End: Ivy Is Extracting Pheromones From Her Victims For A Line of Cosmetics

As Poison Ivy fought the Caped Crusader, and Ivy's security dealt with the crowd, the **** reporter slipped through the door...and was not surprised to find herself in a kind of greenhouse. Vines crawled across the ceiling, floors, and walls, as the plants greedily expanded to meet their mistress' needs.

Lois Lane wasn't concerned about that. It was the four figures that hung suspended in the middle of the room.

Lotus-flowers, so dark a purple as to be almost black, covered their faces. Pale green vines shot through with red veins entwined their limbs, so that the women hung freely from the ceiling, naked. They twisted gently, like dogs in their sleep, and Lois realized they were ****. Yet that didn't explain the small green pitcher-plants that cupped their pussies, and the smaller ones that were clamped onto their nipples.

The reporter's half-drunk brain strove to understand what she saw. The women moaned languidly, their bodies twitched...and then she caught sight of it. The pale green drop that oozed from one stiff nipple, to slide down the dark areola into the cup-like container latched onto it. Every drop of sweat, every drop of milk or pussy-juice, was being extracted from these women...and suddenly other things made sense too.

Some of the vines that encircled the naked women descended into stainless-steel pots. The reporter inched close and looked inside of them. One was full of a milky green liquid, another a pale, clear, liquid that smelled of salt; and a third was also clear, but had a locker-room reek.

"She's milking them," Lois Lane muttered aloud. "But why?"

Lois glanced around—and caught a glimpse of a table with a sheaf of paper. With a grin, the reporter stumbled over to the table. Ivy was too much of a nerd not to keep detailed notes, and too much of a luddite to use a computer. Old school paper records.

Enhanced pheromones. Raw materials for new cosmetics. Harvesting materials from donors (cows). Perpetual euphoric states. Risk of permanent brain atrophy. Acceptable losses. Aggressive extraction behavior.

The reporter's buzz faded as she digested the words, even though the paper seemed to swim in front of her. Ivy was into some nasty shit...and the reporter felt like it had only been by the grace of some benevolent Bat-god that she herself hadn't become one of Ivy's "cows."

Utterly unaware of the pale green vine that inched towards her across the floor...and then circled her ankle. The reporter frowned, looked down to stare at her entangled foot.

Then things happened very quickly.

The vine pulled hard. The reporter's leg shot out from under her, and she went down. The side of her head slammed into the tunnel. Shocked into quiescence, the reporter found herself hoisted into the air. Green vines descended from the canopy on the ceiling. Lois Lane swung back and forth and kicked as they slid underneath her clothes, to circle her other leg, her arm. Trying to best support her weight.

Desperately, head aching fiercely, thoughts fuzzy, Lois tried to swing harder. To grab ahold of one of the other women, or a vine, anything for some leverage. These green shoots were strong, but she could chew through them if she tried.

Then Lois saw the great purple-black bud that loomed before her face. Saw it open, with a puff of sickly-sweet narcotic pollen. Felt the soft petals cling to her face. She tried to hold her breath as long as she could. Tried to struggle as she felt her clothes split open. Something cupped her pussy, her nipples. Her lungs burned...

...but in the end, she had to breath. Had to expel the bad air and suck that soporific pollen into her lungs. When she did, her body went limp. A fifth form took its place among the vines.

Dimly, languidly, Lois Lane felt the pain and stress of her night out fade away. Her nipples itched. Her pussy was hot and wet. She blinked with incredibly slowness, utterly relaxed. Maybe, if she was lucky, the Caped Crusader would win. Someone would rescue her from this living ****. Then the first orgasm began. It rocked through her body with all the speed and strength of a glacier that carved out some ancient valley between mountains. Enormous. Unstoppable. Almost painful in its slowness. Inescapable.

Dimly, Lois Lane wondered if she would even want to be rescued by the time they found her.