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Brought Together update
🕑 Added 2016-08-15 06:07:19 +0000 UTC Pamela Isley was dreaming deeply, but was she a plant dreaming she was human or a human dreaming she was a plant?The dream was the same either way. She lay writhing, naked, spread-eagled upon her bed, awaiting the onslaught of the huge, throbbing, threatening cock poised between her legs. She lay trembling in her pristineness, which added to her terror; yet she was detached from it too. The plant dreaming of the human or the human dreaming of the plant, a disembodied spirit that heckled and screamed. ‘Fuck her! She wants it!’
The spirit was right. She did want it, yet she feared it. She had to be too small, it would split her in two. The cock was as thick and as long as her forearm.
A hideous laugh erupted from where the cock should’ve had a man to go with it, from the faceless face of a body without a body. He savagely battered her knees apart, then poised himself at her quivering, virginal, wanting lips. But when he lunged, there wasn’t pain, wasn’t pleasure, wasn’t whatever it should feel like when she was entered. There was nothing but frustration. The heat of her needing furnace melted his prick like wax, as fast as he drove it into her, and she awoke, panting, trembling, unfulfilled. The human having dreamt she was a plant.
What was happening to her? The last thing she remembered was experimenting with the Urzkartaga plant that had given the Cheetah her powers. She’d left Bruce in the lurch to do Luthor’s dirty work, having tipped herself well from his bank accounts, then she’d settled into a safehouse far away from both Gotham and Metropolis to conduct her experiments in peace. Then she’d felt faint, unable to focus, concentrate… no, she’d been able to concentrate. She’d pictured cock with the utmost clarity.
Yes. That’s what she wanted. A man, his maleness stuck inside her. But she was afraid. She was so terribly small and her experience deserted her in the face of the overwhelming ardor of this masculinity. What would it feel like? Painful? Pleasant? Could it be both?
Ivy allowed her fingers to explore herself. Her mons rose softly from her velvety stomach, a gentle hillock that then sloped down to her pouty sex. Ivy didn’t know if she could get at the ache—it had been there so long—since she’d heard of the Urzkartaga plant? But at least she could… oh yes.
She palmed her swollen cunt and gently rubbed in a circular motion, yes, yes. The warmth appeared slowly, by nudging and agitating the monster of her lust. She rubbed faster, harder. The warmth turned into a pleasurable glow, a luxurious blanket being drawn over her. Goddess! How could this be wrong? She lifted her splayed knees high, dancing her fingers over the hotness of her demand. It felt good… so good.
She slammed her fingers around the wet labia lips and felt the slippery silkiness of her vulva, oh goddess. Her cunt was alive. It was drawing her fingers in, begging her to soothe and ease the growling need within. She shouldn’t do it… she couldn’t… then, Ivy bit her lip. To hell with it. She had to try. She cautioned her finger in and felt for the craving so deep inside her.
The sudden pain made her wince and gasp. Her maidenhead? No, lost long ago—there’d been something on her hand… it didn’t matter now, it didn’t hurt anymore. She cupped her sex and rubbed frantically to restore the pleasure. Goddess! It felt good! Wonderful! The heat again turned to joy, to bliss, to rapture!
It’d been sap on the leaves of the Urzkartaga plant, she recalled, the thought popping into her head. She’d touched it and then she’d gotten light-headed. And she could’ve sworn the leaves were dry when she examined them…
She was going to come, praise the Goddess. She arched her back and lifted her flaming sex high and rubbed frantically to still the terrible itch inside her. It helped some, but she needed cock, sex, fucking. Oh! Oh! She clutched her teeth as the building ecstasy radiated from her wet, burning place to every fiber in her body. She was going to… to…
The sap was on her fingers as she touched herself.
She thrashed and bucked while rubbing wantonly at her need. Her head was slamming from side to side in ecstatic agony. “Goddess! Goddess!” She tensed, suspension, her whole body frozen except for her pressing fingers. Then the delicate bliss exploded, rocketed throughout her body and became so much more. Oh… God! She jerked from the spasm then collapsed back to the floor.
She was spent and drained but contented. She lay until she caught her breath, then rose reluctantly. She was satisfied, wasn’t she? The masturbation had stilled the embarrassing, mammalian urges within.
No. No, they hadn’t. The urges were growing out of her like a flower in bloom, having taken root deep inside. Become a part of her. She needed… relief. She needed to propagate.
She needed her wife.
***
Superman swooped in and saved her, each time more impossible than the last, and every time it happened, Lois’s heart stopped.
“Thought you weren’t coming,” she said, still a little gob-smacked.
“I’ll always be around to save you.”
There was an unspoken second half to that sentence; if only to save you. But there was no time to sound it out. “It’s Luthor, he’s insane. He orchestrated the bombing, the shooting, everything.”
“I know,” Superman said. “Listen, I want you to go with her—“
“Go with—“ Before she could even ask who, a woman came soaring down out of the sky. And then, it was irrelevant.
“Who’s this?” Lois asked. “Supergirl?”
“Not quite,” the woman said.
“She’s a friend,” Superman said. “And she’ll get you somewhere safe. I’ll deal with Luthor.”
***
A minute after that, Lois was in an apartment on the Lower East Side. She didn’t see how it was supposed to guard against Luthor—not that she expected him to be a problem after Clark was done with him—but given that she’d been flown there by the tallest woman she’d ever met, she was willing to take it on faith.
Five minutes later—four of them spent attempting to interview a stonewalling Amazon—Clark was back. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost, and Lois knew how many ghosts he had.
“He’s got my mother,” Clark said simply. “She’s hidden somewhere in the city. He wants me to kill Batman.”
Diana looked away. “He’s a good soldier. We can’t afford to lose him.”
“And it’s wrong,” Lois pointed out.
Diana eyed her.
“He’s supposed to have resources,” Clark reasoned. “I’ll go to him, see if I can get his help.”
“No, he won’t listen to you. I’ll go. You look for your mother.”
“Diana, he’s not rational. He may try to hurt you.”
“He won’t,” Diana declared.
“You know him that well?”
“I know how hard I am to hurt.”
***
Batman waited. Tonight was the night, he knew. No more gathering evidence. No more debate. No more second chances. He was ready—it was happening.
He hadn’t expected the woman, but seeing her fly down, he let out a wary grunt of acknowledgment. Immortal, powers. It made sense. A part of him wondered if she posed the same threat as Superman—required the same reaction as Superman—but another part of him refused to follow that line of thought. It was just Superman. Only Superman.
“Come to shut me down?”
“Come to recruit you,” she said, walking toward him. His thumb hovered upon the control panel to the ultrasonics—Alfred was right—anger—hard to listen—but he forced control. He didn’t know where the rage come, not flowing out of what Superman had done, just spreading like electricity through water. The thought that Superman could’ve sent her…
“I’m not a joiner.”
“It’s Luthor. He’s kidnapped someone close to Superman. He’ll kill her if he doesn’t kill you.”
Bruce was taken aback, but only for a moment. More important things—his anger—more important. “So why isn’t he here?” Was this a trick, distraction, trap? She was in range of the guns. Do it, hit her, kill her now!
“Because he’s looking for her. As we will. I don’t believe you’ll let an innocent woman die, even to spite one you call guilty.”
She was lying, they all lied, Superman most of all, and she was working with Superman… “Bring him here!”
She looked at him sadly. “This is not you. You cherish protecting the innocent over punishing the guilty.”
“I’ve never met anyone as guilty as him before,” Bruce gritted out.
“That is not your truth,” Diana said, and went for the lasso on her girdle…
***
Not enough time, never enough time, not for him, not for his father, not for him and Lois, not for him and Diana, and now not for his mother, his mother…
Diana dropped in beside him, somehow managing to keep up with him even as he flew at the very limits of his speed. “I’ve talked with the Batman. Your mother’s being held in the warehouse district, 48th & March?”
“Is she alright!?” Clark demanded.
“She’s fine. You get her out, I’ll deal with the captors,” Diana said, and Clark almost wondered if she was more offended by men who’d raise a hand against a defenseless woman or against men who’d threaten the family of someone she cared for.
But then he almost chose not to care, as he swooped down and divebombed the warehouse, scooping up his mother in his arms, and taking her far away from all the fear. He left Diana and the sounds of her violence in his wake.
***
Diana had given him the address for where Lois was waiting, and he dropped Martha off expecting that he’d have ample time to comfort her, with Diana and Batman handling the crisis. He wasn’t expecting her to have collected herself by the time he landed.
“Clark,” Lois said, “it’s the wreckage of Zod’s ship, it’s powering up, gotta be Luthor—“
“My mother—“ Clark began, but Martha had taken a deep breath and now she was talking.
“I’m fine, boy. Get over there and whoop him something fierce.” Then she looked over at Lois. “Or d’ya wanna stay here and tell me how you let her get away?”
“I’ll be right back,” Superman said, almost feeling himself smiling again.
***
“All these years saying prayers and you’re the closest thing to an answer, you really think you’re enough? You’re a smokescreen, cape, a red herring—“
“Save it, Luthor,” Clark said. He didn’t feel like smiling anymore. “It’s a bit early to try for an insanity plea.”
“I’m sane!” Luthor cried, backing through the debris of his downed spaceship. “I’m making the world sane! Don’t you feel it—you were meant to die here. This is where your end begins. Your Doomsday…”
Clark looked around. Throbbing power, rushing pipes—something was being born out of Luthor’s madness. He could hear the computer announcing it. Seventy percent complete.
He decided that was as far as he wanted Luthor to get.
His heatvision lanced out, carrying with it all the pain, the hate, the frustration, the anger. It roared through the ship like a forest fire, cutting off the experiment from its nutrients, from its yellow-sunlight generators, and then singeing it into ashes. Luthor cried out like a castrato as he watched it be sifted into dust, darkening the nutrient-waters even as they evaporated.
Afterward, the corpse of the ship was a skeleton.
Superman laid his hand on Luthor’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Then he remembered what Diana said—how Batman had been acting strangely, his body twisted to force his mind down a certain path, only her lasso able to make him see reason. He trained his eyes on Luthor and focused…
***
“A cave?” Clark asked. He was inside it and he was still dubious.
“It was convenient,” Batman replied.
The odd part was that Diana was taking it in stride as much as the vigilante was. “Where else would you expect to find a bat?”
“A bunker? Some sort of fallout shelter? A room? In your mansion?”
Batman snorted. “You don’t know me well enough to mock me.”
“Pretty sure I do—“
Diana coughed. “If you don’t trust us, why reveal all this?”
“Twenty years of a crusade have built a crime-fighting apparatus, trust, goodwill. If Luthor could use that to turn me into a weapon, others can too. It’s better if I have… failsafes.”
“Like you’re a failsafe to us?” Superman demanded. He’d had enemies before. Never been invited over by one of them, though. It took some getting used to.
“Yes,” Batman answered remorselessly.
“So is this whole thing a way for you to scout out our weaknesses?”
Batman looked at him. “I know your weaknesses already. It’s a way for me to find out if I should use them. Wonder Woman said you had information.”
Superman walked to the Batcomputer. As high-tech as it was, one of the drawers held pen and paper. “When I X-rayed Luthor, I saw something in his cellular structure I haven’t seen before. I told the Metropolis PD to put him in quarantine when they arrested him…” Moving at superspeed, he quickly sketched the oddity from memory, then handed it to Bruce.
He recognized it instantly. “Ivy,” he almost growled. “So she was working for Luthor.”
“Or Luthor was working for her,” Diana pointed out. “From what I’ve heard, it’s hard to tell the difference with a woman like that.”
“We need to find her,” Batman said. “Now.”
“You think, what, that this is all some distraction from her master plan?” Clark asked.
“I don’t think anything. But I know that Luthor’s caught and Ivy is still on the loose. What does that tell you?”
***
Belle Reve Maximum Security Prison no longer offered maximum security. It no longer offered any security, not with Ivy walking the halls.
The thing that had dreamed it was Ivy… or the god Ivy was dreaming she was.
“Red! You came to visit!” It was enough to make Harley forget her pouty disinterest, her attempts to freeze out the guards until they played nicer, and go back to bouncing around and scratching at the bars of her cage like she’d just gotten a letter from her Puddin. “It’s been so long, missed ya tons, so much to tell you! We got new ketchup in the cafeteria and there’s a handsome new inmate and one of the guards has lice. Lice!”
Ivy ran her hand over the bars of Harley’s enclosure as she walked by, trancelike and disconnected, like a dandelion seed being blown along in the wind. She did not appear to hear Harley.
“Ain’t ya gonna let me out? You’re not still mad, are ya? I have been really good, so if you let me out, I can be good for you too! Or if you want me to be bad—I know you like bad…”
As she passed the door to Harley’s cell, Ivy casually reached out, grasped the lock, and crushed it in her hand.
“Oh momma! Dem’s some upgrades!” Harley cried, letting herself out and politely closing the door behind her. “You go all Monsanto all yourself? Usin’ a new grade of fertilizer? Ya playin’ music to yourself while you grow, what?”
Ivy kept walking. Harley trailed behind her, keeping up the barrage of verbiage, her target no more noticing than a flower would notice its thorns.
***
Barbara Minerva was giving herself a bath when Ivy arrived to claim her. The dingy jumpsuits the prison provided agitated her fur, so whenever the guards weren’t around, she went without. She’d learned to enjoy the new her, the body her god-husband had given her, with its strength, its powers, its claws, its mane. She only wished Superman hadn’t captured her before she’d gotten a chance to really put it through its paces. Instead she was locked up, caged, denied,
On the other hand, she was free of Urzkartaga and his demands. Here, far from his plant, she had lapsed in her worship. Even if her coat had grown dull and flat, her claws blunt, her fangs white instead of red with blood. She wondered which would’ve driven her insane first: staying outside and giving him his sacrifices, or being inside and having nothing, not even obedience.
Then the door to her cell ripped away—vines growing through the hinges, clawing them apart. The world outside was bisected. The way Ivy had come, the floor was torn asunder, fresh growth sprouting through, flowers and pollen and that pixie little jester who went around almost as naked as Barbara was. Then, the way Ivy was going, more concrete, more grayness.
Ivy didn’t liberate it yet. She turned and walked into the Cheetah’s cell.
“Hello wife,” she said, her voice barely her own. “How do you like my new vessel?”
“Urzkartaga?” Barbara murmured. “What… how…?”
“Is that any way to greet your husband?” Ivy stepped inside, plucking away the tatters of cloth that barely clung to her form in the first place. But they’d been enough to hide the erection she now displayed—a pistil emerging from petals, a thick and powerful cock better suited to her lusts than any she had ever known.
“You’re married?” Harley cried. She poked her head through the door. “Wow! That’s some pussy!”
“Our marriage is no longer a spiritual fiction, little clawling,” Ivy said. “At long last, it will be consummated. I will enjoy your body, just as you have.”
“Escape first,” Barbara said. “We need to get out of here before more guards show up!”
“If more come, more will see my power,” Ivy replied. “You are blessed to be the first.”
She was stroking herself, or the part of herself that dreamed it was Urzkartaga.
Barbara blushed almost hotly enough for it to be seen through her fur. “You mean… do it in front of them?”
“They can watch, as I once watched,” Ivy said nonchalantly. “They can know the pain of seeing you but not possessing you.”
“After we leave, please! You don’t know the modern world! There are forces that can resist you!”
“There are none that can resist, least of all you. You will be shown the pleasure of being my bride.”
Barbara’s blush faded, turning pale now, and she started to back away. “My love… my love… now just wait…”
Vines burst from the cracking floor and drew her down, spread-eagled, as Harley grinned wickedly watching. Barbara struggled to get loose, but the vines were too many, too strong. It was not Ivy’s power. It was Urzkartaga’s.
“Relax, my wife,” Ivy said. “Harley, hold her still. This will hurt almost as much as it satisfies.
Harley knelt beside the spread-eagled woman, ogling her enormous breasts with their light-brown fur downy and soft. Cheetah’s breasts were almost as big as Ivy’s. She felt saliva rush to her mouth as she bent low over her.
“Relax, pretty kitty. Just enjoy it.”
Barbara was far from relaxing, but she felt a sharp buzz of pleasure as Harley sucked her left nipple. She took the whole thing into her mouth, lashing and tickling it with her tongue, bathing it in warm saliva. Harley sucked loudly, lewdly, with no self-consciousness, and that more than anything excited Barbara. She closed her eyes, afraid they’d reveal the intense pleasure she felt as this stranger sucked so noisily on her nipple. She wished they were alone. She felt so inhibited with an audience.
Ivy forced her legs apart, parting the fur to expose the bright, moist scarlet of her sex. She went belly down between those long, shapely legs and pressed her mouth to Barbara’s womanhood. Her tongue snaked out, tickling the ultra-sensitive clit.
“Oh God!” Barbara gasped. She hadn’t been able to suppress that cry when the powerful, unexpected pleasure hit her. Nothing excited her more or got her more quickly aroused than having her clit toyed with.
“Yes,” Ivy replied. “I am your god.” Her tongue, rough and wet and expert, teased the little red button swiftly, and Barbara felt her whole body melting in lustful enjoyment.
“I think it’s working!” Harley said gleefully. She was still holding Barbara down, looking enviously at the woman’s huge thrusting breasts. She wondered if Your-cart-bag-a had made her body so voluptuous and richly curved. Maybe he could do the same for her. Her Puddin would love a set of double-D’s on her…
She couldn’t resist reaching out and touching Barbara’s breast, finding out what it would feel like for Mistah J if Ivy did enhance her. It was a fistful, alright, hot and swollen and deliciously soft. No wonder men got off on fondling the things. She ran her hand over the big fleshy globe, stroking, caressing. It was as good as hers! Maybe even as good as Red’s...
Ivy’s hand joined hers. There was room for both on Barbara’s mountainous breast. They both explored the lush contours, Ivy with self-satisfied gratification, Harley with awe and almost-innocent curiosity.
Then the room was once more filled with lewd, wet noises as Harley returned to sucking ravenously on Barbara’s nipple, and Ivy sucked on the wet little seed of her clit, blooming it into ecstasy. Barbara was having a terrible time controlling herself, suppressing her cries of delight, keeping her body still. With her breasts being expertly fondled and sucked, with Ivy tonguing all over her aroused and untouched sex, there was no way she could fail to enjoy it.
And to her mortification, Barbara came violently all over Ivy’s face. And then it was over for her. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she was fucked. Her lust had gone beyond her power to control.
Ivy raised her wet face, smiling. “I don’t think you need to be held any longer, do you?”
The vines backed off, releasing Barbara, but they kept close, fawning over the woman as Ivy fingered her cock. It was completely erect now, huge and thick and rosy, with translucent sap dribbling from its big purple head. Everyone seemed to be looking at Barbara’s exposed sex.
She felt dizzy with embarrassment—and lust. She just had to have her husband’s big beautiful dick. Just looking at its stiffness made her want to cream again. But there was Harley’s face grinning down at her, and all the others she knew were close at hand, listening, trying to sneak a peek…
She felt paralyzed. She couldn’t bring herself to cooperate, yet she couldn’t leave, couldn’t pass up what Ivy offered. Her husband reached for her and she moaned. She was being turned over, onto her belly, and she didn’t resist.
“Yeah! Go Ivy, go!” Harley said eagerly. She watched wide-eyed as Ivy’s enormously swollen phallus approached the lush wet cleft of Barbara’s pussy.
Ivy eyed her target, an invitingly shadowed portal like a tree’s shade in summer. It seemed to grasp and nip with eagerness as Ivy played her cockhead over it. But her attention was elsewhere—on the tight brown clutch of her anus.
Barbara had had other men besides Urzkartaga—but none of them had had her ass. It would be just as good as the virginal femininity that should’ve been his. Ivy put the slippery knob of her cock against the tight little anus. Then she pushed.
“Husband!” Barbara yelled. “No, no… not there!”
Harley was surprised too. She thought Ivy had gotten the wrong hole. Then she realized how tight that little asshole would be for Ivy, and she shivered with horny delight as she thought how crazy it would feel to a woman. When Barbara tried to crawl away, Harley held her.
Ivy pushed steadily against the tightly wrinkled hole of Barbara’s rectum, finally managing to shoot into her with a popping noise, sliding quickly into her depths. Ivy groaned as she sank clear to her balls in exquisitely silken snugness.
Barbara wailed.
Her cry was half fear and half pleasure. To her wonder, it didn’t hurt at all, though she could’ve sworn her narrow asshole was stretching. When she found herself suddenly and completely stuffed with fat cock, she was astonished to find out how good it felt. Her pussy churned furiously…
“Yessss!” Ivy keened. “As tight as a virgin should be…”
She began to ass-fuck the Cheetah, working her rigid meat slowly, almost lazily into the fiery passage. It was better than she’d ever dreamed. She herself had never been so deliciously tight in her entire life.
Barbara whimpered softly and worked her asshole around its rigid impalement. It felt so good, she couldn’t control herself any longer. She didn’t mind the audience anymore. “Ooooo, yes, husband!” she crooned. “Yesss, fuck my ass! It feels good now! Uuuhhh, Jee-zuz, do it to me! Fuck my ass! It’s good, husband, really good…”
Before Ivy’s amazed gaze, Barbara’s tight ass began to churn encouragingly, taking her long hard cock eagerly inside. Urzkartaga had actually despaired of ever enjoying his wife as she deserved to be enjoyed. Now they were like newlyweds, writhing excitedly against one another, their position as obscene and unnatural as their joining. But she was submitting to him and that was all that counted. Once, he had thought it a pox that his bride was such a slattern. Now he was learning to appreciate her boundless sexuality. She could learn to enjoy anything. And she would.
“My cock feels good as it fucks your ass. I’ve never felt anything like this opening of yours. I intend to enjoy on many occasions to come.”
Having said that, Ivy fucked faster.
“Hurry, damn you, hurry!” Barbara pleaded. “I can’t… take much moooore!”
“Be silent and enjoy it, my whore!” Ivy hissed. The words were harsh in her throat. She was gasping for air. Her hips were flying like a piston as she tried to dig even deeper into Barbara’s hole.
The action of their bodies together brought Barbara off. She felt Ivy’s cock surging up into her rectum. Squeezing gently around the buried shaft was enough to send electric tingles throughout her body. But it was the sheer power of being sodomized that sent her flying off into orbit, her climax seizing control of her senses.
“I never thought it could be like that!” she panted when her orgasm had swept through her. “Never thought, mmm, oh, I… I’m going to come again!”
And she did.
Ivy came with her.
And Harley watched. Beginning to grow jealous.
What was wrong with her white ass, anyway?
