“Alright, Dick,” Catwoman said, “I’m heading out.”

Catwoman? No, Selina would be more accurate. She had dressed herself in elegance matching of her beauty. Her dress was sleek, form fitting, and of course black. It was simple in design. Strapless, with a small cut up the run of her right leg. Its simplicity was by design. It hugged her body, showing off every curve to a near 1:1 display of how it looked sans clothes. Her dress handled the introductions, but her body did the talking.

Of course, Selina Kyle wouldn’t go anywhere with some of the wealth Catwoman had earned her. A necklace, earrings, bracelets, rings, and even an ankle bracelet – all glittering gold. A few even with studded gems. Emeralds and diamonds, specifically. The only pieces of jewelry she wasn’t wearing were her nipple rings. Heavy eye liner to make her stunning green eyes pop. Eye shadow, blush, eye lash…things. Richard had no idea the purpose of each. But he could tell they worked in tandem to frame her face beautifully. They didn’t cover up imperfections or draw the eye away from trouble areas. They enhanced the beauty that was already there.

Finally, there was the lipstick. Blood red. As Selina had said in the past: black was for Catwoman, but red for Selina. Richard found he preferred black, but it was a close race with red. She could have put on polka dot lipstick and he’d still believe she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

“I’m going on a date tonight!” Selina spoke with sing song excitement usually reserved for a nervous teenager. Of course, she’d never show that kind of excitement in front of her date. She wanted him to feel like she was doing him a favor just by showing up. In truth, she had never been more excited. Her relationship with the mystery man from “work” was entirely a psychosexual one. Certainly, that was her preferred lane and speed; but when he asked her out on a date, a date date? Suffice to say, Richard got the work out of his life later that night.

Richard, trying to solve a mystery in his head, pointed at her impractically small handbag. He had long since given up on trying to vocalize his thoughts with her. She could only really hear him when he was up close. The squeaks were easy enough to pick up on but having to lift him up to get clarification annoyed her. So instead he just mimed as best he could.

“Hm? Oh, am I going to put you in there? Can’t do it, there’s no room,” she said, aware of how cramped the fashionable but impractical container was. “Plus, even if I could fit you in there, there’s a chance you may try to jump out and surprise my date, in some vain hope of being rescued,” she went on to explain.

He was more than a little hurt. To think that his mistress, his goddess, still thought he wanted to do anything other than serve her. If the police busted down the door demanding to know the location of Richard Falcone? He’d hide. Insult aside, he was confused as to where exactly he’d be staying while she was on her date. She never left him home alone, because A) he might try to escape, and B) because one of her cats might get to him. In truth, Selina did it to torture him further with her body, but he wasn’t entirely wrong.

The broken man looked her up and down, looking for an answer. He wouldn’t be staying in her bra because she wasn’t wearing one. One of the conditions of wearing a strapless dress that was being held up by bust size alone. She wouldn’t be shoving him down her panties because she also wasn’t wearing those. He’d learned that while watching her dress for her date. Maybe she could slip him up into one of her holes between her legs. However, tight though she was, there was always the risk of him slipping out. Shoes, perhaps? Unlikely. They were high heels, laced all the way up her calves. Also, they were open-toed. It’d be possible, but he could slip out easily, accidentally or intentionally. So where?

The sound of her returning the cap to one of her make-up applicators drew his attention. “There, all done. Ready to go?” she called down to her pet/toy/slave/object of revenge.

Now he was even more confused. He assumed he’d be going with her, sure, but after looking her over he guessed he might be staying behind. That she was going to trust him with home alone. Those three words shattered that theory, however. In moments like that, he defaulted to trusting in his mistress, and would follow blindly. For example, when Selina laid her open palm down in front of him, he immediately climbed aboard.

At level with her face, Selina began to speak. She spoke in a hushed whisper that was both easier for him to endure, as well as excited him. As mentioned before, Selina’s whispers couldn’t help but be sultry.

“Well, Dick, I gotta say, these have been a fun few weeks.”

A few weeks? He thought. It had felt like a lifetime. He had been constantly moved from light to dark, due to being shoved into different things. What light there was from the window was dim due to her curtains and preference for the dark. He knew it hadn’t had been a short excursion, but he thought it had to have been longer. Were a few weeks and a hot body really all it took to break him?

“And while I don’t believe in the phrase ‘too much of a good thing is bad for you,’ our fun has come to an end. Well, our fun together.”

His mistress, his goddess, his world had always been vague in what she said. She liked to keep him guessing, to prevent him from preparing. While her meaning, her intentions, weren’t crystal clear in that moment, she was more direct than she’d been with him in a long time. Since that first night when she laid out his crimes against her. Now, he felt rejected by his goddess. He felt terrified by the giantess.

“While I don’t think you’ve paid for all your crimes, even just against me,” she explained, reminding him of that first night, reminding him of his past life, “I’ve learned all I can from you. For that, I thank you.” That small sign of appreciation felt wonderful on the fresh wounds she was creating on his soul. “You’ve been an excellent teaching tool,” her words continued, filling him with pride and making him forget his worry, “and if I’m being honest? I kind of hope you got some enjoyment out of it as well.”

I did! I did, my mistress! My goddess! My world! My everything! He thought. He wanted to say the words, but he knew better than to speak unless asked to do so. “Well, not too much fun. It was meant to be a punishment, after all,” she clarified with a smirk. “In any case, it’s time for things to end. Specifically, for you.” He wouldn’t need to mull over those words. Almost immediately, her hand raised up, her head tilted back, and her mouth began to open.

As much as she had broken the personality, the mind, the soul of Richard Falcone, the human being was still there. Even though neither of them really thought of him as much of a human. His survival instincts kicked in and he started to panic. He started to act. While the hand was still level enough, he raced to one side and, without thinking, leaped. In the past he may have doubted the action, would have been scared. By that point, he knew his limits. He knew what he could endure. He could endure that fall. And if he was wrong? Better that than the alternative she offered. Unfortunately for him, she was faster than his survival instincts.

“Richard Falcone!” she chided, pinching his waist between thumb and finger. “You are being surprisingly ill-behaved! I should- Oh?” Catwoman paused her thought when she looked down at where he was jumping toward. A bottle of Tums. “Were you trying to remind me to take my Tums! Thank you, little Dicky,” she purred. That of course was not his intention. He wanted freedom or (better) death. She even turned him to ensure he watched, and listened, as she chewed up the two antacids.

“That should keep my stomach nice and gentle for you. For awhile at least,” she ominously put. “Wouldn’t want you digesting too soon, would we?” He understandably did not share in her laughter. As his mind started to repair itself, as Dick started to become Richard again, Selina opened her mouth wide for him. She wanted to open it as wide as possible, so he couldn’t kick her lips going in, and smear her lipstick.

Just like the grapes before him, Richard was placed gently upon her tongue. Like a pearl inside of an oyster. A ring upon a pillow. A prisoner onto an electric chair. He was pressed down against it, sinking slightly against the pliant muscle. Just as he turned around to escape, her mouth closed. He wanted to rush to her teeth and bang against them as if they were doors. As if he’d be let out if he made enough of a fuss. That theory wouldn’t even be tested, however. As soon as her mouth closed, her tongue got to work. It wasn’t going to let him have a moment to think.

Richard had been in Selina’s mouth many times before. He had even grown to kind of like it. The warmth, the complete coating in his mistress’s spit. To be enveloped by her like a blanket. The massaging motions of her tongue, even when rolled against the roof of her mouth. Knowing what lied in wait for him, though? Recontextualized everything. The wrinkles in her mouth felt rougher. Her tongue was less caressing and more batting. Even the spit felt heavier. Furthermore, the slight remains of the berry-flavored Tums filled his mouth with a sickening sweetness.

Suddenly, everything stopped. A few seconds later, while he was catching his breath, her mouth opened. He looked out and saw himself in her mirror. Unrecognizable. That’s what he thought of himself. If that was even himself. Over the past few weeks, he’d gone from Mr. Falcone, to Dick, to…he wasn’t sure where he was now. The body he could recognize. The face. The eyes. But not the man behind those eyes. She had broken him, he thought. But even rubble could be crushed further.

All those times she ate grapes in front of him. All those times she made sure to swallow the grapes with her mouth open. It wasn’t just to torture and terrify him. It was practice. She was going to swallow him with her mouth open, standing in front of the mirror, so he could watch. So he could see the same look on his face that Selina had when his men followed through his cruel orders. He did not disappoint her.

Her pink, agile, muscle bucked underneath him, disturbing him from his brief rest. She kept it rolling, moving him back, but never obscuring the sight of him falling into her throat. He heard the sound of her stomach rising up from the blackness before he heard her throat start to gluck as she worked him down. It wasn’t easy swallowing with your mouth open, but for Selina it was worth it.

Gulp!

Richard was worked down her throat like he was being squeezed through it. Like the last bit of toothpaste from an uncurled tube. Like milk from a cow’s teat. It didn’t even feel like dropping, to him. It just felt like he was being pushed. Like he was being shoved, though a very tight space. Selina was surprised how difficult it was to swallow him. But practice makes perfect, and she didn’t want to risk either choking or having to cough him up and try again.

Splash!

He fell into her stomach and its small amount of acids. There wasn’t much in there save for him. From up above, he heard her let out a burp. Now there wasn’t much in her stomach save for him and his screams. Oh, and the chewed-up Tums.

It was difficult to stand, so he crawled. He banged on every surface he could touch, but all his thrashing managed to do was make her occasionally giggle. Out of ideas, Richard sat back on the stomach floor, defeated.

//////////

Much time passed before anything changed. Without warning, Richard was drenched in liquid. He freaked out, thinking it was the stomach acids finally come to claim him. Though while the liquid did sting his eyes, it wasn’t acid. It was…wine? He thought. Indeed, it was. Red, specifically. Selina was on her date and enjoying the finest vintage her date could afford (which was the finest vintage they had). The smell of wine, especially red, is intense. It’s hard to ignore. At least it was better than the natural smell of a human stomach. As another sip came in. He couldn’t just sit at the bottom anymore, he had to stand. He wanted it all to be over, and he knew how it must end, but those damn survival instincts kicked in and wouldn’t let it end prematurely. They wouldn’t let him drown.

Then came the food.

Selina kept it light, only a salad. After all, it’s best to keep your meal light if you plan on your date going well. Soup is also a fine option, but she felt that might end things prematurely for poor ol’ Dick. Not that the salad was much better. It fell onto Richard with a splat. He was constantly wiping the mushy food off his body. All the while, he could hear her laughing between polite conversations. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, not over the sound of the restaurant’s music, the beating of her heart, the sloshing of the mix he waded through, and the gurgling of her impatient stomach. But the tone seemed happy. Bitch, he thought. He thought other things too, but they’re too crude to share here.

He tried pounding on the walls of her stomach again. The list of things he could do in her stomach was short. So why not run through them again? In part he wanted to just hit her, feeble as it was. He was also hoping that somehow, he’d get someone’s attention. Someone except her. And that somehow, he’d be rescued. All he accomplished was making her burp. Clearly annoyed by even that minor accomplishment, Selina apologized to her date and then pressed her hand against her stomach. Richard was knocked onto his ass, submerged in the mix of Tums, wine, salad, Richard, and an increasing amount of stomach acid.

When he came back up for air, he again did his best to clear himself of the food waste. That’s when he felt it. His skin. His baby soft skin. He would have liked to have thought that he’d discovered a fountain of youth, so to speak. That some weird combination in her stomach was rejuvenating him. Over the weeks, he knew better than to have lofty hopes like that. His hair was falling out. His skin was softer, but also moved more easily. He was feeling weaker and weaker. The Tums had worked well, but not well enough. Not for him.

//////////

Just as Selina planned, the date went well, and it continued to a second location. Richard was finding it increasingly difficult to move, but he could still listen. He heard two car doors shut. He heard footsteps along a gravel driveway. Some very large doors opened and closed. Then, more laughing, polite conversation, and a few more sips of wine. Nothing for him to be alarmed over. Then he heard it. A familiar sound. One he’d heard many times over the past few weeks, both muffled and clear as day.

Selina was moaning.

Even though Richard had mostly discarded that slave-to-Selina mentality, he still felt betrayed. That another man could make her moan like that? It wasn’t fair, he thought. While he stewed in his anger, and his demise, his prison started moving. Moving in earnest.  He was being slammed against the walls, back and forth, while the slurry came with him. Even amidst all that, he could hear her. Not just hear that she was speaking. He could hear the words.

“Fuck me! Fuck me, Bruce!” she wailed.

Any doubt he had about what she was up to was gone now. For a measure of time he didn’t have the head space to keep track of, the music to his demise was nothing but phrases like that. The only pauses in her lewd verses were her moans and feminine grunts and groans.

“Yes! That’s it! Spank me, spank my hot ass and make it yours! God, you know just what to do, Bruce!”

The sound of her ass, that ass he used to fantasize about, explore, and be crushed by, being assaulted by this brute ‘Bruce,’ did nothing to ease Richard’s temper.

“Mmm,” he heard her moan distinctively when her stomach was taking a break from the stormy rocking. “You like that? You like putting your fat cock between my big tits? Fuck ‘em, Bruce! Yes! Mmmm, yes!”

However, even in that moment things weren’t totally calm where he was. His world was in constant upset. Between all the position changes, the thrusting, the general animalistic passion of it all, Richard never had a moment to just be. God? How long are they going to fuck for? Richard thought in the rare moments he could. It’s gotta have been at least 20 minutes by now. Richard never lasted that long himself, but he figured 20 is about all even the world’s greatest lover could do. By the way, it had been more than 20 minutes. Way, way, more.

“Ooooh YES! You’re DICK is so big! It fills me up like no man ever has, Bruce. You’re not some pathetic two-inch loser. You’re a MAN!”

Up until that point, Richard had two primary thoughts. One, he was going to die. Slowly and painfully. And two, that everything she was saying sounded so forced. So utterly pornographic. It would have been laughable (though also arousing) if he wasn’t fearing for his life. However, with that statement, with those words, he realized what she was doing. She was taunting him. She was making sure he was paying attention, as if he could do anything but. Selina was reminding him of what he’d never have again. What he never really had to begin with. He’d made her moan in the past, sure. No, he thought. He’d never made her moan, he realized. She’d made herself moan, using him. Now he was just food. Food to be digested. Food to give her the energy to fuck all night.

“Not yet, baby, I want to give you a treat. I want a treat,” Richard heard her say. Then what followed was a sound he couldn’t place. It sounded like she was choking. Rhythmically. Then the final piece of the puzzle fell into place and solved the mystery. All it took was a single sound.

Gulp!

He knew then what was coming, he made enough of his whores do it to know. But where could he go to avoid it? Didn’t stop him from trying. And then it came down. A fresh, piping hot, load of cum. Plentiful enough to fill up the rest of her stomach. Thick and heavy enough to keep Richard submerged. Hot enough to keep Selina feeling warm and full. Selina would have been happy to know that Richard went out screaming over the indignity of it all.

Meanwhile, Selina ran her index finger along the corners of her lips, checking to see if there was any errant batter left for her to consume. She hadn’t spilled a drop. To drive the point home for herself, and her former plaything, she rubbed her flat belly and smiled.

“Delicious.”

//////////

When Catwoman entered Ivy’s greenhouse for the first time since she shrank Richard, it was on shaky legs. Not enough to keep her from walking a straight line, but enough to notice she’d lost some of her cat-like grace. A fact that Poison Ivy was quick to pick up on.

“Work related injury, I presume?” Poison Ivy said as she looked her roommate up and down.

 “Pleasure related, actually,” Catwoman said between her uneasy steps. “And one that I wear proudly,” she added boastfully.

“Oh? Do tell,” Ivy asked, the pleasure already mounting in her voice.

“If you insist.” Catwoman found her way to Ivy’s lab table and decided to hoist herself upon it, sitting down on its edge and crossing her legs. “So, last night, I was on a date with this gorgeous, rich, dynamo of a man.”

“Stop. Never mind. I don’t care,” Ivy interrupted. She felt her interest mounting with every syllable until it all was washed away with the last one. She fell back onto her chair made of still-living leaves and vines.

Catwoman snorted with amusement. “Are you sure? Are you sure you don’t want to hear how he took his turgid, rigid, beefy-“

“Ack!” Ivy blurted, stopping her before it got worse. “Just…ugh. Let’s move on. Why are you here?” Before Catwoman could answer, Ivy vocalized another thought. “Honestly, I’m surprised to see you at all, if I’m being honest. After I did you that little favor, you would have come back to me the next day for more. Don’t tell me your hand-selected meal disappointed.”

“Quite the opposite,” Catwoman was all to happy to correct. “He was perfect. I just hadn’t gotten around to actually eating him until last night.”

“By Gaia, how long did you- you were hanging onto him this whole time?” Ivy said in stunned disbelief.

Catwoman nodded proudly.

“You…idiot!” Ivy blasted.

Not the reaction Catwoman was expecting.

“What if he had gotten loose? What if someone saw? This whole operation would have been ended in a heartbeat! You can’t invite that kind of attention on us!” Ivy lectured. Every worst-case scenario ran through her head as she came to terms with Catwoman’s decision.

Catwoman thought best not to tell her, now more than ever, just who fucked her so long and hard her legs turned to jelly, all while Richard was inside her. Still, she didn’t like being yelled at. The only time she’d allow that was if the words were gravely and deep and coming from a pair of lips surrounded by black leather and just the right amount of stubble.

“Well, none of that happened, okay?” she reassured to little effect. “Keep this up and I won’t share what I’ve learned. So, just calm down and stop being so ca- bitchy.” She had to course correct at the end.

“You were doing to say ‘catty,’ weren’t you?” Ivy loved to catch Selina making cat puns. Catching that one, even unfinished, helped her to calm down. Her smile grew as Catwoman’s eyes narrowed. Ivy was now in a much more agreeable place. “Okay, okay. What did you learn that’s oh so important?”

“I learned how to play with my food,” Catwoman said simply.

Ivy scoffed simply. “Please. I’ve certainly ‘marinated’ my food before consumption before.” She of course was referring to slipping her victims up inside of her before she swallowed them down.

“Yea, I know, I’ve watched you,” Catwoman admitted with a luscious purr.

Poison Ivy knew she should have been mad. The idea of being spied on was not an appealing one. But considering who was doing the spying, and what she activities she was spying on? Ivy couldn’t help but squirm in her seat a bit.

“But no, I don’t mean like that,” Catwoman continued, “not exactly. As…enchanting as your methods are, they are…boring. You’re basic, Pamela.”

Pamela grumbled. She knew she was anything but boring and basic. She was the epitome of fantasies. The object of dreams, desires, devastation, and despair. How could she be “basic” and “boring,” she wondered?

“If this conversation is going to continue, you had better stop insulting me,” Ivy warned.

“And if we’re going to do business together, you had better grow a thicker skin,” Cat countered.

“Business? What business?” Ivy inquired, genuinely confused, and annoyed by that fact.

“The people shrinking business, of course!” Catwoman revealed, throwing her arms out excitedly.

As if on cue, Ivy rolled her eyes. “There’s no money in shrinking people, Selina. Unless you plan on grabbing their wallets when you do.”

“Oh, ye of little imagination,” Selina characteristically teased. “Did you forget where you are?”

“…Gotham?”

“No. Well yes. But more importantly: America!” Selina announced triumphantly for the second time in one night. “In America, if you can provide a service, one that people want, you can charge them money for it. Lots of it! And Ivy, what you do is definitely something people will want.” If she were a cartoon, Cat would have dollar signs in her eyes.

“What people? Why?” Ivy asked, still unsure of Cat’s line of thinking.

“Why? For the same reasons you and I do. For fun. For revenge. For, well, getting off. As for who? Everyone! Well, everyone in the villainous underworld, at least,” Cat clarified. “There are plenty of sultry villainesses who would delight in getting frisky and snacky with our tinies.” She knew there would be men who could say the same, but the less men she mentioned around Ivy, the better her plan would go over.

“My tinies,” Ivy made a point of correcting. “I still haven’t decided if I want to team up with you yet.” Ivy looked her up and down, this time not with arousing curiosity but with distrusting scrutinizing. “Your allegiances are…indiscernible, at best.”

“Fair, fair,” Cat admitted. “But honestly, is that risk so great that you would pass up this one in a lifetime opportunity?” Cat stood as she made her argument. She was well aware of Ivy’s attraction to her body. She figured if Ivy had a better look at it while she made her case, she’d improve her odds.

Ivy had to admit, she was right. Both about the opportunity being too good to pass up, and about her body helping her case. The way her plunging neckline, due to her suit not being fully zipped up, thrilled her to no end. She’d often suggested to Harley she get a new costume with such a neckline. Sadly, Harley never saw the punchline in it, so she passed. However right Cat was, Ivy wasn’t without questions.

“Then, why do you I need you?” Ivy asked with brutal honesty. “You’ve given me the idea; I have the resources. Where do you come in?”

Catwoman made a show of looking emotionally wounded, clutching her hand to her large chest (a strategic decision) and gasping. “Why? Well for one, I haven’t given you the whole plan. Plus, I have the connections we need.”

“I know just as many villains as you do,” Ivy countered.

“Maybe so, but they don’t like you as much as they do me,” Catwoman parried. “They’re too afraid to get in bed with you. What with your temper and murderous inclinations? Plus, some of the people we need to make this work are of the male persuasion.”

Ivy couldn’t argue with the points about her anger and homicidal nature. Loathed though she was to admit it, she also couldn’t argue that there would likely be men who had the resources they needed. Men, despite her best efforts, still controlled most of the world. Even the criminal side. Sure, she could use her pheromones and kiss to “persuade” them to do her bidding. However, that often led to more trouble than it was worth. Her preference for that method in the past is also part of the reason why criminals didn’t like dealing with her.

She had to admit, the plan was appealing. More than that, it was arousing. While it is never wise to make a business decision based on sex, it was very arousing. “Alright, I’m in!” Ivy said with excitement, but her face turned sour with a realization. The same realization she came to when crafting any of her plans. “If we’re going to expand our operation, first we need to take out the Bat.” She considered just how, and the first thought was the most obvious one. “Mmm, maybe I’ll shrink him down and keep him as a pet.”

“No!” Catwoman shouted out. Ivy looked not only surprised, but suspicious by the objection. “No,” she repeated, calmer. “That would be a terrible idea.”

“How? Batman catches wind of this and he’ll shut it down. And involving more people, shrunken or otherwise, is going to alert him fast.” Ivy argued. “I’m not going to prison over your lofty ambitions and lack of foresight.”

“Look, if you shrink Batman, I guarantee he’ll escape,” Cat said, explaining her mysterious outburst. “Doesn’t matter if he’s six foot five or one inch, he’ll find a way,” she reasoned. Ivy couldn’t argue against that logic. She’d ensnared him more times than she could count, and he’d found a way to escape more times than she’d care to admit. So, the mere act of trying to remove Batman from the picture just ensured he’d be in it.

“Let me handle things from Batman,” Catwoman offered. “I’ve done a lot he’s never busted me on, so I can mask our scent well.”

Poison Ivy was still unsure. Unsure if she could just trust Catwoman’s word that she’d handle things, without a lick of word on how. However, her damn libido was guiding her thinking again, and she accepted. “Fine.” Before she went to shake hands, she wanted everything on the table first. “Any other demands?”

“Yes. We’re going to start shrinking women, too,” Cat answered. Ivy was clearly not thrilled by the idea. “I know you get off on ‘punishing men for being men,’ but our clientele is going to want diversity, and not just of size.” Again, Ivy didn’t have much love for women, either. It was humanity in general she despised. But all the humans she had met that were worth a damn were women. Add in the biases she gained with her experiences with men when she was just Pamela, and she determined she had every reason to hate men more than women. Still, she figured she might have an better time using shrunken females on her body and just eating the men.

“Fine, I’m in,” she relented. Catwoman beamed and shot out her hand to shake. Ivy only offered a demand in return. “I have a demand of my own, however.” While Cat studied her every move, Ivy reached into a drawer and fished around for something. Her fist hovered over the table and opened, and out dropped a shrunken man, no more than an inch tall.

“Eat him.”

Ivy’s demand was simple enough. Instead of obeying, Cat cocked a brow and asked, “Why?”

“Because I never saw you eat the last one. For all I know he’s sitting comfortably in a police station while you lure me into a trap. What’s more, if we’re going to get into the business of shrinking people to be used for pleasure, including being eaten, then I need to know it’s something you’re willing to do. So, eat him.”

Still, Selina hesitated. “But is he-“

“Innocent? I have no idea, but he probably is. He’s not a crime boss or a convict. He’s likely a family man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Catwoman was clearly uncomfortable, so Ivy pushed harder. “I’ll agree to shrink women. I’ve actually been considering it for awhile now, but I’m not going to limit my supply to just the underworld. If we’re going to cater to villains, criminals, and lowlifes, we can’t just serve them their own. A customer base that consumes itself won’t last long. So, eat him.”

Cat’s gloved hand hovered over the trembling man. It was the trembling part that made her hesitate even more.

“Look, you’re going to have to get used to this. Clearly that man you brought in was from your past, which means he was probably a criminal. If you want to play with only shrunken criminals, fine. But I need to know you can handle the idea of me going outside that limitation. I’m going to bring in people from all walks of life. Rich, poor, man, woman, evil and good. So, either get over your reservations, or no deal.”

Catwoman’s moral compass was finicky. At times, even she couldn’t guess where it’d lead her. However, killing innocents was never a direction it pointed. In the past. Maybe it was the money they could make. More likely it was that rush she remembered she got torturing Richard. It wasn’t just because he was a bad man, it was because she had power over him. Real power. And the rush of finally doing him in was nothing short of orgasmic. Bruce may have given her plenty of real ones that night, but in truth she was in a constant state of orgasmic bliss for their entire date. So, before she could think of a reason not to, she snatched the tiny up and threw him in her mouth.

He tastes heavenly, she thought. It may be more accurate to say he tasted hellishly, and she was just some demonic woman who got to enjoy what others feared. Maybe it was a flavor unique to him, or maybe it was the added thrill that he was just likely a scared, innocent, civilian. One, the other, or both, she was enjoying the hell out of him.

Those alluring eyes of hers fluttered open, and landed on Ivy, who was idly brushing her fingertips against her half-exposed chest. Smiling, mouth full, Selina approached her. And together, the two of them shared their first kiss together. Ivy was surprised, briefly, before melting into the kiss.

The little man was traded between the moaning mouths. He passed back and forth between red lips and black lips. The experience was most definitely hellish, but he couldn’t deny a mix of heaven in there. Being in the middle of a spit-swap session between these two impossibly sexy women wasn’t the worst way to go out. That would come later.

While the moans had been near deafening for tinies in the past, for him they were actually deafening. He went deaf. Selina and Ivy were so excited and aroused to finally act on their feelings that their lewd sounds were louder and more frequent than usual. Didn’t help that the kiss lasted for a while, too. Deaf and disoriented, he nearly passed out, too, before Selina broke the kiss.

True to her word, Selina had him in her mouth. He was worn out, but alive. Gulp! Down the hatch he went. She even made sure to open her mouth back up for Ivy, so she could see he was nowhere to be seen.

So aroused, Ivy wanted nothing more than to reach into her drawer, grab another tiny, and eat him before grabbing three more and dragging Selina to her bed of roses. However, a thought penetrated the cloud of sex and caused her to gasp.

“Wait! My toxins! You kissed me!” Ivy shouted with alarm.

“Oh please, don’t worry about that. I took that shot the day you offered it to me. Just when you weren’t looking,” Cat explained coolly.

She was certainly relieved, though a little confused as to her actions. “But…why?”

Catwoman shrugged.

“Who knows why cats do anything?”