Epilogue: Blaze's Suicide Squad: Seventh Mission

"So like, I open my eyes and one of her venus flytrap things is sucking my dick!" Harley said as she reloaded. "I didn't even know they could do that!"

"I'm surprised Ivy can't sell those. Fire in the hole!" Blaze screamed the last line as she quickly turned and stood, her arms straight, palms outward and turned toward each other, fingers curled. Black lightning burned from in a dark line that vaporized whatever was in its path—in this case, the torsos of half a dozen soldiers between her and her target.

The tank staggered to a halt as dark energies crackled over its frame, the engine sputtering and dying as the electrical components were burned out. The armor grew red...and then orange...and finally white, the steel liquefying around the beam...and then with a kind of sigh the dark energies burst straight through and out the other side.

It exploded satisfactorily.

Harley popped up from cover, aimed and fired. The few soldiers still crawling toward Blaze erupted as six well-placed shots slammed through skulls.

"It's the teeth," the clown princess of crime explained. "Ivy can keep them from biting my dick off, but apparently only when she's there to tell Seymour not to chow down."

Blaze shook her hands, which had begun to smoke. She surveyed the battlefield. Nothing walked or crawled between them and their target in the bunker.

"That would be a problem," the demon said. "Come on, let's finish the job."

Twenty-Four Hours Earlier

"...Flagg and Katana are off on personal leave, and Captain Boomerang is in the hospital..." Amanda Waller said.

"I told him what I would do if he tried that dildo-boomerang on me," Killer Croc growled.

"...so I'm putting Blaze in field command for this mission."

Blaze sat up a little straighter. Harley punched her in the shoulder.

"Your target is Colonel Joachim Jeroboam." Waller clicked something on the computer, and the slides advanced to show a dark-skinned man in a military uniform. "American, at least initially. Got religion, joined the mujahideen in Afghanistan. Specialized in smuggling arms, ****, with the Russian black marketeers. When ISIL arose in Syria, he went down to join them. Didn't get along with the leadership because instead of destroying ancient antiquities he'd sell them. Basically kept the Syrian Civil War going at least six months longer than it should have been. After the collapse, tried to move into mercenary work, but nobody in the Middle East would trust him so he moved into Central Asia...persona non grata in just about every country you can name. Now he's trying to buy his way into North Korea..."

Click slide.

"...with this."

The helmet was familiar, fully covering the face except for two holes for the eyes. It had a deep blue patina, and looked vaguely Greek in outline, but with no ornamentation...and it was perfectly preserved, as though it had been made yesterday.

"The Helmet of Chaos!" Blaze named it.

"According to our information, yes. We're not sure where Jeroboam got it, but it's believed that this item is equivalent in power to that of Doctor Fate's helmet. The last thing that the United States of America needs is North Korea having its own pet wizard...and the US government would like Jeroboam to simply cease to exist. Your mission is to terminate with **** prejudice."

Now

King Shark and Killer Croc pulled the doors of the bunker off. A waft of foul air came from the dark entrance. There was no lights, no sign of movement. The air smelled of ****...old, old ****. Blaze felt the hackles rise on the back of her neck.

"Harley, take the others and secure the perimeter. Something's wrong here."

The clown princess rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated shrug, stomping off with the two lumbering hulks in tow. Blaze stepped across the threshold...

...and nearly threw up. Reality twisted itself around her, stomach lurching, and the demon was suddenly off-balance.

She appeared to be in a sun-dappled palace. Oppressive heat beat down from a blazing noonday sun, and radiated upwards from black marble shot through with veins of gold. Golden chains clanked on Blaze's wrists and ankles, and she saw, with a bit of shock, that she was naked...and human...and very female.

A figure in grimy uniform lay on a golden throne. Beady eyes stared out from the abysses of the blue helmet. The man in Waller's files had been in his early sixties, hair and beard greying but fit, but this man was gone to see. A fat stomach pushed its way onto his lap, one hairy belly-button visible where the shirt rolled up. Golden rings set with great gems were tight on his fingers, which dug into a golden dish to scrabble for greasy sweatmeats. Blaze watched the colonel shove the dripping morsel up under the edge of the mask, heard his lips smack and masticate.

"I wondered, hurm, who they would send," the helmeted head lolled a little on the thick, flabby neck. "A whore. How kind of them. For the last little while, I've had no one to **** except my own troops. Come forward, darling. Come toward your master."

Blaze stepped forward. She winced; her feet were bare and the marble was hot enough to burn. The sickening nausea redoubled, and the demon knew it was more than just the smell of him. This whole situation was terribly, horribly wrong. A bubble reality of chaos magic...and Blaze knew if it wasn't for her own magic, the Helmet would have already imposed its reality on her mind and spirit. As it was, while her body was transformed, her mind had succumbed to its power...yet.

Stained fingers fiddled at his pants. The smell was worse the closer that Blaze got.

"You know, there was a time when I believed in a cause," his fly unbuttoned, a fat, cock was pulled out. There was great yellow pustules on the head, and others along the shaft, some had burst, leaving behind crusty craters and spots of dried blood. "When I **** my first woman, I thought it was Allah's will! But wars...wars wear on the spirit. I killed a friend once, when he wanted to stop me. I told him the girls were old enough, that it was our right, and he tried to shoot me! Me, his friend!"

Her chains clanked on the marble. The heat felt like she was baking from within. Oddly ****, without clothing, the sun burning her. Yet Blaze made herself walk forward proudly, her breasts pressed outwards, shoulders back. She felt those eyes follow her breasts.

"Some of them said sleeping with a virgin would cure the pox. I don't think so. I tried so many, you know..."

He was stroking himself now. There were scars on that cock. The marks of teeth. It leaned slightly to the right, and something like pain came to his eyes as it rose to its full five inches. The demon wondered which of his victims had hurt him so...and how she had suffered for it. Blaze drew up to the very foot of his throne.

"On your knees." The words were spoken with authority...but it was the **** of the helmet's power behind them that caused Blaze to fall so hard onto the step before the throne that the shock of impact made her thighs numb.

"Open your mouth, beauty," he said. "And no teeth. You will be the first of my wives, the first to bear my sons..."

His eyes flicked within the helmet, assailed by memory.

Blaze opened her mouth. The diseased dick wobbled, unable to rise very far, not with the damage done and the fat gut. She looked up at him...and he stared down at her, the faceplate of the helmet pressed against his chest, greasy hands gripping the sides of his throne.

She pushed off the floor. Instinctively, the old soldier through his hands up, but Blaze was faster. Her right hand grabbed his cock. Pustules popped and bled, but her fingers dug into the rigid flesh and she pulled, with all the strength left in her body. The colonel screamed and his fat ass slid down and forward, his head fell back...and there, beneath the greasy beard, was Blaze's goal.

Her teeth sank into the flesh. Foul hair got into her teeth as she bit down and began to chew.

When she emerged, bearing the blue helmet under one arm, Harley and the others were waiting for her.

"Anybody have some hand sanitizer?" the demon asked.

Killer Croc brought forth a bottle. "Always."

After

"This mission sucked," Harley said in Lois and Blaze's apartment. "I hardly got to kill anyone!"

Poison Ivy sipped her mineral water and patted Harley on the thigh. The plant woman was wearing a tight-fitting outfit that showed off her baby bump. The redhead's hair looked luxurious, the skin gleaming, the braless breasts barely constrained by the tight top that clearly showed how generous the pregnancy was to the villain. It was like watching Mother Nature in bloom.

"Next mission, maybe," Lois said. She reached for her glass of cranberry juice, but couldn't quite make it. At thirty-two weeks with twins, just getting up and down was something of an achievement. Angelica Blaze-Lane reached over and grabbed the glass for her wife.

"So," Ivy said. "Did Harleen tell you why I asked us to meet?"

The clown princess, already pale, suddenly looked nervous. Blaze cocked her head.

"Noooo..." The demon said.

"Well. We were thinking...have you ever thought about swinging?"

Lois and Blaze raised their eyebrows and looked at each other.

"We're happily monogamous," Angie said. "What brought this on?"

"Well, you know...since Lois and I are pregnant...and it's not like we can get more pregnant...if you did want to experiment..." The redhead dipped her finger into her water and swirled it around. "...I mean, we're just friends, and we trust you two with our lives, and...well...we both think you're both hot."

Ivy's cheeks blushed now. It was like seeing a flower opening.

Lois looked at Angie. The demonic dickgirl gave a carefully neutral shrug.

"We're not saying yes," Lois said. "But...what exactly did you have in mind?"

"Well...I thought we could start small..." Ivy said.

Which was how, after a little rearrangement, Blaze and Harley Quinn ended up on the loveseat next to each other, cocks in hands, as their wives prepared to make out.

Poison Ivy stripped off her tight outfit. The pale breasts had buried blue veins, now near the surface, and nipples were already a dark brown. Her stomach was small compared to Lois's, but stuck out distinctly on her thin, slender, well-muscled frame; Blaze could actually make out the lines of the uterus through the skin. Ivy's slit had been shaved just for this encounter, but Blaze only made out flash of that as she began to help Lois get undressed.

The pregnant reporter was not dressed quite so sexily. A simple dark robe tied with a sash over the stomach, Ivy pulled the sash and the edges of the robe fell open, exposing the great swollen belly, which took the other pregnant woman's breath away. With pathetic eagerness, Ivy slowly opened it further. Lois's once small breasts had ballooned, and were now bigger and heavier than Ivy's, the nipples darker, and beaded with golden drops.

Ivy pressed her hands to the great gravid gut. It was taut, with white lines of stretch marks on the underside...and Ivy nearly jumped out of her skin when the babies inside moved, visible on the surface.

"Sorry," Lois said. "They do that."

"By the Green, you're so sexy..." Ivy fell to her knees, tongue and lips pressed against Lois's mound, her licking her way down from the navel to between Blaze's wife's thighs.

"Psst." Harley whispered, her right hand rubbing her pale cock. "This is hot right?"

"Yes," Blaze said, throatily. Her eyes were fixed on Lois's face, and then Ivy's ass...bent over with her face buried in Lois's crotch, the pregnant woman's own shaved cunt was visible from behind. Her left hand ran up her own crimson cock, thumb rubbing against the back of her glans as she watched the pregnant plant-woman eat out her wife.

"Would it be weird if, like I jerked you off and you jerked me off?"

"Yes," Blaze said...frowned. This was wrong.

"I mean, we can just do a Dutch rudder or something, it doesn't have to be gay..."

Blaze tuned Harley out. She stopped stroking her schlong. It upset her to see Lois there, being eaten out by someone else. Hearing her wife moan as Ivy's tongue delved into that familiar cunny. Of course, everybody had said they were okay with it, but Blaze couldn't stop feeling something was wrong, her guts churned at the sight and sound...and then reality took a sickening turn.

Just like that, the demon was standing in the unlit bunker. Bits of blood and flesh and hair between her teeth. The blue helmet in her hands. She stared into the empty eye sockets, and the void within the empty helmet seemed to stare back at her.

"Motherfucker," the demon said, and the muscles bunched on her arms as she pressed against the Helm of Chaos. Something screamed as the ancient metal began to buckle. Black sparks burst from her fingertips as she doubled and redoubled her strength...

When Blaze emerged from the bunker some minutes later, she carried a chunk of blue metal the size of a baseball in one hand.

"Hey," Harley said. "We done?"

"Yeah, we're done." Blaze looked at Harley. "What's your position on wife swapping?"

Harley aimed a gun at the demon's leg. "Like kneecaps: I like mine where it is, thankyewverymuch, and if you like yours where they are, you won't bring it up again."

Blaze smiled. "Good. Just checking. Let's go get some beer. Mission accomplished!"

After After

"...and it just felt so wrong," Angie said. Her head was in Lois's lap, the pregnant reporter combing her fingers through the demonic dickgirl's hair.

"Seriously," Lois said. "Why do you think the Helmet showed you that?"

"I don't know. Some last-ditch effort to try and put me under its sway, I guess," the dickgirl turned her head and kissed Lois's belly. "I just don't think I could ever share you."

Lois snorted. "Babe, you're never getting rid of me. Stuck with me forever and ever, through sickness and through health..."

The thighs opened a little wider. Blaze kissed Lois lower. She could smell her wife's pussy. Lately, Lois hadn't been able to shave, and it had fallen on Blaze to keep things tidy down there...her lips pressed against rough stubble. It would be time to shave her again soon.

"...and I don't want anyone else to eat my pussy but you," the pregnant reporter finished.

Which suited Angelica Blaze Lane just fine.