In the Justice League Watchtower

With a soft grunt of discomfort, Ivy pulled an IV out of her arm, disengaged a catheter tube and bag that had been strapped to her leg. A grunt of disgust gripped the naked villain as she pulled a long tube from her nose...a feeding tube, she realized. She sat up, her limbs weary, as if from disuse, and stared about her.

The air had that airplane smell. Recycled, filtered, but still stale. A window looked out on a starscape, a bare sliver of blue-green Earth in the distance. Ivy sat on a table at the middle of the room...and on the tables about her, women that Ivy recognized. Cheetah stared vacantly at the ceiling, a thin line of drool from the corner of her mouth drenched into her fur, the black blossom between her breasts weighed her down. Mary Marvel, in a black dress, fidgeted in her psychically-induced sleep. Superwoman...the Enchantress...Punchline...naked, alive, but utterly lost in the dream-world of the Black Mercy.

Ivy was distracted by the tip-tap of approaching feet. In a heartbeat she lay back on the table, the IV held between her arm and body, catheter between her thighs, the quiescent black flower on her chest. With eyes lowered to slits she heard the tip-tap of a code, then the clunk of bolts retract...and the door opened. A pale green figure walked in, shorter and younger than Ivy, her red hair straight and chin-length, a little cape fluttered behind her.

Miss Martian. One of the Justice League...or the Titans. Ivy wasn't sure. Yet it meant that she was on the Justice League's Watchtower, their satellite headquarters. The slim alien moved to the nearest table and checked the level of the IV. Then something caught her attention. She twisted about on her heel, which made her small breasts jiggle and cape and skirt swirl, red eyes stared out.

"Who's there?" she said, and narrowed her eyes as she moved toward Ivy. "All these are dreaming, but I can...hear your thoughts..."

Which is when under Ivy's command, the Black Mercy latched onto her. The Martian staggered as the root-like tendrils burrowed under her clothes...and then she collapsed, as if suddenly boneless.

Luck, Ivy thought as she swung herself back up. It was an effort to move. To lift up the slim young woman onto the table that Ivy had just vacated. Limp as a ragdoll, the twenty-something Martian was dead weight beneath the blossom. Ivy grimaced as she carefully stripped Miss Martian of her costume. The young woman was shorter than Ivy...not as busty and slimmer of hip. The panties dug into Ivy's crotch, which was overgrown, and no better than a thong on her. The shirt was tight across her chest...but Ivy realized her luck, as she tweaked her skin to a slightly deeper shade of green. From a distance, perhaps, Ivy could pass for the Martian.

But if someone comes in here... Ivy chewed the thought...and then touched the Black Mercy that held the naked M'gann in its dreams. Through the plant, Ivy could see the dream. With a slight chemical tweak, Ivy could guide the dream...and suddenly Miss Martian was undercover, playing Poison Ivy in a sapphic fantasy. In response to these stimuli, the slim body swelled. The small green breasts grew rounder and more prominent, sagged a little to either side by their weight; the straight red hair crinkled and lengthened, the shape of the face changed.

Not a bad likeness. Ivy slipped catheters and IV back into place...but wasn't sure how best to get the feeding tube down her throat, and settled for tucking one end into a green nostril.

So. She was awake, she had a disguise...now the question was, whether Ivy should attempt to escape, or wake up any of the others?