A Poisonous Procedure.

"It's time, Bruce." Ivy said her voice getting sultry.

Descending from the Batcave's ceiling on a treetrunk like vine came a fleshy looking redflower, the size of a small car.

"Remove your suit." Ivy said, her voice almost hypnotically effective on Batman. He did as she compulsed him, taking off his Batsuit for the final ever time.

Now naked, he stood at attention, hands folded behind his back, waiting for his partner's next direction.

"Climb into the flower, Bruce, and be reborn!" Ivy moaned, cupping her tits.

Bruce obliged, climbing into the massive flower, with hoisted him into the center of the cave. He sat down on a ridge of plant, and waited for what came next.

"Now, I'm sorry lover, but this part... it's going to hurt. Badly." Ivy cooed, genuine sympathy in her voice along with the lust. "Nature can be pretty, but it can be savage, too.

Bruce tensed, then a second later, inch long thorns protruded inside the plant, a thousand nasty needles at once. Despite his near superhuman tolerance for pain, Bruce cried out. The barbs seemed to hold him in place, joined by vines like steel cables, pinning his arms, torso, legs to the inside of the flower.

"This next part will take everything, lover, but you mustn't pass out!" Ivy called. "If you do, there's a chance the transformation could take your mind."

Bruce had barely been warned before it continued. Every barb currently in him began spewing forth toxins, solutions, formulas, into his bloodstream. Everything a brilliant scientist like Ivy could devise.

At the very same time, golden sap began pouring into the flower from some unseen point above, hardening as it did, freezing Bruce in place like an insect in amber.

When it had frozen his knees in place, a mouthlike plant descended on a vine into the flower. It clamped painlessly around the former vigilante's hard cock, protecting it from the procedure, as well as giving him a soft, gentle, indirect blowjob.

The sap had risen to his shoulders now, the flower sagging from the weight of it as it hardened. Still, the thorns were injecting Ivy's concoctions into him. Another plant descended, locking around his mouth like a respirator, pumping him oxygen as the golden sap engulfed his head.

Bruce thrashed, surrounded, until the sap hardened completely and, encased, he found himself passing out.