catwoman was relieved at that... but seeing the young hacker mindlessly servicing the large green cock quirked her. She wasn't sure why. "Sorry Ives. You can't have him."
"And why not!?" Her anger faded, and to Catwoman's chagrin, Ivy put on that pouty lipped face of hers at the feeling of the hacker's tongue finding places he had never licked before. "I think he'd make a fine addition to my garden..."
"Considering how easily I worked over your little garden, I think it's unwise to have him in your stable." Catwoman flexed a clawed hand. "And, if I'm gonna break into Strange's vault, I'm gonna need him, and you're gonna need me to get your plant back." Catwoman tried to sweeten the pot. "It's your last one, right?"
Ivy was caught in a bind, as her eyes searched the room -- even her mightiness started to go soft at having to give the cat lady her due. "Alright, I'll remove my control on him. For now." With a limp hand, Poison Ivy willed him away from her shlong.
"My lady... why?" He asked in an offended haze.
"You're needed elsewhere. Go with her my dear." She ran a finger up his chest. "But don't be afraid to come back~"
"Ayyygh..." His caveman slur came along with a goofy look, happy that she wanted to see him again.
Poison Ivy turned to Catwoman in a downward angle, an insidiousness to it. "If I so much as sense his presence one more time, you'll never see him again."
"Got it." She nodded her head towards Ivy, then turned her attention to the hacker. "Come on you." Catwoman threw an arm of his over her shoulder, carrying him partially, his feet dragging, all while he annoyingly called for Poison Ivy, who fluttered her fingers his way.
Outside, getting a whiff of fresh air and burning steel, she waited with him, not wanting a zombie clambering for his 'love' on her back. Catwoman sat on her hind legs, watching him with his swirling neck. He came to, eventually. "Why does my throat hurt?" He asked hoarse while absentmindedly rubbing it. There was another part that hurt just as much if not more, but that might have been from him sitting at a computer all day.
Selina nearly blushed trying to think of the right words, unable to even look him in the eye.
She didn't have the heart to tell him.
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The Cat and The Rat