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The Equilibrium Deviance Ch. 00

By: Zev95



A/N: This fic was betaed by Gnome_man and co-written by Ksennin. While you're here, check out some of his other works available on this fine website.

*

Harley squirmed, wishing she could get just a finger free, but her bonds only drew tighter, tighter. Cutting into her flesh almost painfully, allowing her even less room to move, to even breathe. And as the vines pulled taut, she felt their pressure on her erect nipples, her needy cunt—it was scintillating. She shuffled her thighs together... she could still do that, at least, and it felt good. "I love you, Ivy!" she tried to say, but the vine across her lips could not be dislodged.

Below her—for Harley was suspended ten feet off the ground—Poison Ivy waved a hand, loosening the vines she had directed to seize Harley. She was rewarded with a massive intake of breath from the clown, then a muffled refrain of nonsense from her gagged mouth. With a sigh, Ivy tightened the vines once more and refocused on her experiment. Even with Harley bound and gagged, it was hard to get any work done with her around.

It was impossible to sneak up on Ivy in her garden. Every blade of grass, every flower's petal, every verdant leaf on every towering tree was her sentinel. A bird could no more land there without her knowing than a spider could be ignorant of a fly caught in its web. And yet, Ivy felt a sudden presence behind her. A warm, breathing person suddenly in the heart of her domain.

"Have I interrupted anything?" came a deep, musical voice that Ivy did not know.

It was impossible. Even teleportation had to travel through space, and all space was bisected by the Green, as was all magic. The only way for someone to just be in her garden was if they entered from another reality altogether—and Ivy did not know anyone like that. That was the arena of gods.

Still, Ivy figured she was at least a demi-god, and this was her home... She turned to regard the intruder—a beautiful woman clad in a timeless green dress, her hair dark with purple highlights, her eyes a similar shade of violet, and her lips a deep red. Ivy didn't have much use for humans, aside from Harley. She was shocked to find that the sexuality the woman exuded coaxing her most effectively. Already, her pheromones were responding in kind.

She decided to go along with her body's insistence, putting on a seductive face and letting her pheromones work. It was always best to negotiate with someone who was in love with you. "Interrupting? No, not hardly. I just needed Harley out of my hair for a little while."

"Mmm... and what hair would that be?" the woman with purple eyes asked, trailing her gaze up Ivy's long legs, ending where they stopped. "Well, never mind that. We can discuss it later. For now, I've come to you with a proposition. For you, and your... pet."

Ivy tilted her head and the vines holding Harley abruptly released. She dropped facefirst to the ground, coming up holding her nose. "Oww! Ivy, who is this chick? Is she one of your exes?"

"Quiet, Harl, she's a goddess."

"You never call me a goddess--!"

The woman with purple eyes smiled and gestured, freezing Harley in her affronted position. "Humans. So adorable, aren't they?"

Internally, Ivy felt her barely beating heart give a throb. There, she was still human. "Yes. Quite. Release her; she'll be good. And I'm sure whatever you want to do with me will be better with her... being good."

The woman with purple eyes widened her smile. "If I wanted to fuck you, or your whore, Dr. Isley, you and her would both have been on your knees the moment I arrived, drinking my nectar like it could cure your earthly ills. No. Doctor. I'm here on more pressing matters."

"Release her!" Ivy cried, reaching into the Green, summoning its energy to make her plants grow, change, attack.

And the Green was not there. It was blocked to her. And Ivy's realization of that made the woman smile even more. "Well. Since you asked so nicely."

"—Harl or blondie or dumb-dumb or bitch, but you could pay me a real compliment once in a while, it wouldn't kill ya!" Harley looked around, even her damaged mind noting that the two women had seemingly teleported from where she'd seen them last. "Hey, red, am I thinking with portals or somethin'?"

"Be quiet, Harley!" Ivy insisted, with force in her voice that even Harley could respect. Harley enjoyed pushing boundaries, convincing Ivy to drop everything and pay attention to how cute she was, but sometimes, even she could take a hint. "What do you want?" Ivy asked plainly.

The woman with purple eyes reached up to pluck a low-hanging apple. In her hand, it turned to gold. "How long do you think you can stay here, 'uninterrupted'? You realize it's only a matter of time before someone—most likely that so-called Knight—tracks you here and drags you, kicking and screaming, back to Arkham."

"I'm ready for whatever comes," Ivy said in a low voice. Harley simply nodded in support.

The woman tossed her golden apple from hand to hand. "So you say. But what if you didn't have to be? What if no one could threaten you ever again?" She stopped tossing the apple and took a bite out of it—her white teeth easily tearing through the yellow metal. "What if there were no superheroes?"

"Oh, baby, did you ever pick the wrong time for this!" Harley called. "We all just joined the Society, thinking Luthor would make us masters of the universe, but all we got was punched. A lot."

"The Society was a useful diversion. Its defeat has lulled our 'heroes' into a false sense of security. Like the knights of old, now they wish to celebrate their victory with wine, women, and song. Now is the perfect time to strike. Not through strength of arms, but with their own dark desires."

Harley turned to Ivy, who was smiling icily. "Hey, red, ain't that kinda your thing?"

"Yes, it is, Harl. But unfortunately, while a sex scandal may stop a politician or a pop star, a superhero can continue being a threat, even with the whole world knowing what they look like naked."

The woman tossed Harley her apple. Harley caught it, but being solid gold, it dragged her hands to the ground instead of landing softly in their grip. She approached Ivy, her beauty growing by the moment, as Harley struggled to budge the dropped gold. "On the contrary. A little sex can destroy the most ardent hero. If you do it right. Interested?" Her grin dipped into innuendo.

Ivy smiled right back. This woman may have more power, but no cause was as righteous as preserving Mother Earth. She was outmatched, but not outclassed. "As long as we do it with Harley."

"Of course. This is a group effort." The woman drew her hands together—Ivy had fought Zatanna enough times to recognize a spell being cast—and Ivy felt her garden grow abruptly, suddenly distant, as reality changed around them. "Ready to meet the group?"

***

No one with a rack this great should be this bored, Power Girl thought to herself.

She didn't mind monitor duty; she wasn't a fucking brat like some of the younger members, who just wanted to have fun putting out fires and punching bad guys. It was a really important position, if you thought about it, worthy of having an actual superhero spending their precious time sitting in front of a computer like some Star Trek fanboy. If anything came up, it took the wisdom and maturity that came from actually being out in the field to determine who should be assigned where, what crises required intervention and which could be handled by the proper authorities, and most importantly, if any of the distress signals they picked up were traps.

Karen felt very appreciated to be trusted with that responsibility, practically leading the JLA, really. It would just be nice if something were actually happening.

Since the defeat of the Secret Society of Supervillains, about eighty percent of the Earth's supervillain population was jailed. The remainder were, by and large, small-time criminals—or those presumed dead but with no corpse (so, probably not dead). Thus every supervillain on Earth was either in prison or lying low. There were no volcanoes. No wars. No tidal waves. No riots. No earthquakes. No meteors. Everyone, including the superheroes, seemed to be staying home and enjoying a well-deserved rest.

Except for Karen, who had monitor duty.

She wished she had a boyfriend. This would be a great time for some phone sex, and she was sure she wasn't the only one who'd thought so. Every time Vixen wrapped up a shift on monitor duty, the place smelled like fish.

In lieu of that, could she play Candy Crush on the big monitor? Yes, she could, but would Batman know about it? Yes, he would—but could she beat him up if he said anything about it? Probably.

Then again, she was supposed to be monitoring, and that meant checking in on her teammates. Making sure none of them had been captured, tortured, made to watch CBS, whatever. And if the spy satellites happened to pick up anything—interesting—well, she'd just stop watching. Eventually. Once she was sure no one was going to be tortured.

Karen was pretty sure she'd just figured out why Beetle and Booster volunteered for monitor duty so much. And here she'd thought it was a gay thing.

The Equilibrium Deviance Ch. 01



A/N: I'll be honest and admit that this has been kind of a backburner project for a while and I'm releasing it into the wild because it just wasn't too any damn good hanging out on my hard drive. Both me and my co-writer are pressed for free time these days, so... not trying to be the "ten comments or I don't update!" asshole here... but if there isn't any interest in it, I'll probably let it die, at least for the foreseeable future. So if you like it, you want to see more, let me know, otherwise, go back to whatever it is you were doing before this story came into your life. Probably watching cat videos. I don't know.

CHAPTER 1: WHERE DOES AN EIGHT HUNDRED POUND GORILLA SIT?

Were anyone watching, they would not believe that Mari Jiwe McCabe was a supermodel. It wasn't a lack of beauty that was the issue. Even in a sports bra and track pants, her dark skin covered in sweat, a quick photograph of her could be hung in an art gallery in the world. Nor was it her age. Although mature by industry standards, she had a grace and elegance that only came with experience, and was not wanting for contracts, even with her rigorous standards for how she and any other models on a shoot with her would be treated.

No, the problem would be seeing Mari in the first place. She was running so fast that her arms and legs blurred together, her torso and head a shimmer of vibrant motion. Her treadmill, though specifically designed by Kord Industries, was hard-pressed to keep up, and it was only the fact that she was running in place that kept her by and large visible. Were she running outside, and a random camera phone or camcorder happened to catch her, a layperson's first thought would be of the Flash family.

Mari was the costumed superhero Vixen, a Justice Leaguer whose vodun animal spirits allowed her to channel their power through her Tantu Totem. Usually, she used this power to fight injustice, but occasionally—when there was free food and few cameras—she appropriated the appetite of a panda bear and packed on the pounds. And after a comfortable interval of laziness, she took on the metabolism of a hummingbird and ran the weight off in a few hours. And that redheaded snip of a model thought she was bulimic. What was her name again? She'd had almost the same initials as Mari...

Stopping abruptly, she leapt smoothly off the treadmill before it could propel her through the back wall. She landed cleanly as the high-tech exercise machine automatically powered down, and patted her stomach—once more flat as North Dakota. She habitually kept her ears slightly pointed with the summoned hearing of a wolf, wanting to hear any possible danger before it got within six miles, as well as the ring of her JLA communicator. On scantily-clad photoshoots, she often couldn't keep it on her person.

Not a problem now. She'd left it on the floor beside the treadmill. Toweling off, she tapped it with her toe. "This is Vixen. What's up, Peej? Just feeling lonesome?"

Knowing her friend well, she could feel Power Girl's amused blush over the comm channel. "There's a break-in at the Hub City division of STAR Labs. Seems like just one assailant. You want to handle it or should I call in the Big Seven?"

"Hub City's my hunting ground. Let the League sleep, this one's all mine. Unless you want to beam down here. Watch my ass."

Power Girl giggled. I knew it, Mari thought to herself. A straight woman with cleavage like that shouldn't have any trouble getting a boyfriend—not to mention all that time she'd spent with Oracle, the biggest power dyke outside of Regina Mills. Yeah, she and Peej were on more than one of the same teams.

"I can keep an eye on your ass from up here."

"That's why I wear the skintight suit, babe."

***

Old favorite: flying squirrel. Sure, she could fly, but there was just something about gliding—letting gravity have a hold on her and just ignoring it to jump from rooftop to rooftop.

In record time, she was in the little market district that STAR Labs ruled over; a mall with packs of storefronts and parking spaces to tend to the needs of the science campus's several hundred employees. The campus itself was dominated by a trademark laboratory—a great cylinder of self-contained arcology, supposedly impregnable. Nothing got in and nothing got out, not without forms filled out in triplicate.

Vixen supposed whoever'd put the smoldering hole in the side of the building hadn't heard that part. Stretching out her limbs, she glided down to the fence separating the building from the forest beyond, perching and channeling eagle eyes to scout out the area. No sign of injured parties, nor could she pick up irregular heartbeats or other signs of trauma. STAR Labs' protocol had worked; the employees must've all retreated to panic rooms. Of course, that also meant on-site security had decided to live to guard another day. Whoever she was up against was not a C-lister.

She thumbed on her belt-mounted communicator. "Peej, you seeing this?"

"Uh-huh. Want back-up now?"

"I have every animal you've ever seen on the Discovery Channel for back-up. But keep your finger on the button."

"Consider the button fingered."

Was she flirting back? Well now. Maybe she would be seeing some nightcap to go with her thrilling heroics. Assuming she didn't happen upon some stunningly beautiful damsel in need of undistressing.

Grasshopper: She jumped the proportionate distance to the hole mid-way up the building, landing on the debris sprayed inside the hallway. It was hard to balance on, which was why when the gorilla charged, she couldn't pull a roadrunner.

Tiger: she clawed the shit out of his chest as he collided with her, carrying them both right back out the building. Tossed her aside in mid-air and, by rote, she assumed Cat to land on her feet.

So did he.

Vixen checked him out in the damaged parking lot of the arcology, amidst a fleet of cars hailed on by rubble. Far too large for a normal gorilla, without the hue of the Ultra-Humanite, and with a score of old scars covering his thick hide.

Grodd.

He set aside some whatever-it-was from a sling around his back... looked like a telescope from the set of Star Trek. Unencumbered, he stumped his big hairy fists on the ground. "Soon, gorilla will take the world from man, as it always should've been!" Blah blah blah. "When the takeover comes, which shall you be: foodstuff or... toy?"

He was staring at her breasts. Mari supposed she should've been flattered that her sex appeal transcended species but hell, she wasn't Starfire or anything. "You know, you've ruined Planet of the Apes for me? I used to think a planet ruled by monkeys would be kinda neat. But you are just no Dr. Zaius."

Again, the 'King Kong pounding on the pavement' bit. It cracked. Mari gulped. Still, no need to look bad in front of Power Girl. She put all her totem into Gorilla, her arms elongating and thickening until they settled on the ground. "Okay, Magilla. Let's make this a fair fight. You animal enough to face me?"

The sustained roar answered her. She would've responded in kind, but she was a lady after all. He rushed her, clambering over the cars in the way, and she charged him.

In the Watchtower, Power Girl watched on satellite read-out as the two collided, circled each other, pounded their own chests. With tits like Vixen's, that had to hurt.

Poison Ivy too watched as they pounded into each other, meaty fists flailing, flinging each other about like rag dolls into parked cars and chunks of scattered masonry. But she was far closer. And somewhat more appreciative of Vixen's charms.

Grodd was the veteran when it came to fighting in this form. Picking up Vixen, he slammed her down on a cherry Corvette once, twice, three times.

"Fight well," he admonished. "I may allow you to become my mate."

Vixen kicked out with her boot, catching him in the thigh and sending him staggering back. "Man, I know about gorillas and their 'proportions'. If your action figure was anatomically correct, it'd still be a Ken doll."

With a roar, Grodd struck out with his mind. Telekinetic force hit Vixen and drove her back, rolling her off the car and onto a ground strewn with shattered glass. Only the body armor of an abalone saved her from shredding her skin.

"Oh, so we're doing the psychic thing?" she asked. As long as he was cheating...

Channeling the jaw of a hyena, Vixen leapt for him. He swung at her, a backhand that would've taken a man's head off, but she was too fast all on her own. She ducked under it and bit into his arm.

Hyena's jaws were stronger than those of lions, tigers, or wolves. They could crush elephant bones. Hers easily sunk into Grodd's hide deep enough to snap the bone. He shrieked in agony as she drew back, now calling on the strength of a blue whale. People didn't commonly think of whales as strong, but it took a lot of power to survive the water pressure of the depths, to move all that blubber. One swing punched him through four cars.

When he came to a stop, wolf's ears told her he was snoring. Now to check on the tech. She looked over where Grodd had set it down—she was sure it hadn't shifted in the fight—but all she saw was a bit of moss growing on the car door it'd been leaning against. I don't suppose it's some kind of agricultural experiment...

Quick as a whip, a tentacle snagged her foot and pulled it out from under her. Her chin bounced off the hood of a car before she hit the ground, looked down to see it was a vine right out of the rain forest.

Poison Ivy.

The woman herself came strolling out of the woods, through a hole her vines had made in the fence. She was just the kind of woman Mari might've gone for under different circumstances. Women in the circles she traveled in tended to be either tall and lean, like herself, or big and muscular like Big Barda. Either could be fun, but damnit, she was shallow. It was her right to be, she was a model. And sometimes, she wanted a lover, not a fighter.

Ivy was certainly that. Her body seemed built for nothing but sex. Long, toned legs that led inexorably up to a heart-shaped ass, her breasts full and firm and overflowing from her body into her clothes, though her skin was covered only in the curlicuing vines of her namesake. Her green-tinted skin and red-burnished hair lent her an exotic quality that Mari would've loved to explore further.

With each approaching step, the leaves on her vines shifted in the wind, flashing at Mari hints of nipples and other lusciously bared flesh. She even thought she could see Ivy's clover-toe.

"Mmmm. Vixen." Ivy chewed on a fingernail. "Thank you for taking out Grodd. I thought I really would have to follow through with his plan and help him take over the world. I'm sure you'll agree, anything is better than men in charge, but at the end of the day, a bunch of gorillas running things is pretty much just people with worse body odor." She batted her eyelashes. "Now, however can I reward you?"

Mari wasn't stupid. She could feel Ivy's pheromones going to work on her. Nipples tingling. Pulse racing. Clit hardening. It was like Wonder Woman had walked into the room. "Not gonna work, Ivy. I'd die first."

Ivy ran her finger from her full lips down to... oh God... she moved the vines right out of the way with that finger. "Then why not go out with a bang?"

Startled, Vixen tried to move—too late—as more vines gripped her, winding themselves around her arms and legs. Ivy stepped closer, the leaves falling from her ropey covering. More and more of her was exposed, and Mari felt her heart race faster and faster. The feelers crept from her limbs to her torso, over her crotch, into the plunging neckline of her bodysuit, around her stiff nipples...

"Normally I have a thing about animals, and you're sort of all of them at once, aren't you? But I've made exceptions for mammals before. Grodd may be in dire need of manscaping, but he did have some good taste. How about it, Vixen?"

***

Up on Watchtower, Power Girl watched with bated breath. She had to do something. She had to get to the teleporter, beam down, and save Vixen.

Before they started without her.

***

But Karen, not wanting to miss a second of the seduction, had wasted too much time at the monitor. Before she could even spin up the teleporter, Mari had responded.

A while back, Mari had been mind-controlled into serving a religious cult. It was a fundamentalist cult, not one of those hippie-drippy things, so there'd been no hanky-panky. But she'd only gotten out from under it by literally making an ass of herself. Next time she doubted she'd be so lucky, and she had no intention of being in a Lifetime movie. So she'd trained herself for whenever some pervert got mind-control powers and thought of getting some brown sugar. Almost instinctively, she channeled a power she'd acquired on her last adventure with Rip Hunter—the penis of a prehistoric timberwolf.

Ripping free of her bonds, she jumped Ivy, bearing her to the ground and topping her. Ivy's eyes bulged as she saw the sausage-thick outline at the crotch of Mari's costume.

"Listen up, Ivy. You want to drive me crazy with lust, you go ahead. This thing's about to rip right out of my uniform and you can guess where it's headed next. Once that happens, I'll knot you. We'll be tied together for hours. Long enough for back-up to arrive. The League will hush the whole thing up, once they pull me out of you. That won't be pleasant either. So unless you're a much bigger dog-person than I figure, cut that shit out."

All of a sudden, it was like Ivy just wasn't her type. Ivy raised her hands, an expression of coy sheepishness on her face. Then something whirling and black collided with her head. Knocked her out cold.

The voice came out of nowhere, like a Beyonce album: "Sorry to interrupt, but she has an Arkham reunion to attend."

Vixen didn't know if Ivy was still pumping out a few pheromones or if she was just that easy. Either way, Batwoman's husky voice did it for her. "Sounds fun. Can she take a gorilla as her Plus One?"

The Bat stepped out of some shadows, and Mari decided yes, she was that easy, because this was the third woman in as many minutes that she wouldn't kick out of bed for eating crackers. Shorter than she imagined, but wasn't that true of everyone? Vixen was a model, she'd been to Hollywood. Everyone there was shorter and gayer than they seemed on-screen.

"Speaking of a Plus One..." Batwoman glanced significantly downward.

Vixen quickly stopped channeling the timber wolf. "Would you believe I'm just happy to see you?"

Batwoman smiled wryly, but like all Bats, was quick to business. "You have the superstrength, you take care of Mighty Joe Young. I'll hold onto Ivy." She took a moment to eye the redhead who, semi-conscious, woozily preened. "Mmm... she looks good in handcuffs, doesn't she?"

***

The proper League Support vehicles to transport Grodd and Ivy would take time to arrive. In the meantime, they carried the prisoners into one of STAR's vaults—an artless white room packed with boxes of Dr. Kirby's incomprehensible tech. Batwoman used her bottomless utility belt to sedate Grodd and slap Ivy with a pheromone inhibitor. Vixen dusted herself off from the fight with Grodd, noting Batwoman's interest in the push and pull of her costume.

With the crisis resolved, Mari likewise occupied herself with some artistic appreciation of the female form—in this case, Batwoman's. Wasn't like there was much else to look at in the sterile room.

She really wasn't tall. She'd be petite if it weren't for her high-heeled boots; and Vixen had thought those were impractical. As well, her skin was ghostly-pale to go with her blood-red hair. Goddamn Bats, being so brooding and goth and tight leather. At least the Batgirls had the common courtesy to be underage.

And something about that cherubic face, rendered fearsome by the mask, stirred Mari's memory. Did she know her in her civilian identity? Maybe she was another model slash hero. Herself, Kory, and Batwoman. They'd make a fine threesome. Err, trio.

Vixen forced herself to business. The Gotham crew didn't tend to be impressed by chit-chat. "So, what'd they nab?"

"Resonance Cascader," Batwoman explained. Or thought she explained. Off Vixen's look: "Makes earthquakes."

Vixen looked at Ivy. The elemental was seated, her hands tied behind her back, but her legs free... and open. If it weren't for the regrown vines, Vixen would be able to see her flower. "That sounds dangerous. Why don't you tell us where it is and we'll take care of it for you."

"Well, since your spread in Vogue last July kept me warm on so many lonely Arkham nights, I'll tell you that Harley took it and buried it for me to get to when I inevitably break free of Arkham."

Vixen flashed some claws. "Tell us where it is or we'll put you in an LA prison. You can get smog alerts with your weather reports.

Ivy smiled like she knew the punchline to a joke Mari didn't even know she was being told. It reminded Vixen disconcertingly of the Joker. "Do you know what it's like in Arkham? Four gray walls. Doughy orderlies. Not a lot of stimulation. Us ladies don't even shower together. All we have are our memories."

"My heart weeps," Vixen said, leaning over her.

Ivy pressed her lips together tightly. "Ooh. Bend over a little further and you'll have nothing to be sorry about."

Vixen didn't bend any further. But she did growl. "This isn't a peep show." Though she didn't straighten either.

"It could be." Mari watched Ivy's full lips rub sinuously together. And they call me Vixen. "They keep it so hot in Arkham. So warm and dry. If you could just give something to think about while I'm locked away—something to keep me nice and wet. If you two could kiss. That would be worth a few directions."

Mari and Batwoman looked at each other. What she saw in Batwoman's eyes shocked her. Not confusion. Not even determination. It was... eagerness.

With no warning beyond that look, Batwoman's lips were pressed to Vixen's. Her kiss wasn't what she would've expected: cold and domineering. Instead it was warm, submitting, eager to please. And as red as they were, Batwoman's lips tasted as sweet as candy.

Mari had to force herself to stop kissing Batwoman. It was just supposed to be one little kiss, after all. Not... what she felt like doing. What her throbbing groin, her burning breasts wanted her to do.

"All right, you got your sweeps-week lesbianism!" she fairly shouted at Ivy. "Where's the Cascader?"

Ivy wove her head from side to side, hair sashaying around her lovely face. "Oh... twenty feet north of that hole in the fence, I'd say. In the woods."

Mari took a few steps back from Batwoman, whose breasts were heaving behind her red insignia. They had pressed up against Mari's chest as the two kissed...

Batwoman took a visibly deep breath. "I'll have Doc Hamilton go there and scan." She detached herself into the corner to make the call.

Vixen kept an eye on Ivy. She could see her toes curl with a tension that flowed up her legs. "Somehow I don't think I'm the only person who'll keep warm thinking of that," Ivy said.

"Quiet, bitch."

"No need to thank me. Happy to be of service."

"I said shut up."

"Maybe you can service me too..."

Batwoman came back before Mari could show Ivy what being kissed with vampire bat teeth felt like. "Hamilton's scanning for the Cascader's energy. He says he's picking it up." She smiled feebly at Mari's evident distress. "Wasn't that bad a kiss, was it?"

"No, no, we were—you were—it was fine." Mari huffed. "I'm just really looking forward to getting home and taking one cold-ass shower."

Batwoman's cape was cinched tightly around her. "Or... we could do something else."

Vixen looked. In the shadows and blackness, only Batwoman's eyes were visible. They were still eager.




The Equilibrium Deviance Ch. 01



They dropped away. "Sorry, guess I caught a few of Ivy's pheromones myself. Right now I could even go for what Grodd was selling?"

"A Planet of the Apes remake without James Franco?"

"Clothes ripped off. Fucked hard. Tied up, even." Batwoman smiled a bit shyly. "Shame he doesn't have the equipment to back it up. Like some villains I could name..."

Batwoman's communicator chirped. "Batwoman, this is Dr. Hamilton. I've twenty feet north of your location, but there's no sign of the stolen tech. It is nearby, though. I'm picking up a lot of resonant energy."

Vixen's hand was at Ivy's throat, found there like frost first thing in the morning. "No more games, green thumb! Where's the Resonance Cascader?"

Despite it all, her grip wasn't tight enough to impede Ivy's speech. "Close. I said I've give you directions. Plural. But you're going to have to get me warmer than that little motherly peck first."

Vixen released Ivy with a shove, a lock of fiery hair dropping over Ivy's mint-green face. "Fuck this. Hamilton, can't you just walk around with your sensor until you're standing on it? You know, getting warmer, getting colder, getting warmer?"

"It's New Genesisian technology, Ms. McCabe. It'll get hungry if I do that."

Vixen looked at Batwoman quizzically, but she just nodded. Go with it. Then she pulled an earpiece from her belt and set it on Ivy. "Relay the directions to Hamilton. Tilt your head far to the left to speak and he'll hear you."

Mari was aghast... at how not aghast she was. Still, she could fake it. If she could pretend wearing Alexander McQueen was comfortable, she could fake aghastment. "We are not making out for Ivy's spank bank! What would Batman say?"

"Batman isn't here." Her voice was dipping down octaves, straight to a level that resonated with Mari's groin. "No one's here. Just us."

"Grodd's here. What if he wakes up?"

"Who cares? You're a model. I thought you liked having an audience."

"I, uh, I..." Vixen glanced at Ivy, who was watching all this with rapt attention. Meeting her gaze made Mari's nipples pop up like top hats. "Alright, you sick fuck, what happens next in this perverted fanfic you've got running in your head?"

Ivy smiled lasciviously at her before turning to Batwoman, her smile widening. "Vixen looks a little nervous. Why don't you stroke her hair a little and calm her down, just like I do for you?"

Just like I do for you, Mari wondered. She'd heard about Batman and Catwoman, and everyone knew Nightwing was a slut, but damn. How could people in Gotham be so angsty if they were getting that much?

Mari moved first. She damn sure wouldn't give up the initiative, even to one of Batman's disciples. She reached out and ran her hand through Batwoman's exposed hair like she was trying to shave it off. It felt odd—not as smooth and sleek as it looked. Maybe they didn't have hair salons in Gotham City. That would explain a lot.

Batwoman raised her hands, but stopped with them in mid-air. "Is it alright if I touch your hair? I know a lot of you people are particular about that."

"You people?"

"You know, models?" Batwoman smiled innocently. "You like having every hair just so for the paparazzi."

Vixen shook her head. Maybe she was from Rann or something. You never could tell in the Justice League.

Batwoman reached up and ran her hands through the stylized mop of brown hair adorning Vixen's head. Mari knew what she'd find. Her hair was carefully maintained by the best hair stylists in the business, preserved like a religious artifact: soft and glossy, with the faint smell of the chemical products that kept it from frizzing. She was all for natural hair, but she genuinely liked it looking just this way.

Batwoman bunched the dark hair in her hands, sending it spilling through her fingers. Her fingertips, unyielding in their red leather, scraped against Mari's scalp and her other hand ran over Mari's head, the touch surprisingly supple even through the glove. It caressed, it soothed. Mari sighed breathily—she was growing calm, even with the situation as tense as it was.

Batwoman tugged a little on her hair, torqueing her, before once more deftly working her fingers through Mari's hair. Her touch was just as expert as anyone Vixen had taken to bed, as intimate on her head as a lover would be on Mari's breasts, her hips, her mouth. All places Mari could feel start to hunger for Batwoman's touch, for Batwoman herself.

Mari leaned back, into the conniving touch, and bared her throat to Batwoman, asking for a kiss that didn't come. Their thighs were brushing against each other. Electric. She'd thought this only happened to Wonder Woman.

Ivy tilted her head to the side, as if getting a better angle to see them. "Dr. Hamilton, Ivy here. Facing north, turn thirty degrees to your left and proceed ten feet."

"Yes... yes, strong readings over here..." Hamilton announced over Vixen's communicator.

Ivy straightened, her smile wide and ghoulish. "Vixen, since you've gotten so close to the Bat, why don't you two hug? Nice and tight?"

All Batwoman had to do was spread her arms and Vixen gave in almost too quickly. She felt Batwoman's breasts spread softly across her own chest. Her nipples were hard, poking right through her costume. They seemed to burn holes in Mari's chest.

"Yes, that's it," Ivy faintly moaned. "Rub your hands all over each other. Make it feel goooood."

Batwoman's arms locked around her, and Mari shivered as she felt them moving down her body to cup her curvy ass. Instead of outrage, it started a fluttery sensation in her belly. Or intensified one that was already there. Batwoman was so gentle, like she was hoping Mari wouldn't notice two handprints on her backside. And Mari felt the pressure of Batwoman's tits, grinding into her own with each fierce pump of her lungs.

She was barely aware of how her body responded to Batwoman, how she wiggled herself enticingly into the contact, pushed her mound against the crotch of Batwoman's armor. And she clung to Batwoman, dizzy with excitement, face burning, as Batwoman's lips met her mouth once more.

It was better this time. Batwoman was once more submissive, obedient, but now that brought out the animal in Vixen. She wanted to dominate Batwoman, fuck her. Make her her bitch.

Past the horns of Batwoman's cowl, Mari saw Ivy rocking back and forth, her thighs clenching, her breath coming in delirious gasps. Mari knew what she was thinking, seeing the two women's breasts crushed together: how wonderful it would be to have her face between that wonderfully curved flesh.

Especially with what they were wearing. Batwoman looked to be wearing bondage gear in this context, and Vixen's savannah-yellow costume was skintight to show the full outline of her sleek body, with a neckline cut low in the front to show the deep cleavage between her magnificent breasts. Usually, Vixen was comfortable simply in the knowledge that she looked good, felt good, but now... she was sexy. She felt sexy. She didn't want to stop. The pleasure of touching Batwoman's body was too great for her to let go.

Batwoman's lips drew towards her again, but Vixen turned her head upward, so Batwoman kissed the hollow of her throat instead. It was all Mari could do to resist the inevitable. She tightened her arms around Batwoman, this time to hold her in place. Then she looked at Ivy, who was closing her eyes in glee. Like she could just smell their intimacy.

"Directions!"

Lips slack, arms held uncomfortably still by her cuffs, Ivy took a moment to force her head to the side. "Forty degrees right, thirty feet ahead, there should be a marking on the tree in front of you." Like a flower blooming, she dipped her head and raised it again to face them. Her eyes boring into their closeness, discomfort forgotten. "Vixen... Batwoman... I want each of you to do something to undress the other."

Batwoman cleared her throat and fingered the neckline of her cowl. Very cunningly hidden by the closure of her cape was a zipper topping her collar. Just as seamlessly, the teeth it had sealed ran down the front of her chestpiece, disappearing behind the buckle of her utility belt.

"Definite readings--!" Hamilton called over her communicator, and Mari muted it.

Shit, she thought to herself. Now what red-blooded woman could resist an offer like that? Even a straight would have to think twice about it.

She took hold of the zipper between two trembling fingers—shaking not with nervousness, but from adrenaline—and drew the zipper slowly downward. She wanted to give Batwoman time to stop her, to back out of this if she wished. Batwoman didn't do her that favor. She smiled widely as the zipper traveled lower, lower, exposing a swath of white skin and not a hint of a bra. Until the fastener was down nearly to Batwoman's groin, where Vixen hadn't been able to stop herself from going but didn't dare to go further. At any rate, she was transfixed by Batwoman's perky breasts, half-exposed and half-obscured by what remained of the suit on her body.

Her hands ached to touch them—to move the parted suit that crucial half-inch that would expose her nipples, then further, more—more—until she was stripped bare and Mari could see if she was that pale all over. If she was a natural redhead. Encased in yellow gloves up to her elbows, her hands felt leaden... unable to work...

Until Batwoman took gentle hold of them. Squeezed them reassuringly. Fingers slipped together, caught a firm grip, and eased Mari's gloves off her hands, one at a time. Until her sweaty palms were exposed to cold open air. She was still fully dressed, but she felt utterly naked.

Sweat was pouring down Ivy's body, glimmering on her breasts, slick on her long legs as they knotted together. "Eat her cunt, Vixen."

"I... I..."

Batwoman almost playfully ushered her down to her knees. Hands slipped under her utility belt and a finger pushed the zipper the rest of the way. Down between her legs. The costume parted and there was Batwoman's slit. It was shaved totally bare, a sweet puff of delicate pink amid atonal white flesh. And it shone with moisture.

Mari was having a hard time keeping her mind on the mission, remembering where she was—thinking of anything but Batwoman's bubble-gum pink cunt. "Ivy... you have to tell us where the Cascader is. You have to tell us where it is before I..." She looked between Batwoman's legs and found herself moaning gently.

"Of course, Vixen. Of course..." Ivy spoke with unadulterated lust. Her voice was raspy and it was broken and it made Mari feel the exact same way. "You're almost there now," Ivy said into the communicator. "Turn sixty degrees to the right and walk eighty feet." Then she growled, low and sexy. "Fuck her, Vixen. Fuck her like an animal."

Mari didn't know if Hamilton had heard. Didn't care.

In the animal kingdom, there was no room for deliberation. It was fight or flight. You took or you didn't. You ate or you didn't. You mated or you didn't. Thought and feeling didn't come into it. Least of all shame.

Brusquely, Vixen grabbed Batwoman's ass like she'd wanted to all night, angry at it being hidden from view by that damned cape. Batwoman gave a slight gasp—very gratifying to hear from a member of the Bat-clan. And Mari went down on her, devoured her, lost her tongue in Batwoman's sex. She called on a few of her favorite animal senses as she did it. She wanted to see everything, hear everything, taste everything. And human perception was too limited for that. So it was she became aware of how quickly Batwoman's clit became engorged, how her cunt was now wetter than ever. Batwoman moaned desperately—a sound that would be gratifying coming from anyone.

"Oh, yes-yes-yes!" she squeaked above Mari, her voice going falsetto-high with pleasure. Mari ignored its shrillness. All she cared about was that Batwoman was the one making the wild animal noises now, squirming her hips to let Mari's tongue in, the cool leather of her glove running through Mari's hair and over her face and neck.

"Sixty feet... sixty-five..." Hamilton was saying. "Readings are going off the charts."

Vixen ignored that too. She didn't ignore Ivy in the background, straining against her bonds, sweat coming down her body like a tide and the vines growing over her skin like weeds in an untended garden. She liked that. She liked being watched. She was a model. It went with the territory. And it was a little bit like—like she was channeling Ivy's lust, taking on her mad desire and adding it to her own and expressing it with Batwoman. A threesome of sorts.

She wondered if she should ask Batwoman if she was okay with powers during sex, then decided fuck it: by any reasonable metric, she'd be happy with anything that got this over with faster, right?

Especially if it made her come...

The tongue of the giant anteater could flick in and out a hundred and fifty times a minute, devouring thousands of insects. Mari usually used the long, prehensile tongue of a giraffe instead, lavishing attention on every inner curving of a cunt, but she also liked straight-up overwhelming a bitch. Anteater: She sent her tongue against Batwoman's sex as quickly as a motor flooded with nitrous oxide.

"Whoa momma!" Batwoman cried, her voice at a high note. "Wowie-owie-wow! Ivy, she's eating my cunt so good! She's so good at eating my cunt!"

Ivy's breath ran ragged. "Find her clit, Vixen. Put it in your mouth and make her come."

Mari didn't listen to her. That would finish this. And she didn't want it to end. She wanted to fuck Batwoman forever. She slowed down suddenly, dispelling her power, instead driving her tongue deep inside Batwoman and keeping it there, roaming all the sweetness within her. Batwoman giggled in shocked surprise. "I'm gonna pop! I'm gonna pop!"

Without warning, Mari channeled the anteater again and sealed her lips completely over Batwoman's cunt. Her tongue blurred against Batwoman's slit, the supersonic vibration sending high voltage throughout the woman's body. Batwoman's head tossed from side to side, red hair flying like lava from an eruption. Mari's tongue was flying over her erogenous zones, going even faster, inside then outside, outside then inside, a dozen live wires all pressed to her crotch, all sending their own electricity fluttering through her.

"Getting close now," Hamilton reported over the communicator. "Very close--!"

Trapped by the woman kneeling before her, Batwoman writhed and thrashed in place as the orgasms began pouring into her, each one larger and hotter than the last. She was penetrated, one by one, by shafts of impossible pleasure. Drowned in a sea of ecstasy. Burnt to ashes by fiery pleasure.

Then Mari began sucking on her clit.

"I found it! I found it!" Hamilton called.

Grodd rolled over in his sleep, crushing the offending communicator.

A torrent of indescribable pleasure washed away every thought in Batwoman's head, much like the torrent that shot from her cunt, soaking Mari's face, running down her own pale skin to slide over the utility belt hanging onto her wobbly knees. Where it touched, the red belt was stained a certain shade of white, but Mari didn't see, dragged up by her Tantu Totem necklace to be met by Batwoman's mouth, a desperate attempt to sate the feeling of lust that gripped Batwoman's body beyond her ability to satisfy it.

They stood facing each other, breathing hard, sweat running down Batwoman's hidden face, smearing the foundation of her make-up. I knew she wasn't that pale in real life, Vixen thought, trying to take her mind off the unanswered throbbing in her groin. Whoever heard of an albino good guy?

Ivy panted in the background, her own orgasm hanging in the air. Her vines had completely enraptured her, tightening on her sleek thighs and around her full breasts, the tips reaching for her mouth. Small buds were appearing on the vines, dotting them like goosebumps on an extension of Ivy's body.

"Well, we, ah—" Mari took on the lung capacity of the blue whale to catch her breath. "We found the Resonance Cascader. Mission accomplished."

"Yessirreebob," Batwoman replied. "We did it. Yay us."

"You should probably zip your costume up."

"Should I?" Batwoman asked.

It was a rhetorical question.

They pulled together like magnets, splitting a passionate kiss, claiming each other's bodies with eager hands. Soon, Batwoman had a firm grasp on either half of Vixen's neckline, and had ripped it open to her naval. It was a five thousand dollar costume, all told, and Mari didn't give a shit. The embers of their lovemaking had flared up like someone had up-ended a can of gasoline.

Their lips met and met, joined over and over again, the frenzied mating of their tongues always growing too pleasurable to stand. Repeatedly they broke apart, nipping at each other's bared throats and ears, but always their mouths found each other again, tongues locked together, panting exhortations swallowed up by the other's mouths.

Mari was so absorbed in the cycle that she barely noticed Batwoman's hand sliding down the tear in her costume, between her clothes and skin, all the way to her pussy. The red leather was not cold as it stroked her there. It was hot. Boiling hot.

Mari immediately channeled the hyena. The female of the species had enviably large clits. When Batwoman discovered it, big enough to be felt through her glove, she gaped in pleased wonderment. Mari wasn't sure how other women stood it, being heterosexual and not being able to grow a clitoris so big it could be stimulated through vaginal sex.

Batwoman giggled as she ground the heel of her hand into the lovely organ.

A moan of pleasure, both low and loud, began to emanate from Mari. It continued as she was kissed, intensified as Batwoman increased the pressure of her kneading hand on Mari's tender flesh.

"Yes, yes, yes," Ivy was saying for both of them, making Mari think once more of the three of them being connected, sharing this as if by some mystical link. Even if her mouth was free, certainly she couldn't sound any more pleasured than Ivy did.

Batwoman trembled, all too human for a Bat, as she ran her finger into the groove of Mari's cunt. It opened readily for her, letting her feel all the moisture that had gathered during their meeting. Face breaking into an uncharacteristic smile, she probed deep. Wiggled her finger inside like she meant to tickle Vixen.

Mari's moan was swallowed up by the vibrant, far louder chant of Ivy. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Batwoman took it as encouragement. She pushed her gloved finger in up to the knuckle, pumped it a few times before she added another finger. Another. Another. Mari tried to hug Batwoman to her, but her cape crinkled oddly and was too slippery to get a hold on. Instead, she grabbed hold of Batwoman's red hair and pulled it taut as her hips instinctively responded to the fingers working inside her. She was impaled and impaling herself, forcing herself onto the invading hand, and in her mind there was not a shred of second thought or guilt.

Cocooned in such bliss, she came. Body tensing, spasming, exploding, she accidentally ripped Batwoman's cowl and hair straight off her head. For a moment, Mari's shuddering orgasm was tinged with the worry that she had scalped her new friend. But they had come off too easily. The mask wasn't attached to her costume except by dangling Velcro straps. And the hair was just a wig. Underneath, a pair of petite pigtails were wrapped up in a hairnet atop a very familiar face.

"Harley Quinn!" Vixen yelled, and tried to move, channel something, but all her motion achieved was sending a tremor of aching pleasure through her body. She was too sluggish with her recent orgasm to do anything as Harley grabbed her by the hair and shoved her down between Ivy's spread legs, into her dripping cunt. The one thing not covered by the vines criss-crossing her green body.




The Equilibrium Deviance Ch. 01



The buds on Ivy's vines burst open, unveiling delicately furled petals that trembled as they caught the open air. Inside each was a beautiful flower, a gallery of colors, each blooming toward Harley as if the disguised villainess were Ivy's sun.

Poison Ivy's flower had been watered.

Vixen, meanwhile, slumped out of Harley's grip, dropping to the floor unconscious. Her lips were still stained with the white make-up that had run wetly off of Harley's body. Not that she had noticed in time.

"Ha!" Harley cried, flapping her cape as she'd restrained herself from doing for far too long. "Stupid stupor-hero! Bet she didn't think all your lips were poisonous!"

"Maybe she was lulled into a false sense of security by giving you multiple orgasms," Ivy complained acidly as Harley unlocked her.

"Aww, c'mon Red. I didn't say nuthin' when you were flirtin' with that lady earlier."

"That 'lady' is giving us a chance to—oh, what do you care?" Ivy stood, massaging her freed wrists. "You can't understand any plan more complicated than hitting someone over the head with a mallet."

"Hey, I fooled her into thinking I wuz Batwoman, didn't I? You think I'm so dumb, but I was a doctor! I got a job at Arkham! You think they let just anyone work there?" Harley's eyes wandered to Grodd. "Oh, look at the cute monkey..."

The charade over, Grodd ripped free of his so-called bindings. "Enough of this pointless unphallused mating! Spread the dark one's legs! I'll show her I'm ape enough for her...!"

"With what?" Ivy asked, weaving her vines into a new costume. "I hope you're not expecting me to grow you a cock big enough for her to notice she's being raped."

"Yeah!" Harley cried, affronted. "She only does that for me!"

"The dark one must pay for her insolence!"

"Remember the plan," Ivy said wearily. "Our leader, who we have both so equitably agreed to follow, wants the one named Vixen," she emphasized the name, "alive and unharmed."

"I'll leave her alive. To speak of her unwilling pleasure for the rest of her days!" Grodd pounded his chest in emphasis.

Ivy was unimpressed. "If she finds out she had sex with you, she may just drop dead of disappointment."

"Yeah, keep it in your pants, Grodd!" Harley taunted.

"He doesn't wear pants," Ivy reminded her. "Let's just get her back to base. We all still have parts to play tonight, before the heroes realize they're on notice. Once that's done, we'll see about getting you laid." The botanist's green eyes roamed Harley's body. "Perhaps I can convince Harley to dig up her banana costume from Halloween. She seems to have a thing for men who don't have much in the way of manhood. Errr, I meant humanity." She smiled brightly. "Really."



The Equilibrium Deviance Ch. 02



In the Watchtower, Power Girl practically vibrated with need. Here she'd almost gotten to see the famous Poison Ivy at work, maybe at the center of a circle-jerk with the whole Batclan or pleasuring herself with some vines, but fucking Batwoman had knocked her out and taken her inside. Once more, Karen was bored as hell; even worse now because for a moment there, she'd thought she would get to have a sexy battle like some people got into all the time, but no. Biggest set of cans in the business (Phantom Lady was all padding) and all people wanted to do with her body was put their monkey-brain in it. 

Karen was about to direct the Watchtower's spy satellites over LA and see if any outdoor porn was being filmed when she remembered. A month ago, she'd gotten an e-mail from the Colors of Bennetton people asking if she would participate in a beach photoshoot that amounted to a free vacation. She'd been tempted—Donna Troy was the photographer, so she wasn't worried about any Terry Richardson shit—but knowing of some of Bennetton's shock jock antics, decided against it. What Would Superman Do, as she often asked. But now, quite a few of the more exotic Leaguers had asked and gotten time-off to attend the week of shooting. 

Vacation. Hotel minibar. Sandy beaches on a private island. Bikinis. There had to be something to catch her interest there. And who know, maybe it really was an evil plot to take out, oh, Jade and Fire. She spun the view screen to the Jamaicas, where one small island could only be accessed by people who happened to fly... 

*** 

"I'm sorry, I'm gonna pop on over to Star City to check in on Tora," Fire said before taking off, her flame as green as his skin. Gar sighed. He really had just wanted her to look at the screenplay for his new movie. He had a girlfriend, after all. Technically. He'd always said it didn't count if you were in another dimension, but did Los Angeles count as one of those? 

From Inagua-2, an island recently brought to the surface during the Imperix Crisis, it certainly seemed that way. Sunk long ago by volcanic activity, the white island that was all beach, the size of a baseball diamond or two, with a sizable pubic patch of palm trees and ferns ringing the small lagoon that holed it. Miraculously, it retained a cottage built by Spanish explorers—a multilevel villa of sorts with cobblestone walls and a palm frond roof, with even a fence of stacked rocks. Cleaned of decades' worth of seaweed, it'd become the hallmark of Donna's photography. 

Gar perched on top of it in a comfortable pelican form. Seeing the heroes sunning themselves on the beach, he didn't quite feel like being his schlubby green self at the moment. 

It wasn't that he was out of shape. He didn't have man boobs, no matter what Go Fug Yourself said! It was just that he had body hair—he turned into animals—and his belly was more Pillsbury Doughboy than Budweiser... down on the beach, Jade had more of a six-pack than him. Vibe, Metamorpho, they weren't even models, much less actors, and they looked better than him. Face it, Gar ol' buddy, not all child stars age well. You're lucky you're green, at least. Otherwise you wouldn't even have made it onto this calendar. 

"My, what an especially handsome penguin," Kory said, touching down on the ridge of the roof. 

Gar wondered if she could notice a bird gasping. She fit the campaign's ideals to a tee—her exotic gold skin, her completely green eyes. And though she'd arrived on Earth a stone-cold warrior, further chiseled by her captivity with the Gordanians, time and age had mellowed her, rounded her out, replacing her wasp-waist with a voluptuous body of lushness and softness, matching her plump ass and teardrop breasts. But she was still as strong and tall as ever. Gar felt short besides most of the superheroes who'd agreed to do this shoot for charity, but at six foot four, Kory made all of them just as tiny. And he never minded standing next to her one bit. 

"Pelican," Gar squawked, shifting back into his humanoid form. He wore board shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, with a straw hat rounding out the modest look. He didn't even try to wear the kind of swimsuits that most of the others got away with. 

Kory was mercifully wearing a sarong to go with a cut-off tanktop that Gar just knew would turn translucent as soon as it touched a drop of water. For now, though, she actually looked like the same species as his hairy ass. "Donna's looking for you. She wants to know when you'll be ready to shoot." 

Gar shook his head. "Kor, look at these guys. Metamorpho is made of chemicals and he looks like he could bench more than me. You sure you want to go through with it?" 

"They're just photographs, Gar. Messing around and letting Donna take pictures of us. Why wouldn't I want to do that with such a good friend as you?" 

"I just don't want to embarrass you, ya know? Look at you. You're a goddess, Star. I don't want you to take some pictures with me, like it's nothing, and then have some Perez Hilton wannabe run a story on it: 'look at the dog dating the monkey.' Happened when I dated Tia Carrera." 

Kory stood, her long legs almost pure muscle, only softening at her thick thighs. "Garfield Logan, I would never be embarrassed to be associated with you. You're funny and cute and brave." She slid down the pitched roof to hover beside him, putting a strong hand on his bicep and tightening it appreciably. "And I seem to recall a time when you brought me more pleasure than 'Perez Hilton' ever could." 

Gar was suddenly thankful he was green. Hard to tell when he was blushing. Way back in the day—back when he actually had a Hollywood career—Kory had been broken up with Dick and he'd been broken up over Terra. She was an alien after all; she'd only seen it as cheering him up. And though she wasn't his first, she was the first who didn't insist on him staying in human form... 

The memories swirled in Gar's head, as large and imposing as the mammaries that, with one intake of breath, looked about to burst through her shirt. God, he could give a guided tour of her nipples... "Are you ready, Gar?" a clear voice called from below. 

"Oh yeah..." Gar fought down the answering surge in his groin. Things were different now. Even if Kory was still... Kory, he had a girlfriend. Mary-Beth Borsellino. And she was great, she was, she really was. A make-up artist back in the Hills, she'd written an unproduced screenplay that (if Fire hadn't played coy) was actually getting some traffic. Of course, she wasn't as attract... as intriguing as Kory, but then, who was? And she was open-minded. Very open-minded. It was like Gar's mom had always said: dog people should date dog people. 

Before he could embarrass himself further, he hopped down to the sandy lawn, where Donna was waiting in the doorway. One look from those piercing eye and he felt like she could see right into his fantasy life. 

Gar was a pervert, no two ways about it—a dirty old man in training, he called himself—but even with his tastes running to big boobs and rap video asses, he was nowhere near foolish enough not to recognize Donna's beauty. The crazy thing about her was how close she was to Kory while being pretty much completely different. Kory was fierce, animalistic, her sexuality exuberant and in-your-face. Donna was just the opposite: slender, classically beautiful, with an elegant face that spoke of wisdom while Kory's was full of childlike innocent and full emotion. 

And, Gar noted, Donna's breasts were small, but only in comparison to Kory's monstrous 36Es. Her lacy summer dress was a little translucent, letting him see the black one-piece underneath, and some of the C-cups it hid. Gar chided himself again. Imagine, a guy like him and Wonder Woman's kid sister... 

Laughing fondly at his antics, even if they were as mild as pulling a face, Donna beckoned him into the cottage. The interior did not match its rustic exterior; Donna had not merely renovated the place, but turned it into a state-of-the-art studio. Tiny wireless lights were lined up on the ceiling beams, just waiting for Donna to fly up and direct them as she wished, while snakes of cabled wires darted between the floorboards. They fed power to huge digital cameras, which would film the proceedings as raw footage for additional projects. But Gar didn't worry about that. He focused on the bed those lights were spotlighting—his stage. 

"If you could just change into this," Donna said, picking up a box. 

"I don't know, usually I just do animals..." Gar took the box and looked inside. There was not much to look at. A set of Armani bikini briefs, so scant that if they were yellow instead of black, Dick could've worn them. "Uh, Donna? Love of my life? Apple of my eye? Where's my pants? T-shirt? Maybe a nice cape..." 

"Kory picked it out," Donna said, a little defensively. "It's not like she'll be wearing much more." 

"Well, she has more to show." Gar opened his shirt. "Look at me, Donna. I look like the cast of Fargo." 

"I think you're handsome," she assured him, rustling his greenish hair. "You're Beast Boy, after all. Why should you have manscaping or body-sculpting or any of that other metrosexual nonsense? You're the call of the wild! The king of the jungle!" 

"Yeah, I also worry that might be a little racist? I used to be white, after all." 

"I won't tell if you won't." Donna craned her neck to yell to the back of the cottage. "Kory, Gar's being a little bitch about his wardrobe. Tell him you won't let him see you in your outfit until he's in his!" 

"What she said." From the backdoor to the covered porch, Kory's arm appeared. It held the T-shirt. Gar knew she hadn't been wearing anything under it. A moment later, the shirt fluttered to the ground. "You want to see me in this outfit, Gar. You really want to see me in it." 

Gar gulped. Too chivalrous, that was his problem. He'd do anything for the dames. With a look to Donna, she turned her back, and Gar was free to quickly change into the briefs. Hairy legs and soft stomach, all came out to play. Gar even took his hat off. 

When Donna turned around, she gave him some applause that was only half mocking. As a shapeshifter, Gar might not know how to give himself a skin color found in nature, but he knew how to put the banana in the hammock. He had his priorities in order. 

"Okay, Star, he's dressed," Donna called. "All of him..." 

Kory came out tugging at her bottoms to make sure they fit snugly. Not that there was much of them to fit. A violent white, the panties hugged the very lowest part of her stomach, just above her russet pubic hair, and drum-taut on her generous hips. Behind, a narrow band of cloth barely concealed the division between her petal-soft buttocks. The two-piece's top did little more to cover her; it was a band a mere few inches wide which met in a knot between her breasts, tied cruelly tight to prevent it from slipping. And so the band barely cleared the edges of her nipples, leaving the rest of her breasts, the bursting fullness of them, exposed. 

Gar was suddenly wishing he hadn't shifted himself so well-hung. It was noticeable enough when he wasn't in the presence of two gorgeous woman, one practically naked. But changing it now would make for some very penetrating questions. 

"Okay, lovebirds, get on the bed." Donna picked up her weapon of choice, a Nikon F Mount with a Zeiss 55mm lens. "You know what they say. Green and gold is the new orange and teal." 

Gar sat down on the bed, trembling with excitement and terror. When he shaded his eyes against the glare of the lights, his palm was sweaty. "So, uh, what should I do?" 

Donna set up in front of him, kneeling down with her camera erect, though Gar could barely look at her while Kory was sitting down beside him, her legs folded under herself. 

"Just act natural, casual," Donna said, while Gar stared at the orange glow of Kory's skin and the waterfall of red hair that clothed her more than her underthings did. "Act as though you've just made love, as if you're eager to consummate the relationship once more, but won't rush, you refuse to rush. So you go to sleep, enjoying Kory's presence. Enjoy being alone with her. Forget I'm here. Just make love to her with your aura. Do what comes naturally." 

Gar found it hard to justify fiddling with Kory's aura when her tits bounded and rippled with each tiny breath she took. "So we just, uh, sleep together?" he asked her. She was really good at getting into character. She stared at him with open hunger in her eyes. 

Wordlessly, she stretched herself down onto the pillows, cat-like, before patting the space to her right. Clumsy and awkward, Gar positioned himself beside her, face-up, knee up to distract from his half-hardness. Him make love to Kory? Now? Maybe when they were kids, Kory doing it as a lark, not knowing what she could get from Dick Grayson or, well, Donna, but now that he was nearly in his thirties? How was he supposed to be casual about that? He certainly wouldn't be sleeping if some miracle had thrown Kory into bed with him. He'd be giving it to her all night long! 

Abruptly Gar looked to Kory, as if she could hear his thoughts—or, looking down, see them. And she did wear a feline grin that made him think she was a mindreader on top of everything else. 

"Okay," Donna said, "let's just do something standard to warm up. Gar, you lie on your back; Kory, I want you to cuddle up with him." 

"Certainly," Kory purred. On her side, she vined her left leg over both of his, slid her body into his side, set her left hand on his belly's treasure trail. Gar could've groaned at the feverish warmth of her touch. She always had burned hot. Then her breasts touched his arm, so vast that his elbow slid right between them, and Gar felt his eyes rolling back in his head. 

"Perfect!" Donna said, the snap-flash of her camera bringing Gar back to his senses. It was business, it was a photo shoot, one of his best friends was taking pictures! And another best friend, a platonic best friend, was just acting for the sake of the shoot. "Now Kory, play with his hair a little." 

"With pleasure!" 

Her long, callused fingers dove between Gar's mop of hair, finding his scalp with the pads of her fingers, drawing little patterns that nicked his head with her warrior-short nails. Gar found himself cooing—his left arm sliding under Kory so he could splay his hand on the small of her back. Natural. He was just acting natural. 

Another few snap-flashes, keeping Gar centered. Then Kory flopped away from him, lying on her back in a sculpture of repose. "Now do me." 

Gar managed to include "Excuse me?" in the strangled noise he made. 

"Lie down on me, like I did you." 

"I..." Another snap-flash caught the befuddled lust in Gar's eyes. "If that's what you want..." 

He shifted next to her, trying to find a way to spoon with her that wouldn't touch her pendulous breasts. Hard to do when they rose like a mountain range off her body. He was still gaping at her when he felt her hands rising to either side of him, closing around his face. She ushered his head down to her belly, tucking him against it so he was looking down her body at her panties. From this angle, he could see the wiry hairs trapped by her elastic waistband. 

"Get one like this," Kory said, snap-flash, "and one like this..." Her hands maneuvered Gar once more, leading him up her stomach to her sternum, where she laid his chin. He looked up between her heaving breasts to that lovely, rounded face, feeling a bit like a doll with her manipulating him so readily. Snap-flash. "And now like this." Kory said, picking him up by the hair and depositing him right on her breasts. 

Gar might've blacked out, because the next thing he was aware of was a snap-flash and Kory's warmth drawing away from him. The rest of the world came into focus. Donna was saying "I'm going to move around to your side, Gar," and her camera whirred as it crossed over his tense body. Donna was on the bed now, on the other side of him from Kory, kneeling over him with her long, hard lens aimed right at him. In bed with the two gorgeous women, women he'd spent his entire adolescence willing to give his left nut to catch in the act, much less join in... he hardened like drying cement. 

"Kory," she said, "slide around on top of Gar. Put your, err, your behind up top, you know? I want some shots of you... like that." 

Gar watched breathlessly as Kory slid her body down to the foot of the bed, her muscular calves at the headboard, the strip of cloth that ringed her pubis and ass right next to Gar's head. She laid her cheek almost on Gar's crotch, the light forest of abdominal hair grazing her lips. Gar was horrified to find himself moaning. Snap-flash. The camera caught Kory's face right beside the bulge in Gar's briefs. 

"Gar..." Kory's voice was sweet and plaintive, like she was on the verge of begging him. "Pull on my panties?" 

"What? What? What?" 

"Pull my panties down. Just a little. It'll make for a great shot." Kory looked innocently up at Donna. "Won't it, my love?" 

Donna's brow furrowed. "Yes, I suppose, but Kory, Gar isn't a professional like us, he may not want to..." 

"I'll do it," Gar said quickly. Without another thought, he reached out and plucked the string of Kory's bottoms with his finger. Barely controlled himself before he pulled it all the way down, instead applying only enough force to peel the panties down an inch. Snap-flash. 

The camera shutter no longer made Gar feel like this was regimented, artificial. It made it feel—surreal. Like this was a dream. Anything could happen. 

"My turn!" Kory said sweetly. 

And, gripping Gar's briefs firmly in both hands, she pulled them all the way down. 

*** 

Donna found herself, gaping, not just at Kory's actions, but at Gar. Despite his macho protestations, he'd never been the most masculine sort. He had a slender build that had gone a little to seed, giving him a soft stomach, a pair of arms that in spandex were naked without bulging biceps, legs that were almost effeminately slim. But his cock—the moment his underwear no longer contained it, it leapt up, a thickened length of flesh to give a horse envy... 

Donna almost wondered if that was where he'd gotten it. It had to be ten inches long—and hard. Donna had known some monsters that big or bigger, but issues of blood flow often made it hard for them to truly get it up. Gar, though—Gar seemed to have blood to spare. Donna felt an unmistakable throb creeping through her body, as wet as her mouth was now dry, and she stared at the organ like she would a baseball bat during a pitch. 

Kory saw her staring. She touched Gar with her soft orange hand. Snap-flash. Donna took the picture without thinking as she watched Kory begin to caress Gar, sliding her hand possessively, proudly over the endless green pole. 

Donna suddenly felt envious, thinking of all the times she'd been a good friend to Gar, a great friend, while Kory had been mooning over Dick. Who was he to keep this from her? Who was Kory to take it now? She flashed with anger at Kory for the ease with which she fondled that huge weapon, and with herself for not having the courage to see if it truly was as magnificent as it appeared. 

But Donna shook off her resenting jealousy. It was not the Amazon way. Besides, a cock that big, how could it not rip her in two? Snap-flash. Still, she thought of it as her finger mindlessly triggered her camera. For the longest time, her only relationship had been the casual one she shared with Kory, who was often off with Dick and the Outsiders, or Titans, while Donna was drawn into Diana's orbit. And as satisfying as she found Kory emotionally, as well as other women physically, the Amazon way encouraged cosmopolitanism... and how long had it been since she'd had something worth taking a picture of? 




The Equilibrium Deviance Ch. 02



Her wild eyes on Donna's face, Kory leaned down and kissed the base of Gar's cock, the grove of pubic hair that surrounded it. Gar was paralyzed, laying there was if Kory were paying him the ultimate homage. Snap-flash. A gulp of precum emerged from his bulbous cockhead. Snap-flash. Kory moved up to it like a cat stalking a canary, snap-flash, her tongue peeking out between her full lips, snap-flash, her green eyes only seeing that little berry of ejaculate waiting to be plucked, snap-flash, Gar turning even greener as light-red veins stood out on his rod, snap-flash... 

In a sudden fit of self-consciousness, Gar was rolling off the bed, barely clearing it before he turned into a donkey. The floor groaned under his sudden weight, while Kory stared at his still quickening erection—even bigger in this form. 

"Sorry, sorry, I think I'd better go, take a break, got a cramp, bad cramp, walk it off, I'll walk it off—" Gar said, seemingly in one chanting syllable, and stampeded out the door before another white droplet could spill to the floor. 

Kory sighed. "I hate when Gar makes an ass of himself." 

*** 

On the beach, Gar rapid-fire shifted between forms—bear-duck-fly-horse-goat-canary-gecko-platypus. His erection remained maddeningly throbbing, until finally he settled on a sheep, his cock hidden by a wild, wooly hide... and unable to be touched by his quadrupedal limbs. 

Platinum of the Metal Men walked by on the way to a photo shoot, her silvery skin a sharp contrast to his own layer of green. "Sup?" he asked her. 

*** 

"That was really... inconsiderate," Donna said numbly, still holding the camera, having to stop herself from clicking the button. Kory still laid before her, the knot of her top loosened by the sudden burst of activity, while her panties had shimmied down below her clit. "I think we should... check on Gar... see if he's okay." 

"X'Hal!" Kory enunciated dryly, splaying herself before Donna. "Seeing that big cock—I just wanted it up inside me! All the way up in my womb! I wonder if he would let me suck it. That would be photogenic, right?" 

Donna's finger twitched. She heard a subvocal snap-flash in her head. But the photo shoot was over. Right? "He didn't agree to any of that—this was just supposed to be a little risqué, not pornography!" 

"He wanted it. You wanted it. And you know I want it. I always want it..." Kory spread her legs. It was too much for her tight panties. They stretched right open as Kory's feet migrated to either side of the bed. Donna saw everything. "Keep shooting, Donna. Aren't I sexy? Don't you want a picture of this—so you'll always remember—so you can jill off and say my name when I'm not there to fuck you myself?" 

Donna's finger hit the button; snap-click. She could almost feel the vibrations of the camera inside her body as she was pulled in closer, closer, getting a better angle on Kory's soft orange center. "Kory, we're all... friends..." 

Kory reached down, pulling the lips of her cunt open, showing where her flesh was wet and pink. "Put that camera right in my cunt, Donna! Fuck me with your camera!" 

The camera was on Kory's womanhood, but Donna's eyes were on Kory's face as the lens touched her. She saw the wanton whorishness in Kory as her hips spiked up, her cunt pressed tightly to the glass, her labia beginning to swallow the thick, hard cylinder. 

"Is it a good shot?" Kory asked, as the lens sunk into her. 

Donna knew what she wanted, because it was what they both wanted. She let go of the camera, letting Kory masturbate herself with it, and put her hands to far better use—pulling her dress up her body. Her blood-engorged labia stood out starkly through her one-piece, and the only thing more appealing than the thought of pulling the swimsuit's crotch aside for Kory's tongue was letting Kory lick her right through it. Donna clambered onto the bed, mounting Kory's face, forcing her head down into her pillow of fiery red curls as she straddled the mouth that had brought her so much pleasure. 

She'd left the camera on an automatic timer. Snap-click, snap-click, snap-click. Donna could almost feel it, like it was between her legs instead of Kory's. 

"We can't," Kory said. 

"What?" Donna demanded. Snap-click on her cataclysmic dismay. 

"I'm sorry," Kory continued, snap-click, with a moan that made no secret of how good the camera felt probing into her. "But we can't." 

"Why in Zeus's ballsack not!?" 

"It wouldn't be fair. To Gar." Snap-click as Kory maneuvered the lens out of herself. "We got him all worked up—" 

"You did..." 

"You and I. It's not fair that he should go jerk off into the ocean somewhere while we get to enjoy..." Kory looked down at their intertwined bodies. Snap-click. "All this." 

"You mean...?" 

"We have to include him." Kory shut the camera off. It was out of film anyway. "We have to include him right now." 

*** 

Feeling some new control over himself, Gar shifted back to human a little ways into the jungle, his briefs now just about able to contain his erection. A man had to know his limitations; he wasn't going back into that cottage without taming the beast. Dropping his briefs to his ankles, he closed his eyes and tried to think of a woman that wouldn't make him feel guilty as sin. It was hard, what with the superhero community being as incestuous as it was and him in the Teen Titans, like a day-care camp for junior capes. 

Wonder Woman? No, she was pretty much the same person as Donna. Power Girl? She was the same person as Supergirl, that sweet kid who called him "Mr. Logan" whenever she had a question. Catwoman? Well, one, he'd been a cat and they were not the least bit sexy, two, he was sure there was no way either Dick or the new Robin hadn't tapped that, so just awkward. 

Gar was pretty sure he was about to masturbate to the thought of someone in the Justice Society—God—when the brush stirred behind him. He pulled his briefs up just in time for Kory to emerge, her top and bottoms back in pristine working order. 

"There you are, Gar. Donna thought you'd left us." 

Gar knotted his hands in front of his crotch as casually as possible. "Just needed a walk—little fresh air—time to think..." 

"And have you been thinking, Gar? Thinking hard?" 

He gulped. Was this what it was like to be Dick Grayson? 

Kory giggled, sounding not quite herself. "Donna and I were hoping you could give us a ride." 

"A... a ride?" 

"Yeah. Donna's always wanted a nice horseback ride on the beach, but it's not like there are any horses on the island. Are there, Gar?" 

Gar wasn't sure what she was implying with that last bit there. Was she talking about his dick? Oh, man. "No. I guess not!" he added brightly. 

"You wouldn't mind, would you? Both of us riding you?" 

"No, of course not—you're not that heavy, I don't think." 

Kory's eyebrows quirked. "No... we're not. Why don't you change right now, Gar? I'd really like to be the first one on your back." 

Gar felt himself changing almost involuntarily, like the horse was a throbbing, powerful thing thrusting out from his former body. He tried to remember—didn't he have something to do? Oh, yeah, a Skype session with Mary-Beth. Keeping in touch with her. He could probably even interest her in helping him out with his lower-body problem; not that he'd been able to think of her that way after Kory had peeled his banana. Guilt: he should be a goddamn Bat with all this goddamn guilt. 

Now fully equine, Gar looked at Kory—now eye to eye with her instead of a head shorter. She had such a great smile. Surely Mary-Beth would understand him enjoying himself with Kory and Donna, his old friends, while he was on vacation? He could talk to her anytime, as soon as he got back. How often was he in the tropics with Kory and Donna all to himself? Err, all alone. Err... 

Before he could think better of it, Kory had leapt onto his back, her strong legs tightening on his flanks. A loose hand in his mane directed him as reins would the most well-trained pack animal, and Gar was quick to follow the instructions of his rider. 

Astride him, Kory leaned down to nuzzle her breasts to Gar's mane and neck. She was going to enjoy this. So very much. 

*** 

For some reason, the smell of Gar as a horse struck Donna when Kory came riding up. It was raw and virile. She knew it was all in her head—smells came from animals being animals, being dirty, Gar had showered just that morning, by all rights the horse should smell of no more than his Axe Body Spray. So maybe it was just the sight of Kory, riding that stallion like she was born to it, that made Donna ache with yearning. 

She'd nearly convinced herself that Kory hadn't meant what she'd thought she'd meant. Of course Kory didn't want to sleep with Gar, didn't want to sleep with him and Donna as well. She just meant, instead of kicking him to the curb to selfishly make it like two horny teenagers, that all three of them should do something together. Something platonic. Friendly. Clothed. 

And working on her photography, Donna had barely had time to explore the island on foot, as nature intended, hiking to the interior of the island with its shining lagoon as she'd promised herself she would upon seeing it from the air. So they'd take a break, ride out to that blue lagoon, and then later, after Gar had gone to sleep—and probably called his girlfriend, he had a girlfriend—then Donna and Kory... 

Hera, why was she thinking now of what a lovely horse Gar made... a sleek, beautiful, shining beast? 

Kory extended her hand and Donna took it, swinging up onto Gar's bare back with wide-spread legs, gently cresting the powerful musculature. Before she settled behind Kory, an almost excruciating spasm dizzied her. Donna wrapped her arms around Kory's waist, actually frightened she would fall from Gar. As they rode into the jungle, the rhythmic motion of the green horse underneath her worked strongly upon Donna. She found herself making an effort not to let her hands slide down the front of Kory's bottoms. 

It was little more than a half-mile's ride inland, but Kory's nonchalant permissiveness and Gar's literal animal magnetism made Donna's energy unbearable. She wanted to tackle Kory from the horse, scream to the alien that she must have her or die in agony. And yet, they rode on, the slip and slide of Donna's one-piece beneath her making Gar's every movement another invitation to the stirring in her deepest places. Aching burned her thighs where they strained wide around the barrel of her mount. 

Finally, they emerged from the underbrush upon the lagoon. It was a lipstick mark on the landscape, a dozen feet deep at the middle, with clear waters that were glass-smooth, shining right down to the unbroken white sand beneath. Towering palm trees and boulders sheltered the deserted water on all sides, except for a wide clearing of beach that Gar aimed for. Cool air fanned Donna's face of the perspiration that streamed down her cheeks as Gar leapt over a rocky plate. Kory, however, took off mid-leap, carrying Donna with her in a steep glide into the water. The Amazon's hair flew in the wind as she clung to Kory, as if she couldn't fly herself. 

"Come on, Donna!" Kory cried. "Let's get wet!" 

Gar, in lockstep, turned back to himself before he came down, tumbling onto the soft wind sand and stopping on his side, one leg peaked, one arm cradling the side of his head, a perfectly chauvinistic pose for him. 

"Sometimes I wish I could tan," Gar sighed to himself. 

He watched—in a 'oh, let's enjoy this edifying nature documentary' way—as Kory dipped Donna over the water, teasing dropping her in. He could tell they were enjoying the warm sun on their luscious bodies too much to end it with a cool dive just yet. But time waited for no man. Eventually, Donna get fed up, wrestling Kory down into the balmy lagoon, water swirling deliciously around them just as the gulls did high overhead. Gar thought of turning into one—riding the warm deltas like a tiny little cloud—but then Kory came up for air. She'd left her top bobbing in the water like a dead jellyfish. 

"Kory!" Donna cried, coming up nearby, shocked as Kory relaxed into the water, the choppy waves alternately exposing and revealing her bosom—opulent breasts of creamy vermilion that jutted from her chest with only the slightest regard for gravity. "I thought we agreed—" 

"I love being naked!" Kory interrupted, slipping back below the surface in a dive that showed off her shapely ass, then her flashing legs kicking her under the water. 

Donna squealed as Kory slipped up to her, undoing one strap off her bikini. Donna held it together, trying to make her wet fingers slide the clasp back together, but it was too slippery. Or maybe she just didn't want it to go in. She let go and her strap dangled down her front and back, her one-piece sinking down her body on one shoulder like a caveman garment. 

Kory smirked mischievously, her fingers already itching to undo the other strap. But instead, she turned to face Gar. "Come on in, Beast Boy! The water's fine!" 

Gar was on his back now—one leg up to hide his erection behind it. He had a front row seat to Kory and Donna, tangling, frolicking like sea nymphs, splashing each other and laughing, every drop of water in the warm sun a new jewel drawing his attention to another contour of their glistening bodies. "That's okay, I, uh, I ate less than thirty minutes ago, so I'd better stay here. And, err, I was thinking of building a really epic sandcastle..." 

Donna dunked Kory from behind. "Boo!" Through the water, Gar could see each and every one of Kory's exuberant curves, only refracted by the rippling waves. It occurred to him that the only way he could have a better view was to actually join them in the lagoon. It also occurred to him to wonder just how fast he could break up with Mary-Beth Borsellino. 

Which was an awful, terrible, horrible, bad-guy thing to think. He wasn't Green Arrow or anything. When he got into a relationship, he was committed. But it was really hot out and the water was cool and... 

Well, he couldn't show them his dong again. In the cottage was understandable, but this was just some innocent... horsing... around. 

Before he knew it, Gar was a crab, scuttling down into the brisk surf. In the white water, with the sand astir around his legs, he shifted back to human, already up to his waist before they could catch a glimpse at him. "Gadzooks, this water's cold!" 

Still, Kory stared down through the once-calm water, now roiling with their presence. "Not from what I'm seeing." 

Donna came up for air, clear blue water coursing over her perfect, delicate features, and followed Kory's line of sight. "Oh, Gar..." 

And suddenly he felt like an absolute fool, a buffoon, a craven idiot sporting a hard-on in front of a friend who'd been nothing but good for him, whose only expectation of him was that he treat her like a friend in turn—not a piece of meat. What kind of a man was he? Was he a man at all, or an animal that— 

Suddenly, Kory was tackling Donna into the water, the two of them disappearing in a resounding splash. When Donna came back up, her one-piece was gone. Kory was waving it nearby like a banner. 

Donna's body, pale and perfect, was exposed in all its lovely, even proportions to Gar. She was not the overabundance of flesh that Kory was, the sheer enthusiasm of sexuality, she was more like an exquisite marble statue, one sculpted by the same artisan who had made Wonder Woman. She wasn't that masterpiece, but she was a work of art in her own right, with high, pert breasts and flat, taut buttocks wonderfully befitting her slender frame. And Donna just stood there, her lower body somewhat veiled by the water, but her torso utterly exposed in the open air, and further delineated by the beads of moisture running the full length of her body. 

Gar could see a certain conflict in her eyes, a shared indecision with him. She, like he, wondered if they were really doing this. If it was really them. But before either of them could move, Kory was back. 

She approached Donna, hands at her sides so the coral tips of her breasts were the first part of her body to meet her friend and lover. Donna looked at Kory with confused lust, her eyes flitting to Gar, back to Kory, downward at her own nudity as if she couldn't quite square all these disparate pieces together. But when Kory embraced her, their lips fell together and Donna herself cupped Kory's buttocks within their linen-white confine, drawing the two into one tender coupling. 

They slipped into the lagoon water, their hands slid 'round the curves of each other's hips, keeping either one from escaping, as the rippling water rose to engulf them. 

Then they were in motion, hands joined, propelling their bodies with simple dolphin-undulations to Gar. He stood there, reminding himself to think of... whatshername... as Kory swam between his legs, Donna pulling down his briefs. All of a sudden, his erection was wagging in the water like a submarine ready to launch. 

Gar was quick to react. He turned into a puppy. 

"Awww!" Donna cried, picking him up and holding him against her chest—something she'd been also considering when he was human. "Kory, look at him! Look at his widdle nose!" 

Kory wore a bemused, dissatisfied smirk as she flanked them, petting Gar's fur almost with distaste. "I'm not really a dog person." 

Nonetheless, she squished Gar's small body to her chest, perhaps just to draw in Donna's hands. Gar felt the heat of her breasts like two great furnaces on either side of him, the abundant flesh pressing in on him as well. He felt as though his whole body was plunging into her, drawn into her soft warmth, but no matter how deep she breathed, the pressure of her skin on his would not grow tight enough. He wanted to truly penetrate her—to impale her! And that was before she started scratching him behind the ears...! 

Kory's nose wrinkled, though. "Friend Gar, is there any way you could turn into something that smells better wet?" 

"Well, you know what happens when you rub a guy like this." And before his better sense—which tended to sound a lot like Dick Grayson—could intervene, Gar transformed into a garter snake, only a foot long. 

Donna gasped—good-naturedly—her hand raising to her mouth. But Kory only smiled. "Yes, Gar. That's much better." 

And, drawing her panties out from her body with the thumb of one hand, she lowered Gar to her crotch. 

When the elastic band snapped back, Gar was pressed firmly to the volcanic heat of her wettened sex. He simply had no control left in him. Senses awash in the sweetness, the sheer power of Kory's pleasure, he began to explore his new surroundings—his wedge-shaped green head leading the way. 

Kory threw her head back to moan. Before her face disappeared from sight, Donna saw the smile on her lips. It wasn't one of Kory's usual wide grins. Donna would almost call it a Cheshire cat smile. 

Barbara Minerva, the Cheetah, was quite enjoying herself. 

*** 

It wasn't just the sex and or the revenge—not even the freedom—but the fact that they'd actually fallen for it. 

For years, she'd been shackled to the great god Urtzkartaga in an arrangement so torturous that not even the sadistic Wonder Woman could come up with a greater punishment (why else would Diana not seek to kill or depower her?). She had great power, yes, almost as much power as she could ever want, but with it came the pain... the dependence... the submission. Her mortal body wracked with a crippling ache, so that she was forced to be a slave to her god-husband, working like a junkie for her next fix, her next transformation into the Cheetah-spirit... invincible, unstoppable, a worthy foe of Wonder Woman or Superman himself! 




The Equilibrium Deviance Ch. 02



So it had gone until the goddess had come, and offered Minerva a new bargain. A new patronage. She would be freed from Urtzkartaga, but still retain all the power he gave her. In fact, she would have all the power she ever wished. For what was power if there were still those who could challenge her? Wonder Woman and her ilk. 

And the worst of the lot was Donna Troy, the little would-be Wonder Woman, the brown-noser, the wannabe, the pretender to the throne. As if it weren't bad enough that Diana had ensnared the world with her hypocrisy, she had a partner in crime. Well, Minerva knew the truth now. Knew Donna for a seething slut, just like her mistress. Minerva would enjoy using her friend's body to corrupt her even more. To push her past the point of claiming innocence. 

Only someone with Barbara Minerva's wits could know that Koriand'r's race were descended from felids; cats much like the earthly cheetahs that she emulated. With the help of the goddess, she had transformed not into the Cheetah, but into Starfire instead. Minerva liked her new body; so big and strong and beautiful, not at all like her old crippled form. She would enjoy using it to kill Diana when all this was over. Perhaps she'd even keep it, and the green one as well. He was proving more useful than he appeared. 

*** 

Donna gaped at Kory. For as long as they'd been friends, she'd marveled at Kory's beauty, at her uninhibited and proud sexuality, and at the warmth of her friendship. Each of them had been through their own private hells, but together, through long years and different teams and failed relationships by the dozens, they had stayed friends, partners, and more. They had helped each other hold to the better parts of their natures, their ideals, and they had brought each other pleasure beyond what either of them could ever imagine. 

They had shared partners, from males on the cusp of manhood to the most experienced female lovers of Paradise Island. They had been shared by hordes of men, women, and others, Kory's presence somehow bringing Donna to the ecstasy in her degradation. But this still shocked Donna, precisely because it was so familiar—not some ancient god, far-flung alien being, or extradimensional entity. It was Gar, their friend, their teammate, whose power was second nature to them. So normal to Donna, in fact, that she had never even considered how perversely he might apply it. 

Now, hip-deep in water, naked save for her spectacular mane of hair and the white panties whose crotch rippled with an undeniably phallic, serpentine body within, Donna saw that Kory truly had no inhibitions. There was no limit to what she could do, so long as it brought her pleasure. A part of Donna was provincial enough to think worse of Kory for that. And another part, a larger part—and Donna truly did not know if she liked that fact or not—was surely envious of what a good fuck Kory could get out of being such a goddamn slut. 

She herself almost shook with need, knowing she could not wait for Kory and Gar to finish this strange episode they'd begun. She didn't know if she wanted them to separate so that she could have Kory or so she could have Gar; when her hands rolled over her hips, her ass, she did not know whose hands she imagined feeling her up. Only that when Kory opened her arms, her lips already parted to receive Donna's kiss, the Amazon was happy to give it to her. 

The women pressed together, almost tight enough to crush Gar between them in their familiar tribbing. Donna felt the leaden cold bulging at Kory's groin and knew it was not as big as the snake Gar had transformed into a moment ago. Some of that modest length had entered the marshes of her wet pubic hair, slithering into the territory Donna had already charted so well with fingers and tongue. 

Donna could hardly begrudge Gar that entrance, when she herself had put in much larger than a snake's blunt head. 

With the effortless exertion of her flying power, Kory's feet left the lakebed. Still embracing Donna, they trailed forward until Donna's back hit a large, jagged rock—its hard contours no discomfort to her invulnerable skin. Kory mounted Donna, pressing their groins even tighter together, Gar's scaly body separating Donna's cunt lips. Donna whooped in enjoyment, fully committed to Kory's impulsiveness. She knew Kory would enjoy herself. She knew she would too. She just hoped Gar was enjoying her tight womanhood as much as she enjoyed feeling him there. 

There was no need to worry. All three of them were gone now, lost in the sex. Kory in particular lost in nestling her head between Donna's pert breasts, as if she'd never touched them before. 

*** 

Minerva had always hated Diana's breasts in particular, how they were so big, yet still perky. She'd longed for a way to enjoy their magnificence without giving Diana the actual pleasure of foreplay. Somehow Donna didn't seem quite as well-developed as her elder sister, but that just helped remind Minerva that it was not Diana who would be enjoying her attention. 

Fighting the urge to be rough with Donna, to use her short fingernails as the claws they weren't, Minerva took Donna's breasts in her hands. She squeezed them as hard as she dared, covering for it by putting one soft pink tip (so girly, so feminine) to her lips. Donna gasped with pleasure and Minerva knew it wasn't the first time she'd been manhandled in such a fashion. 

"You know what would make this just... perfect?" Donna asked, voice caught in her satisfied gasp. 

"No," Minerva whispered into her hardening nipple. "What?" 

"If Gar were a bit... bigger." 

Donna's nipple vibrated with Minerva's response. "So that there was enough for both of us?" 

"Yes... yes..." 

Minerva appeared to ignore Donna. She suckled onto Donna's nipple, stuffing more of it into her mouth, between her sharp teeth. The shock of pleasure lifted Donna's hips off the rock, dragging her clit over Minerva's thigh. Minerva's own contented hum deepened into a gurgle, feeling Gar shift inside her. She reached down into her panties and stroked his slender coils, eventually provoking Gar to retreat from the warmth of her sodden depths. With a rattle, Gar glided up from the stretched panties, winding around the pinch of Minerva's hourglass figure. He had shifted into a diamondback rattlesnake—body four feet long, tail sliding out the leghole of Minerva's panties to circle a perfect leg. 

"Care for a lovebite?" Gar asked, rattling again. "I wouldn't mind sucking the poison out of either of you..." 

"Do whatever you want," Minerva said. She was unable to resist biting her lip; sometimes receiving pain was almost as good as inflicting it. "Just so long as you do it to Donna." 

*** 

Still firmly coiled around Kory's shapely thigh, Gar flowed outward, momentarily slithering on the rock that supported them before finding Donna's shadow. He slid under her, his head slowly, blissfully moving between the snowy slopes of Donna's ass. 

"He's not going to bite me there, is he?" Donna asked of Kory. She slapped her friend's ass. "I get enough of that from you!" 

Kory almost ignored her, more concerned with continuing to mouth Donna's cleavage. She wanted to drink every drop of water from her body before it evaporated in the hot tropical sun. "Snakes like it nice and warm—and you have a very nice ass..." 

Donna shuddered in delighted disgust, but Gar had no intention of burrowing there. Very slowly, very deliberately, he worked his head up and back around Donna's hip, then up her stomach, between Donna and Kory's flexing bellies as they helplessly continued to revisit each other's lips. 

"You do have a nice ass," Gar said, his scaly body still winding through the crevice, "but you have even better tits..." 

And now he was between Donna's elegant breasts, squashed as they were against Kory's larger cleavage. When Donna looked down—something she was barely able to manage to Kory's tongue so desperate for her own—she saw Gar's eyes within the snake's satanic face, his forked tongue flickering exactly as rakishly as a smile would be on Gar's human lips. Moving in as if (Donna thought this facetiously) for a kiss, he looped around Donna's neck and slithered down her chest on the outside of her cleavage, though Kory pressed herself to that portion of his body as much as Donna held the rest, rubbing her nipples against Gar's cool scales. 

Donna spread her legs as well, and soon felt a cool mouth, colder fangs, nuzzling her wet folds—then the icy flame of a forked tongue on her clit. Her knees sagged, only Kory's embrace holding her up. The blocky head prodded into her a few times, like a great finger tapping between her legs, then slowly... irresistibly... the finger began to push inside. A steady, wonderful feeling of fullness that grew and grew... 

"Oh fuck," Donna breathed, "I have no idea who in the Pantheon even covers this!" 

Donna heard a rattle; Kory broke into a wide grin. Draping himself over her body, Gar had finally wound up with the very tip of his tail between her buttocks. It now flicked back and forth across her asshole—slow, tentative—almost searchingly—until, with a shout of surprised ecstasy, Donna felt the bulbous contours of the rattle plunge up her ass. 

Donna's jaw hung slack as Kory congratulated her with kisses, all up and down her pale breasts. Reaching behind her, Kory's callused fingers gripped either half of Donna's ass, forcing the peachy cheeks apart, allowing the stiff tail to cross deeper and deeper beyond her anus. 

In all her experimentation, Donna had never experienced this: something like two stiff pricks taking her from both front and behind, but really being the same lover! She and Kory shared another kiss, of love, of friendship, of boundaries mutually crossed; then Kory was scampering up the rock, thighs splitting, her perfect body now seated on Donna's face! 

Donna needed no instruction, no entreaty, no convincing. She seized Kory's hips as roughly as would be reverent, ripping the panties from her thighs to smear her face against the temple she'd come to love so much. And if Kory tasted a little different than usual, it was only because Gar had been inside her so recently, and so Donna loved the taste all the more. 

*** 

Oh yes, Minerva thought, barely able to keep her thoughts out of her moans, that's it, whore, whore to a whore, give your fellow whore what she wants. Give this alien bitch body your whore Amazon tongue. I'll enjoy it just as much as she would, though I could never want someone's mouth against my sex as much as Diana, who's never known pain, never known defeat, only know her Themysciran brothel her whole life. SUCK MY CLIT, MAKE ME COME! Oh, how I wish your little animal friend would bite you while he fucks you—make your blood mingle with your cum—you whore you whore YOU FUCKING WHORE-! 

Minerva saw no hypocrisy in thinking of Donna as such. After all, only a whore could make Minerva come as hard as she did. 

*** 

Minerva was not the only one who found herself responding to the three-way stimuli, though Donna's thoughts of her friends was far fonder—her pleasure far greater. She hugged arms and legs around Gar's coiled body as she was battered by ecstasy from both her ass and cunt, her body experiencing something more like a hurricane than a climax. 

Again and again, Gar struck, depositing his head a full foot inside Donna before withdrawing and striking against, while his tail continued to rattle inside Donna's rectum—the noise almost audible. Donna's answering juices doused a quarter of Gar's length in its crystalline sweetness, leaving Gar's scales glistening like he'd been bathed in oil. 

At length, Gar withdrew from Donna—the slow trickle from his exit dwindling until all that was left was Donna's angry red cunt, still slightly agape. Clutching Gar to her breast, Donna inched up the rock until she joined Kory atop it, resting her head on her friend's strong shoulder. They were dazed, their bodies still swimming in affection, but Donna knew it wasn't over yet—something Kory would soon learn. 

His 'neck' still stably coiled about Donna's inner thigh—the position from which he'd repeatedly launched himself inside her—Gar raised his head into the air, where it wavered uncertainly, tongue stabbing out to sniff the air. Gar's beady eyes, a sheen of red to them now, lighted on Kory's thighs. They glistened where the rest of her body had dried. Her juices, freshly squeezed from a well-pleasured cunt. 

His instinct more animal than man, Gar darted between Kory's legs, rolling his head in the fluid coating her legs and groin, thrashing, slithering, delighting in every aspect of her liquid climax. Kory moaned. Equally lost to her lust, she seized Gar in her hands as if she meant to throttle him. But instead, she brought him up her body to her mouth. Her lips parted wide. With the same skill she would use on Dick, she took the snake's entire head within her mouth. 

Donna was shocked at first, but only at first. She had no time to judge Kory. She wanted too badly to join in. She leaned into Kory's body, one hand groping a pendulous breast, and she licked up the length of Gar's body—tasting Kory on him, tasting herself on him, finally tasting Kory's lips as she licked all the way to Kory's face and was somehow in a three-way kiss with her two fellow Titans. 

Together, they licked, sucked Gar's head and body clean. Gar had frequently been called a man-child; now that he was clean, he quite boyishly wanted to get dirty again. Kory and Donna had no objections. 

"Bigger," Kory whimpered, as soon as Gar had retreated from her throat. "As big as you can go. Right, Donna?" 

Donna could not speak, she could only nod frantically, as if each bob of her head was a demand: Yes! Yes! Yes! 

A moment later, the two women fell into the water. They hadn't been prepared for the sudden weight of a boa constrictor. Eight feet long and as wide around as a big man's forearm. 

*** 

Power Girl scratched her knee, watching on the Watchtower's satellite read-out as Argent, buried up to her neck in the beach, gave herself a pair of sandy double-Ds. 

If that excitement was happening at the beach, she could only imagine the fun inland, where the canopy and rock covered everything. 

*** 

There was no time to waste. A few moments later, and with the trained efficiency of Dick Grayson's team, all three were coiled together. Kory and Donna embraced with both arms and legs, their very hair laced together along with the fingers of their left hands. Their breasts met, the nipples occasionally connecting electrically; their lips found each other with far greater ease. 

It was a position Donna had first tried in the zero-gravity of space travel, and perfected in the non-Euclidean geometry of Mount Olympus, both times with the selfsame partner. Now it easily adapted to their underwater coupling, with one major difference. In past encounters, the intimate position had been topped by their sexes meeting in a kiss every bit as fiery as that of their mouths. Now, Gar was in the way. 

The wide contours of his midsection, rough and smooth all at once, met both their pussies, massaging either women with every inch Gar moved. But that was not all Gar contributed to the coupling. He encircled both women with his long, girthy body, trapping them together, as close to their flesh as a tattoo. As they kissed and fondled each other, their hands often found a segment of his eight feet—one more thing to stroke and caress. Each discovery and rediscovery made Gar burn hotter. Already, the web he'd made of his body could feel Kory and Donna, both of them, all over, all at once. He felt breast and buttock, thigh and tongue—everything. And they felt him. Gar was lust made physical, both burning hot and soothing cool all at once. 

Linked by Gar in so many ways, the three held their embrace, slowly turning under water that sang with their writhing bodies, each only surfacing for the briefest of moments when in need of air, their revolutions bringing him or her on top. None needed air as much as a mere mortal would. 

The trio finally washed up on shore, polished to a sheen by the clear water, their kiss uninterrupted. Atop them, Kory was only convinced to give up on Donna's tongue by the flexing of Gar's powerful body against her midsection, finally persuading her to allow herself to be pushed up to a semi-erect position, Donna sprawled below her on her back. 

"What's the great big bloody idea?" Her accent suddenly quite different, almost... British. 

*** 

"I'll tell you what is big," Gar replied, and then his jaw unhinged. As a smaller snake would devour an egg so big that it would end up a disproportionate lump in the creature's belly, so Gar's upper and lower jaw crept over the contours of Kory's left breast. It was firm, warm pressure, encompassing far more of her flesh than a man's hand or mouth ever could, bathing all of her double-D in pleasure. 

Minerva wasn't so far gone in her lust as to not look to Donna, seeing if her slip had been detected. Fortunately, all she saw in Donna's eyes was painstaking need. The Amazon threw herself onto Minerva's right breast, making love to it with her mouth, only stopping to look up into Minerva's pure green eyes and say "I want your cunt too." 

After they were done, Minerva would really have to see about looking this one up. 

*** 

One hand gave Kory's breast a last squeeze; the other cupped Kory's beautiful face as a moan contorted it. Then Donna's fingers were sliding over the light down of Kory's soft belly until it thickened into a lush bush between her legs. Donna slipped her hand under the heavy cable of Gar's body and long experience let her immediately find Kory's clit. She rubbed at it with her thumb, and before she knew it, Kory's passage was slick and open to her fingers. In they went, Kory's womanhood sucking at them as hard as Donna was suckling upon Kory's coral-tipped areola. 

Love you, Donna thought. Love Gar. Love this team. 

She felt a confident finger prod into her ass, dilated enough by Gar's rattle to allow admittance. Donna returned the favor, fingering Kory's ass as hard as she dared. And all around them and between them, Gar hissed as loud as whitewater rapids.  

The sun beat down on them, drying the waters from their bodies, but unable to do a thing about the liquid dripping between their thighs. 

*** 

"OH, FUCK YES! OH, APHRODITE, OH, HERA, OH, ARTEMIS, ZEUS, ATHENA, ANYONE!" Donna cried. 

She laid side by side with Kory on sand that now heartily coated their moist bodies, the three having writhed about atop it in their pleasure. Gar was no longer between them, but all around them, tying the two together like living bondage. Their bodies had quickly responded to the loosening of each other's anal fingering; now Gar's head was buried in Kory's ass, pistoning in and out, while his tail was in Donna's, waving around like a wildly effective vibrator. Their cunts met in a beautifully slippery dance, soon joined by either woman's fingers, and there was nothing for any of them to know but pleasure. 

"X'hal!" Kory responded, her voice thick with irony that neither of the other two could hear. "X'hal, X'hal, fucking X'hal!" 

*** 

For over an hour the coupling continued. It was like a boulder had been dropped into the center of the lagoon they had swum in. At some point, the flecks of exploding water simply could not go any higher, the ripples could travel not further—the many penetrations of the multiorgasmic frenzy that gripped all of them could not help but ebb. 

Gar was the first to flag; even the mighty boa constrictor was hard-pressed to keep up with the superhuman endurance of the two beauties. Though he couldn't piston into either of them any longer, he stayed in his serpentine form, wrapping them up in his coils to shelter them from the hot sand, the sight and sounds and feel of them more pleasurable for him than the most depraved sex act he could share with any other women.