Poison Ivy Has Been Turning Rich, Decadent Assholes Into Plant People, and Convincing Stupid Drunk Sluts To Fuck Them

"...like you!" Poison Ivy finished.

"But that's...evil!" Lois Lane said, and she regretted how stupid those words were as soon as they left her mouth.

"Hmm. Maybe a little," Poison Ivy admitted, as she saw a man covered in great green leaves like corn stalks poke two phallic-looking cobs into a young woman's ass and pussy at the same time. "But I make money, the girls make money, the clients get to sow their wild oats..."

Aimee slumped to the floor, suddenly too heavy for Lois Lane. Ivy held the reporter up as her eyes went from one coupling plant-hybrid and his personal prostitute to the next. Here were the women who had gone missing. Here was the answer to the mystery that Lois had come to the club tonight to figure out.

Except...it was insane. Perverse.

"Have another drink," Ivy suggested, and a waitress was at Lois Lane's elbow, with a familiar-looking grey white cocktail.

The reporter took it, just to be polite. Brought it to her lips, just to taste it. Handed the empty glass back to the waitress before she realized she had drained it dry in a gulp...

"They're not prisoners, you know," Ivy said as she guided Lois to a couch that afforded a good view of the woman with a venus flytrap crotch. "You know these trust fund babies actually pay me to turn them into plant-hybrids? These are the most decadent of decadents, the ones who get tired of any orgy that doesn't break at least three laws of man or nature. If I didn't cater to them, they'd probably be out hurting actual innocent people and animals."

Lois Lane had no answer to that. She watched as a woman with breasts like literal cantaloupes held a woman to her teat as if she was nursing. Weird pale juice ran down chin of the woman sucking at her breasts. The reporter dimly recognized the suckling woman as Diana Reynolds, one of the women who had gone missing.

A thousand questions ran through the reporter's head, but Lois could feel her inebriation had deepened. Her body felt oddly loose and heavy. Thoughts came more thickly. Yet she managed to ask her most pressing question:

"Why show me any of this? I could expose you...ruin you. Superman or Batman would come down on you like a ton of bricks!"

Poison Ivy smiled as she laid a friendly arm around Lois Lane's shoulders.

"Because I'm about to wrap this operation up, my dear. This is the last hurrah, the final climax of this operation. I'm winding this whole business up and moving on to greener pastures. By tomorrow morning, this brothel will be gone, with no evidence it ever existed except for some rich perverts with plant parts and women who feel an odd desire to do unnatural things with vegetables on webcams. But I've told you all this because I need someone to entertain a very special client..."