Fever dreams... Fever realities.

Tossing and turning in his bed, Bruce Wayne’s eyes shifted in his sleep, a cold sweat over his face and forehead as he struggled through a lucid dream…

He was fast, faster that he could ever remember being able to run. All around him stood a deep and lush forest that surrounded him, with trees so tall and wide they nearly blocked out the moonlight shining overhead. Yet despite this, he could see everything around him as clear as mid day. How he noticed the remains of a police cruiser crushed and gnarled, buried under the roots of one massive tree. Or the crumbled pavement under his clawed feet, where the remains of a stop flight flickered and died. Even the many bones of people long dead hidden just barely under the growth of plant life reaching out through cracks in the ground. Perking up his head to the sound of howls in the distance, Bruce caught himself doing the same, rushing towards the source of the howl with the same speed as any sports car he had in his collection.

Darting past one tree after the other, Bruce amazed himself when he leapt to the air and started crawling up the slope of what appeared to be a cliff face, until he noticed certain cliff edges had cracked and broken glass. Quickly making his way up the ruins of a what had to have been a skyscraper, Bruce crouched and perched over its peak to look over the view of the forest. It was then Bruce realised where he was.

Gotham… Or what was left of it.

The city was destroyed, crushed and overtaken by plant life, completely devoid of any life save the howling he heard in the distance. Massive hundred-foot trees filled the streets, obscuring its surface and blanketing the city in lush green. Many trees and vines crawled and draped over the surface of the taller buildings like the mountain side he thought he was climbing. Up in the sky, the night was clear and open. With the street lights dead, the night sky was bright with millions of stars, along with the soothing white glow of the full moon shining down on the forest canopy of the city.

Off in the distance he could hear more howling, blurs of movement that caught his sharp eyes in the distance. Packs of wolves stalked what used to be his city, massive creatures that rivaled the size of a horse scouring the ruined streets for sport, for the hunt. Another bout of howls caught Bruce’s attention once again, this time closer. Jumping down from the fifty-story ledge to land on his feet on the streets below, his impact crumbled concrete before he dashed on all fours. Like a blur he ran, darting between tree trunks and the remains of a city bus where the howling grew louder. When he turned a street corner he found them. At least four giant wolves chasing a man through the ruins of Gotham city, unlike Bruce who ran with all his might to find them, the pack of wolves took their time, moving fast enough to keep up with the panting crying man but never fast enough to over taken him.

They were playing with their prey.

Joining shoulder to shoulder with these wolves, they regarded him briefly before continuing to stalk their prey. Massive and powerful, Bruce could notice tiny scraps of cloths that still clung to their bodies; a tattered yellow cape no bigger than a bandana on one, the scrap of purple over the shoulders of a female beside him. They were totally unknown to him, yet strangely familiar. Eventually he grew bored of the chase, the need to sink his teeth into warm flesh could no longer be ignored any longer. Taking the lead, Bruce increased his pace and attacked.

In slow motion, Bruce watched the panicked human turn around, reacting to a snarling howl that caught his attention. To Bruce’s horror, the face of the man that turned to look back in the split-second Bruce bit into his neck, was the pale, shocked face of his butler Alfred Pennyworth.

*

“ALFRED!”

Sitting up from his bed, Bruce found a delicate finger press against his lips and a soft voice whisper a ‘Shhhhhh…” before nudging him back down to rest on his pillow. Looking up from his position, Bruce Wayne found he was no longer alone in his room. Their laying on top of him and pursing her lips into a soft yet cruel smile was Pamela Isley.

“It’s a good think I caught you waking up, it wouldn’t have been as entertaining if you had died in your sleep.” Tracing her finger over Bruce’s lip, Poison Ivy gave the illusion of warm affection, but Bruce knew better. Right now, he was in mortal danger. Even being in the same room with Ivy was dangerous without medical precautions. She was making physical contact with her bare hands.

I had a… Wonderful visit with acquaintance tonight, all over a lump of bronze my friend took from you for payment for a ‘fun’ time.” She husked, exuding allura the entire time she lounged on top of Bruce. “Harley means well but I don’t think she properly understand the scope of payment.” Sitting up and straddling the man under her, Poison Ivy delicately pulled away the bedsheet to have more access to her prisoner. Already Bruce could feel a fever kick in, his body temperature spiking with his immune system going haywire. He had seen many of Poison Ivy’s victims after she was done with them; blistered, covered in rashes and poxes like a plague victim. Gently rubbing her hands over his chest and shoulders, he tried to reach up and push her off him but with the visit to the greenhouse and his fight from earlier, coupled with Ivy’s toxins he barely had the strength to push her off him let alone off the bed.

With a soothing chuckle the woman brought the back of her hand to her pursed lips in amusement. “I can’t take my dissatisfaction on the Dark Knight… Wherever he may be, but at least I can take some amusement out of you.”

Gasping for air, Bruce was burning up, he was helpless, and looking up all he could see was the smiling visage of the stunning lethal beauty leaning down to give him a kiss. The moment her lips touched his, Bruce’s eyes went blurry, his heart pounding in his chest. Wrapping his arms around the woman’s waist, Bruce tried to push her off him but could only muster the strength to grip at her waist. Pulling up from the kiss, Poison Ivy frowned. By now he should be dead, his skin breaking into hives, instead the man in her clutches gasped and held her close. “Hmm… You should be dead by now.” Leaning down for another, she drove her tongue into his mouth, kissing Bruce passionately. Her hands roamed over his chest and shoulders, moaning into his mouth before pulling away and becoming even more distraught. “No, this cannot be!” Still straddling the man under her, Pamela Isley noticed a bulge form under her, knowing instantly that with Bruce’s heart threatening to explode in his chest, his blood pressure and her presence was forcing an erection to form.

Without a word save the look of defiance on her pouting lips, Poison Ivy undid Bruce’s pants and pulled free his erection, gripping his length between her delicate fingers and aiming him between her legs when she pulled aside the bottoms to her moss-covered costume. The moment she plunged down onto his length, her eyes fluttered, and her finger nails dug into Bruce’s shoulders. He should have been dead, dead twelve times over! Yet Bruce continued to struggle to stay alive, even with the green skinned nature goddess starting to rock on top of him, breathing just as hard as he was. “Why aren’t you dead? There’s nothing special about you, NOTHING!” Pulling down her costume to free her perfect green breasts, she smothered his face in her cleavage in between bouts of kisses to the man’s lips, becoming more passionate and yet also more ****. Tears started to form in her eyes, her cool confidence cracking under the overstimulation and the defiance of her victim. “I’m poison! POISON! No one survive me, NO ONE!” Moaned the woman, feeling Bruce’s hands roam over her flanks and up her back and sides. Tossing her hair with both her hands, Pam nearly lost her balance when Bruce was pulled forward to embrace her and she wrapped her legs around him. Losing herself in the moment, hot tears streamed down her smooth green cheeks when her orgasm finally crashed through her. Arching her back and falling backwards, Poison Ivy held onto Bruce Wayne with a **** grip, wrapping her arms and legs around him tightly while she rode out her first orgasm in what had to have been the first since she changed into what she was

Panting and feeling his vision clear, Bruce Wayne looked down to see Poison Ivy sobbing underneath hum, still holding onto the man for dear life. The moment their eyes locked on each other, Pamela Isley leaned up and kissed him on the lips with the same passion as a lover.

“But this time she meant it.