Poison Ivy

The green-skinned ecoterrorist strolled into the room with a confident and seductive sway, as if she was the guest of honor, not a criminal interloper. At her back was a small formation of cops and security officer. One glance at the armed men told Bruce they were under Ivy's thrall. It was something he'd seen many times.

"Rich and famous people of Gotham!" Ivy announced. "While you celebrate, revel, and devote yourself to meaningless causes, the Earth is dying! My babies and I have decided that for once your money will go towards its protection."

Glancing back at Kate, the two vigilantes surreptitiously moved closer to Ivy and her servants, ready to do something if the villainess' men started firing.

"Ivy, stop this, you're putting lives at risk," Bruce pleaded, moving to the front of the terrified crowd.

"If you think a few hundred pitiful human lives mean anything to me, Mr. Wayne, then you're truly as vapid as your reputation suggests." Ivy's emerald eyes had a wicked glint.

"But you're in luck. Killing you will be... quite unnecessary," Ivy smiled, before raising her arms.

Thick, powerful tendrils of vine crept into the ballroom, hugging the walls. They encircled the room, blocking off all the exits. Another vine, this one bearing an outsize pink flower, snaked along the floor, stopping roughly in the center, a few feet away from Ivy.

"You're all animals, Mr. Wayne. I'm just going to encourage you to act like it," Ivy sneered.

In a flash, the flower opened, bombarding the ballroom with sweet-smelling pink spores.

Without their suits and in-built gas masks, Bruce and Kate were as **** to the spores as the rest of the hostages, try as they might to hold their breath or cover their mouths.

Even as he felt the spores corroding his own inhibitions and willpower, the effects on the more susceptible patrons were plain to see. In a **** haze, the wealthy and powerful attendees ripped off their gowns and suits and began fucking.

As their minds gave in to Ivy's chemical temptation, nothing but **** animal lust mattered to the unfortunate Gothamites. Bruce could see the Li sisters grinding against each other, Mayor Hill joining in a gangbang of some unfortunate blonde. Much to Bruce's dismay, he even saw Vicki Vale, his old flame and tireless crusader against Gotham's corruption, eagerly get on all fours, lifting up her red dress for Oswald Cobblepot. The Penguin seemed as lost in carnal euphoria as any of the law-abiding guests.

Meanwhile, Ivy and her men roamed the ballroom, stripping the intoxicated revellers of their jewels, wallets, purses, even clothing in some cases.

And yet, Bruce was painfully aware of the hardness of his own cock. Ivy's sultry voice seemed to be within his skull.

Go on, lover. Join the party. You're not the Batman. Not tonight. All you are is a weak man with a hard cock! You're no better than the rest of them, give in Bruce, give in!

Bruce momentarily swooned. The sensation was persuasive, no doubt aided by whatever Ivy had sent into his bloodstream.

Kate was standing a few paces away, contemplating her next move but also visibly struggling with her lust.