Epilogue: The Whoremonger Plans Her Next Move

By day, Lois Lane, crusading reporter.

By night, the Whoremonger, madam of the hottest brothel in Metropolis.

Police interest in the club and its operations evaporated within a week; those few male officers not susceptible to bribery quickly succumbed to the Whoremonger's other charms. With her protections in place, it was time for Lois to consider expanding her operations...and bring all of Metropolis' prostitutes under her control.

"Which is why I've come to you, ladies." The Whoremonger smiled, setting down her empty cocktail glass.

Her guests sat across from here at the great wooden desk in what had once been Blaze's office. Lois had kept the furnishings, right down to the classical nude paintings, but paranoia had her plant a few surprises here and there for her guests.

She had kept the long flowing loin-cloth, and the jacket. But her t-shirt had been replaced with a bustier, the W symbol supporting and displaying her breasts, and she had adopted a black half-mask to better conceal her civilian identity. Lois had also started to consider getting a breast augmentation, even a wonder bra simply did not give her sufficient cleavage to really carry off this costume.

"Like, I don't get it WM," Harley Quinn said. "Why come to us? Metropolis is a long way from our turf, and turnin' tricks ain't exactly our game."

The clown-painted young woman was dressed in her black-and-red harlequinn outfit tonight, a giant wooden hammer balanced across her shoulders. Her partner, who wore a green leotard and a series of vines, was even more forceful.

"If you want to hire us to take out a rival or something, I warn you that we don't come cheap."

Lois smiled. She had been watching the ladies carefully, and was already seeing signs of her powers taking effect: a gentle blush across their faces, nipples hardening, a certain fidgeting in their seats.

"I have my own abilities ladies, more than sufficient to take care of rivals. No, what I'd like is for you to join my organization. As my lieutenants, we can ensure a better life for these sex workers—no **** from customers tolerated, treatment for disease and unwanted pregnancy, childcare, no interference from police—and once we lock in the market, we can raise prices."

Lois stood up and leaned over the desk. "Our public face will be as a union! Legitimatization of sex work. Which comes with licensing, fee collection, taxation. All of which we can control."

The Whoremonger's lips peeled back in a wider smile. "Needless to say, you'll be seeing better and more regular paychecks than robbing armored cars."

Sweat was beginning to pour down Harley Quinn's face. Several of Ivy's vines had begun to send forth small blooms.

"I...I got to talk about this...with Red for a moment," Harley said, voice a little shaky.

Lois smiled.

"Of course! I'll let you ladies confer while I go powder my nose."

She shut the door behind her, then leaned against it. The seat of her chair was wet, her pheromones still working. It had been hard work, this last month or so, exploring her powers. At first she thought that only men were susceptible to her charms...but then she found that women could be too.

Especially if, like those two, they were already lesbians or bisexual.

Hardly had the Whoremonger left the room when Harley pounced on Poison Ivy, pushing her tongue past those poison lips, hands tearing at the vines covering her body. Her redhaired lover fumbled with the clown-girl's pants, trying to expose her pussy...and in the hallway, Lois Lane listened in, one finger sliding down to her dripping cunt.

"Red...you gotta...you gotta do that thing..." Harley grasped. "I...I fucking need it..."

"I need it too," Ivy said, hands fumbling as something green and woody extended from her pussy. If any onlookers had been a fly on that particular wall, they would have seen something like a dark green cucumber grown from the cleft between Poison Ivy's thighs—some unspeakable botanical advance—but only for a moment, for as soon as the sprout was out of her pussy, Harley Quinn was on it.

Lithe and acrobatic, the clown-girl took Ivy to the floor, the redhead's vines sending out little roots into the carpet as the pale buttocks bounced and ground on the double-ended cucumber dildo. One hand rubbed furiously at her clit as the painted woman danced on her lover, Ivy's hands tearing at the carpet, moving in tandem.

It was a primal, urgent need for both of them, biological clocks shot into overdrive, and they came with a twin pair of yells that Lois didn't have to lean against the door to hear. The Whoremonger frigged herself quietly, hoping they'd have a few moments to chat so that she could finish before it was time to talk business again...

"Fuck, Red...I don't know what got into me. Just all that talk of...prossies..."

"There's something in the air," Ivy panted, willing the vines to regrow over the torn portions of her costume. "I think we're being influenced. This 'Whoremonger' may be more dangerous than we thought."

"So you think we should take her out?" Harley found one of her pigtails had come undone, and began to fix it. "Fuck, I could almost go again..."

"Me too," Ivy noted, staring up at the ceiling, and a fair if graphic rendition of the classic Leda and the swan motif painted there. "I think we should...keep an eye on things. For a little while. If this operation is as ambitious as it sounds, there's going to be a lot of money to be made."

"...an' if we're on the inside, we'll know where and when. Genius, babe!"

In the hallway, Lois stifled a little moan, body shivering. She brought her fingers out of her pussy and licked her juices off of her lips. They were plotting to doublecross her, of course. But their priorities would change when Lois initiated phase two of her plan...and got both of these bitches "in the family way."

"I'll bet they care a great deal more about childcare then!" The Whoremonger said, and indulged in a maniacal laugh. But just a very small one.