Harley Quinn Saves Lois Lane...Sort Of

Lois Lane's internal scream hit a new register as potato-zombie drool drizzled inches from her coochie. The reanimated corpse had half-crawled onto the table, its head level with the reporter's thighs, sniffing and snuffling like a pig after a truffle. Inching closer to the reporter's pussy...

...when a giant wooden mallet smashed down on the potato-woman's head, crushing the skull like an egg, splattering the reporter with black, foul-smelling goo.

The bound reporter shivered and shook as a pale form in black-and-red checkered hotpants gymnastically twirled up and around, smashing potato-women with every stroke, the pale, corrupted bodies exploding in showers of nasty-smelling slime that made Lois want to wretch. More than ever, Lois wanted to scream...especially because she knew who was here to save her.

Harley Quinn. The Joker's ex-girlfriend. The pigtailed ex-Olympic gymnast, ex-psychiatrist, all-around nutjob. As dangerous and unstable as a vial of nitroglycerin.

With a dramatic flourish, Harley's hammer crashed through the last of the potato-women, and the Clown Princess of Crime swirled around and her tight little booty came down right on the reporter's abs. Lois Lane's eyes nearly bugged out of her skull, breath coming out in a single woosh as Harley settled the weapon, dripping with gore, across her trim, muscular shoulders. Lois looked up a the villain...who, beside the booty shorts, was wearing only a kind of sleeveless vest that showed off her modest cleavage. The nose scrunched up. The different-colored eyes met Lois Lane's. The painted lips set in a pout.

"I recognize you. You're Lois Lane! The Daily Planet's biggest cunt." Harley said, her voice a nasal New Jersey whine. "What are you doing down here tied up by my girlfriend? Shouldn't you be out simping for the big blue boyscout?"

Lois Lane's brows furrowed, not sure how to respond to that...or if she even could.