Like the animal she idolizes, Catwoman’s strides were long, graceful, and above all: quiet. So, it was no surprise that when she walked in on Poison Ivy slurping a pair of little kicking legs into her mouth, the maneater was none the wiser.

“Enjoying a midnight snack, Ivy?” Catwoman asked with a cocky smirk. Fully dressed in her black leather costume, complete with “tacticool” padding, Catwoman crossed her arms under her impressive bust and leaned against the doorframe to Ivy’s greenhouse.

Ivy would have liked to have thought she’d know to turn her head and spit out the little human she just put in her mouth. Better yet, it would have made sense to just swallow the evidence. Yet Catwoman’s sudden presence so surprised her that all she could do was keep her lips curled in, tight, and her cheeks puffed out; so Catwoman wouldn’t see little hands pushing against them from the inside. Her green eyes looked her roommate up and down before settling on her face. Judging by Catwoman’s cat-who-ate-the-canary grin, Ivy figured she knew she was the plant-who-ate-the-man. So she spat him out into her hand.

“So, you know then,” Ivy asks, sounding more accusatory than apologetic.

“For a while now,” Catwoman revealed, checking out her black fingernails as if the entire revelation bored her.

“I’m sure an anti-hero, or anti-villain, or whatever, like you doesn’t approve, then?” Ivy’s fingers closed around her paused snack. She was worried Catwoman may try to take it away, use it as evidence against her. Worse yet, she would be taking away her dinner.

“Quite the opposite,” Catwoman said, surprising Ivy, “I’m more than a little intrigued, actually.”

Ivy arched a brow and pursed her lips, keeping on the defensive. “Is that right?” she asked.

“Oh my, yes,” Catwoman admits, excited to come clean. Her body pushed off the door frame. Her heels, a surprising choice given her penchant for running, leaping, and climbing, clicked on the floor as she approached. They make my ass look better, she would tell those who questioned the fashion choice, not that it needs any help, she’d add with a spank. The sultry ne’er-do-well approached the green woman. Naturally, her hips swayed hypnotically. “Leave it to you to make science cool again,” she complimented, running her gloved hand along the table with all the beakers and vials.

Ivy couldn’t hide the smile pulling on her ruby lips. “In that case, let me be a generous host and offer you something to eat,” she said, her tone signaling much of the anxiety having left her. Of course, that something to eat was the damp little man sitting in the center of her outstretched hand. He had since wiped Ivy’s saliva from his face so he could see. However, looking up at the darkly beautiful and beautifully dark woman reaching for him didn’t alleviate his fears.

“In that case, let me be gracious guest and accept,” Catwoman said, playing along. She’d never held a tiny person before, of course. Still, she was a master of deft delicacy and smoothness, so it was no problem to pinch him between finger and thumb and lift him. She just had to be careful not to skewer him with the claws on her gloves. The burglar rotated her hand in the air, examining him from all angles. She figured he must be between four and five inches. I’ve had bigger in my mouth, she thought, casting a smirk on her lips.

Her painted-black lips briefly curled in to wet themselves before her mouth opened to accept Ivy’s offering. He squirmed and screamed but made no progress in freeing himself. He got close enough to hear her guts gurgling from down her throat, echoing through her maw, when she stopped.

“Wait, who is he?” Catwoman asked.

“A delicious morsel,” Ivy said matter-of-factly.

“No, I mean, before you shrunk him,” she clarified.

“Does it matter?” she clarified.

Catwoman gave a sigh, blasting the morsel with her hot breath, which smelled of milk and fish. Clearly this was going to be a thing, so Catwoman lowered the man and held him just below her exposed cleavage. He wasn’t sure where to look; at the dangerous woman who had tried to eat him, or at the swelling breasts of the woman who was debating the option.

“Of course it matters, Pamela,” she said. “I’m not going to aid in the killing of an innocent man, as boring as innocent is.”

“He’s a man.” Ivy gave a dismissive wave. “There’s nothing innocent about him.”

Catwoman sighed even deeper than before. This time the little man wasn’t subjected to the hurricane breath. Better, he got to watch those creamy jugs strain against her suit and her zip drop a notch when she inhaled. “For God’s sake, Ivy, having a dick is not a crime,” Catwoman said in a tone that made it clear she had had this argument with ivy before.

“It should be,” Ivy scoffed, looking away for a moment. Her eyes fell back on the cat and dominatrix themed woman. The botanist raised her defensives back up, crossing her arms under her barely covered breasts. “So, what? Are you going to try and stop me, now that you know your food isn’t ‘cruelty free?’” she mocked.

“Still no,” Catwoman reassured Ivy, while terrifying the nameless man. “I’m of a live and let live attitude, even if someone else isn’t.”

Poison Ivy rolled her eyes. She found Catwoman’s hard to read moral compass frustrating. She was a scientist. She wanted, needed, to understand things to be comfortable. She believed in what she could see and trusted in what she could replicate. She sometimes wondered if that’s one of the reasons she was so attracted to Harley Quinn. Her wild, unpredictable, nature excited her. Plus, that body, she’d think.

“Still,” Catwoman continued, thinking aloud while re-examining the man, “I am curious.”

The exasperated woman didn’t have it in her to even make a “curious like a cat” joke. “Then eat it already!” she barked at the cat, demanding she make up her mind while also stripping the man of his gender by being referred to him as “it.”

“Hmmm…still no,” Catwoman answered, clearly playing up the situation by teasing Ivy and testing her already microscopic patience. “First, I wanted to ask you something.”

“If you’re wanting to know more about the creature,” she started, clearly sounding dismissive, and now stripping the man of his humanity, “I can’t help you. All I know is that he was a security guard, his name is something boring like Dave, or something, and he’s supposed to be in my belly right now!” Her bored tone gradually became irritated as she spoke.

“You seem on edge, Ivy,” Catwoman said with mock concern. “You know what you need?”

Ivy was cradling her face in her palms. She knew exactly what she was going to say next.

“Some sunlight,” Catwoman joked, proving Ivy’s prediction correct.

“Selina, I swear, if you don’t get to the point…” she started, speaking into her hands before dropping them and snapping back to attention, looking Catwoman dead in her eyes and continuing with, “…I’m going to shrink you down!”

“So, you can shrink women, too? Good to know, that answers another question I had. However, what I really want to know is if you can shrink anyone?” Catwoman asked.

With her point of visiting finally laid out, Ivy calmed down, the green veins on her neck diminishing until they were gone. “Theoretically. I haven’t met anyone who has been able to resist the toxin, so far.” Her eyes were very analytical, trying to figure out Catwoman’s plan.

“Then, if I were to bring you someone, you could shrink them?” she asked, further revealing her intentions.

“…Theoretically,” Ivy answered. “Although, if you’re looking for a fresh one, I have more,” she offered, once again becoming a generous host.

“I’m sure you do, but no,” she declined. “I’m hungry for someone specific.” Once again, she offered up only the bare essential information, no more than she had to until she had to. It kept Ivy guessing, but at least she was more at ease. “However, before I put in the work…” Catwoman trailed off, letting her actions do the talking as she lifted the little man back to her face.

He had grown somewhat complacent during the conversation; somewhat hopeful he’d be let go. At the very least, taken away from Poison Ivy. As soon as he saw her pink tongue run across her sharp incisors, his panic was reborn anew. He was tossed through the air and landed directly onto her tongue. Immediately the teeth shut behind him, and the ride began.

She was new to having something like him in her mouth. So, her tongue was not gentle. She didn’t know how much punishment he could take. Surprisingly a lot, but it didn’t hurt any less. His body was dragged along the roof, bumping against the ridges and wrinkles while her tongue slid against him. All the built-up saliva in her mouth was sucked down into her gullet, and he was certain he’d be next. He’d seen Ivy consume enough to know that. However, expectations were circumvented again, and once more he was spat out into a female hand. This time, Catwoman’s.

“Not bad,” she admitted, playing down how delicious he actually was, “not bad at all.” She gave him one last sultry look before tossing him underhanded toward Poison Ivy. Instinctively, Ivy caught the morsel, and then immediately grimaced at feeling the foreign spit on her palm. “I’ll be back,” Catwoman left with. Leaving things ambiguous and unclear.

Ivy made sure to watch her leave, both to be aware of any last-minute foul play, but also to enjoy the sight of that perfect peach in tight leather. She was still suspicious of her intentions but felt a bit relieved she no longer had to worry about her only roommate, other than Harley (who was totally on board now), finding out about her and ruining everything. She couldn’t help but smile at the turn of events. There was a softness in her features as she smiled, the little man in her palm thought. Perhaps a kind of softness that begat mercy. It didn’t.

While still watching Catwoman sway her hips out the door, Ivy launched her hand toward her mouth and let the morsel be flung into the wet cave. As she tasted him, her tongue having more expertise at handling him than Catwoman’s, she noticed that he tasted different. Tasted better. Catwoman’s saliva seemed to have added to his natural flavors. She made a note of inviting Catwoman to some one-on-one-on-one time with her and Harley.

As she thought about all the fun they could have with three gorgeous, voluptuous, and devilish women, she swallowed. The moan she let out was not just for how good the man tasted, and felt going down, but for the future. She rubbed her gurgling belly with one hand and ran her fingertips across her chest with the other.

///////////

True to her word, Catwoman would return to Poison Ivy. Unlike last time, however, she was not as quiet as a cat on the prowl. In fact, she was as noisy as a cat knocking something off the counter. After turning the knob just enough to unlatch the door from the frame, she slammed her butt against the door to swing the door open. It hit the wall with a bang. The stop-and-go sound of Catwoman dragging something heavy, taking brief breaks to catch her breath, followed behind her rude entrance.

“I’m back!” Catwoman announced with a mix of cheerfulness and exhaustion. Finally, able to take a rest, she took a seat: right on the raised stomach of the man she had just dragged in. As much as most men have fantasized of having Catwoman sit on them, he didn’t look pleased.

This time, Ivy was not caught playing with her food, in one way or another. This time, Ivy was in the middle of mixing dangerous chemicals. Mixtures which required precision and exact measurements. Catwoman’s abrupt entrance caused Ivy to at the very least ruin her batch, but it could have been worse – it could have exploded. Once she was confident no explosion would follow, she turned her attention to the loud interruption.

“You’re also loud,” Ivy said through clenched teeth. Her annoyance well established, she turned her eyes South to look at Catwoman’s impromptu seat. Her lips pulled into a smirk as she saw a prime opportunity present itself. “Well, well, well, look who the cat dr-“

“Finish that sentence and I will claw your eyes out, Ivy, don’t test me,” Catwoman said between heavy breaths. “It wasn’t easy getting this guy from his penthouse to here, and all while being stealthy and looking good.”

The bemused botanist couldn’t argue against her looking good, but “stealthy” was easily refuted. Still, she looked exhausted, so a fun back and forth was likely out of the question. “Fine. So, who is this sperm bank and what is he doing in my greenhouse and under your ass?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot our conversation a few days ago,” Catwoman worried. At least she was done panting. Although Ivy did enjoy watching her chest rise and fall rapidly, testing the patience of her suit.

“This is the specimen you want to shrink?” she said with distaste in her voice. Ivy wasn’t choosey in which men she shrank, but she was particular about who she ate. She couldn’t imagine someone so bald, fat, and old tasting any good. “I assumed you were going to bring me a male model, or something,” Ivy stated her theory. Catwoman was known to prefer the finer things in life, so she just assumed that would extend to which men she wanted to consume.

“It’s not about looks, for me,” Catwoman answered, seeing the disgust on Ivy’s face, “It’s about the individual. Him and I have history.” When she saw Ivy once again roll her eyes at her, she spoke up with, “You keep rolling your eyes like that, they’ll get stuck.”

Ivy grumbled at the tease. She examined the world’s angriest seat cushion again and shrugged, surrendering to her request. “Fine. Whatever. I’ve kissed worse.” Having agreed to Catwoman’s request, she reached into her lab coat pocket and pulled out a gold lipstick case.

“You have to kiss them to shrink them? Why am I not surprised?” Catwoman playfully scoffed.

“You have your gimmicks,” Ivy said between applications, “and I have mine.” Lips curled inward to make the application even. Her finger going against the corners of her lips to remove any errant streaks. The color was black. Catwoman’s favorite. Catwoman couldn’t help but appreciate the choice when she saw the stick push up from the case. It looked even better once Ivy dragged it across her pouty tiers.

“Mmm, what shade is that and can I borrow it?” She asked, hoping to add it to her surprisingly vast collection of different shades of black lipstick. Obsidian, onyx, midnight, rolling blackout, sleeping panther, and Void by Armani, just to name a few.

“Not unless you want to end up like he’s about to,” Ivy warned before recapping the stick and disappearing it between her breasts. “Unless you’ve had your shots.” She was referring to the all-purpose antidote she had offered to Catwoman when she first moved in. It was meant to protect her against all the toxins of Ivy’s plants and Ivy herself. Catwoman declined, citing a preference for the danger.

“Keep it up with that darker look, Ivy, and I just might,” Catwoman flirted. She had often suggested to Ivy that her cold personality and tendency to gloominess would make her the perfect goth chick. But Ivy preferred green.

The green goddess was certainly appreciative of that. Still, it wasn’t time for games, it was time for business. Ivy waved her hand at Catwoman to shoo her off the bound and gagged man. Once she was up, Ivy replaced her, straddling the man’s gut. She was not at all gentle when she decided to just drop her ass on him, rather than lower herself gently. Seeing the gag around his mouth, muffling his no doubt angry accusations and threats, Ivy gestured for Catwoman to remove it. Deftly, with her claws, she sliced it down the middle, causing it to fall away.

“You bitch!” was the first thing he had to say. Not off to a diplomatic start. “I’m going to get you for this,” he said to Catwoman, but addressing Ivy, too, if she continued to toy with him. “You think you can just barge into my home and kidnap me? There’s going to be an army coming after you!”

“Please shut him up,” Catwoman pleaded, already exhausted by his mouth.

“You stupid fucking cu-“ but he had no chance to finish that obscenity. Ivy’s mouth saw to that. Her thick lips easily made a seal against his mouth. Tiers firmly pressed against him, making sure to apply as much toxin as possible, as quickly as possible. After a handful of seconds that he had to admit he enjoyed, Ivy’s lips pulled off with a smack.

The scientist spat to her right, at the floor. “Blech, a smoker. Disgusting,” she criticized.

“And a man,” Catwoman added sarcastically, as Ivy stood up, clearly playing off of Ivy’s aggressive level of radical feminism. More accurately, Ivy hated all of mankind, so she really didn’t care about women’s rights as much as plants’. But between the two sexes, she hated men much more.

Despite her earlier, sarcastic, warning, Ivy rolled her eyes. As she was want to do. Hands pressed against her hips as she watched the figuratively little man become a literally little man. All the while he continued to shout about all the things he was going to do to them when he got free, sprinkling in swears and slurs as he did. It was of no small amusement to either women that his voice got squeaker as he shrank.

When it was over, Ivy bent down at the waist, favoring Catwoman a glimpse of her ass, barer than it was covered by her leafy thong, and picked up her favor to her. Then, Ivy dropped him into Catwoman’s greedy hand.

Catwoman looked over the immensely confused man and couldn’t help but notice a difference between him and the one she tasted a few days prior. “He’s smaller than the other one,” she observed.

“The size varies,” Ivy revealed. “It has to do with the different DNA of each person. Some shrink to even smaller than him,” she added, referring to the now two-inch-tall man.

“I find that hard to believe,” Catwoman said in response while poking at the shrunken man’s penis, grinning. “Still, I was kinda hoping he’d be bigger,” she lamented.

“Well, too bad,” she coldly answered. “Besides, for a rookie like you, the smaller the better. Makes them easier to deal with and swallow.” The little guy did not like that last word at all.

“I’m not a rookie at anything, babe,” Catwoman said with no small amount of confidence.

There went those eyes again. Rolling. Still, this time, Ivy couldn’t help but smile at her bravado, and the not at all subtle sexual implications. She watched as Catwoman tucked him away between her tits the same way Ivy had with her lipstick. Only, her lipstick didn’t have two arms flailing above the sink-line. Her smile widened. Ivy never got tired of seeing them struggle.

“Thanks, Ivy, I’ll let you know how it goes,” Catwoman said.

“Not going to eat him here?” Ivy asked, sounding just a little disappointed.

“You wanted to watch me?” Catwoman asked.

“I was curious,” she replied with a sultry purr usually reserved for Catwoman herself.

“I bet you were,” Catwoman teased, clearly enjoying the flirtations. Sadly, for once, she had to end the flirtations short. “But no, I’ve got other plans for him. For now.”

“Very well.” It was no great wound to Ivy. “Oh, I recommend swallowing him whole,” she remembered to suggest. “Blood does taste delicious, but it can be messier than it’s worth. Plus, they feel divine in your stomach,” she described, unable to stop herself from caressing her belly.

“Hey now, no spoilers,” Catwoman stopped her with. The two shared a smile. As Catwoman would return to her room, her breasts bounced slightly in the tight confines of her suit. At their size, there was no stopping some jiggling. Regardless of the slightness of their bounce, to the victim between them the motion was immensely disorienting and uncomfortable.

Once again, Ivy couldn’t help but watch her roommate leave. In doing so, she suddenly felt a rush overcome her, forcing her to brace herself on the table. If she was lucky, Catwoman didn’t hear her moan, but she wouldn’t mind being a little unlucky. Once she recovered from her brief, but strong, orgasm, she reached into her left breast cup.

Her nipple still sensitive, removing the tiny from it sent another shiver through her. “Impressive,” she said to the exhausted and panting three-inch man. “You made me cum just from molesting one of my nipples.” No doubt seeing Catwoman aided in that accomplishment, but Ivy was a generous goddess. Just not a merciful one. “That means you graduate to level three.” Level one being massaging the soles of her feet, and level two of course was massaging her nipple. Level three was…

Ivy pulled aside the crotch of her corset, not wanting the leaves to fall away just yet. The man had no strength left to find against being shoved feet first into the giantess’s soaked and sticky pussy. “Be sure to move around a lot,” she instructed. “Otherwise, you get detention,” she added, punctuating the threat with a lick of her lips and a well-timed growl from her stomach. With one last push on his head, he went inside, and her corset was moved back into place.

She was sure Catwoman would have as much fun as she did with her food. After all, cats are known to play with their food.

Catwoman strolled through the large space the Gotham City Sirens called their home. They had done what they could to clean it up and make it more livable. However, it was always clear the space was never meant to be lived in, at all. The women put most of their decorating efforts into their own personal bedrooms. Each were unique and had their own décor preferences. For Catwoman, it was elegance and excess.

Her room was spacious, luxurious, and inviting (though she never had guests, lest they run the risk of running into her less hospitable roommates). It was a far cry from the minimally acceptable level of home-ness of the rooms between bedrooms. Not that her guest would know the difference. For the entire trip, he was too busy trying, and failing, to pry himself out from between her snug, sweaty, breasts.

Once inside, Catwoman demonstrated how much more capable she was than him at his size by simply plucking him free of her cleavage. He had only a second to take in a large gasp of air before he was sent hurtling through the air. Though he landed on the heavenly-soft California king bed, it was no less disorienting and terrifying a trip.

“You wait there, Dick,” she called over to the naked man as he did his best to stand up on the uneven surface. “I need to take a shower. My suit tends to make me sweat,” she admitted, “as I’m sure you’re aware.” Catwoman had no doubt her guest had been evenly coated in her sweat during his brief tenure between her girls. She was right.

“That’s Mr. Falcone to you, you bitch!” he cried out, finally finding some steady footing. “And it’s Richard, not Di-“ but in that moment he saw she had already turned around and headed for the bathroom. She ignored him. Another indignity hoisted upon a man who prided himself on his pride.

Richard looked around the room. As he took in the sights of all the impossibly large furniture, along with the revelation he was standing on an impossibly large bed, it started to dawn on him. He had been shrunken. Oh, sure, he was in no small part already aware of this fact. But when you get as angry as Richard Falcone did, you tend to get tunnel vision. Now that anger was being shrunken down to make room for confusion. Soon enough, that too would have to make room for fear.

Priority one was escape. That much was clear to him. It was just a matter of how. He looked around at his options, limited as they were. Right now, all he could choose was which side of the bed he should try to jump off. He’d have to worry about what the impact of a fall might do to him later. Because despite the minimal progress he had made hiking across the uneven surface, which constantly gave way under even his minimal weight, he’d hit another roadblock. Leaping onto the bed from the floor was a sleek, black, cat. And not at all the one who brought him to the bedroom.

The beast considered the sight with curious green eyes. It wasn’t big enough to be a predator, that was for certain. More importantly, it was small enough to be prey. Gracefully and cautiously, the pet house cat approached. As it got closer, every paw-fall it made caused the bed covering to shift and undo any progress Falcone made towards escape.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Nice kitty. Good kitty. Just stay back, okay?” Falcone was trying to reason with the cat. A fruitless tactic, but the only one he had at his disposal. The cat knocked him over when its nose hit him, taking in his scent. The sound of the cat breathing was louder than he expected. Fears start to become realized when the cat found him acceptable and opened its fanged mouth. Richard held up his arms and looked away, not ready to face his own death. “Bastet!” he heard being yelled. When he looked up, the cat was being cradled in Catwoman’s arms.

“No, no, girl,” she gently scolded. “That’s not for you. That’s mommy’s treat.” Her eyes cut back to Richard, betraying any sort of innocence that may have been inferred from her statement. The cat was led away with a handful of treats Catwoman grabbed from a sealed container.

Richard watched as she moved, unable to take his eyes off her. Certainly, the fact she was of an imposing and dangerous size compared to him drew his attention. More so, however, he stared because of how she looked. Fresh from the shower, her hair had been dried but was still a little damp. It hung messily on her head, framing her high and inviting cheekbones. Her lips were plump and naturally pouty while she combed her hair out. The shape of her eyes was, unsurprisingly, catlike. She could have easily been a model, he thought. Her body, on the other hand, made him wish she had been a porn star.

Needless to say, his eyes went straight to her breasts. That towel must have been held together with a prayer because it didn’t look strong enough to contain her assets. Richard watched every drop of water he could slip down her slender neck, careen along her collarbone, and finally slide down between her tits. He had totally forgotten what it was like between those massive mammaries. All he could think of now was how with every inhale she took, they swelled out, and tested that haphazard knot she made with the towel. Her skin, fresh from the shower, still a little wet, made her glisten. He’d swear she was an angel if he wasn’t already aware of how troublesome and dangerous she was.

He would have loved to see the sleek expanse of her flat stomach (all in good time, Richard). Of course, that was obscured by the towel. The drying fabric was also just long enough to hide her most delicate and private of areas. As he watched the droplets of water slide down her inner thighs, he imagined the journey they must have taken. The blood he needed for his brain to think up a plan was going elsewhere. He nearly lost it when she turned around to put away her brush. Opening the drawer, and bending over ever so slightly, she showed off the bottom curves of her athletically sculpted, and genetically aided, butt. So, lost in the fantasy her body was creating for him, he didn’t even notice when she turned around.

“Ha!” she blurted out, snapping him back to his grim reality. “Would you look at that. Dick’s dick is enjoying the show.” He instinctively covered up his rigid shame. “Yea, don’t worry, it’s already seared into my brain forever,” she said with distaste. Still, she couldn’t blame him. She knew she looked good, and the choice in small towel was no accident. “Now, what should we do first?” she wondered aloud.

“You rotten harpy, change me back right now! Do you know who I am? I’m Richard Falcone! You’re gonna have the entire Falcone family coming down on you! There’s more than one way to skin a cat, let me tell ya. First you can…” And he went on like that, all while she watched, brow furrowed in confusion.

“You know I can’t hear you right? You’re too tiny and far away,” she informed. “Hold on.” Bending over, she reached her hand down, laying her open palm on the bed. She was offering him a ride up, but all he could focus on was her cleavage and the slight sway to her breasts when she moved. “Oh, for God’s sake,” she groaned when she realized why he hesitated. Richard found himself being shoved onto her hand.

Richard felt like he was being squashed down onto the palm by the g-force alone. Finally, the ride stopped on the top floor. Catwoman stared him down with inquisitive eyes. He instinctively clasped his hands over his ears and winced when she asked, “Now, what was it you were saying?” Seeing her mistake, she repeated herself, this time in a whisper. “Oh, sorry. What were you saying?” She couldn’t help but make her whisper sound sultry and seductive. It was likely the smokiness and natural purr she spoke with.

“What have you done to me?” A natural first question to ask for someone in his situation.

“Well obviously I shrank you. Well, Ivy shank you,” she corrected herself. “Semantics. The point is, you’ve been shrinked. Shrunk? Shrunk.”

“Why?” was the natural second question.

“Why? Well, because what woman wouldn’t want a shrunken man? Think of all the fun we can get up to!” While she certainly sound playful, even a little flirtatious, Richard was only half certain it’d be fun for him. “If you mean why you? Well, to answer that, let me ask you something: do you remember me?”

He just stared blankly as those black lips moved. The brief moments he could see inside her mouth, he remembered when he heard Poison Ivy say ‘swallow.’” It was a grim possibility he had trouble swallowing.

“Of course you do,” she answered for him. “Who could forget me?” Catwoman boasted, fluttering her eyes. “But, do you remember what you did to me?” Much of the playfulness in her voice had vanished.

Again, he was blank. He’d done a lot of things to a lot of people. Much of it bad. He could only guess at what he may have done to her to deserve his fate. Clearly, he wasn’t going to recall any time soon, so she once again answered her own question.

“During one of my heists, you caught me. Kudos, by the way,” she said, offering him a rare compliment from Catwoman herself. “You sent your guards, or should I say goons, after me. Understandable and expected,” she went on, not yet revealing why she’d have a grudge. “However, when they caught me, you had them get rather rough with me.” With each word spoken, her eyes narrowed further, and her voice deepened. Her smile had turned into a sneer. “That, Dick,” emphasis laid heavily on the nickname he despised, “was crossing a line. There’s playing rough, which I like, and then there’s what your men did.”

“Th-then go shrink them!” Richard bargained, readily throwing his men under the bus. Or better yet, in this case, her foot.

“Oh, I will!” she exclaimed, all too happy to dash that brief hope he had. “But first, I’m going to start with the man who gave the order: you.” As if that wasn’t obvious before.

Catwoman would then learn the extent of Richard Falcone’s arrogance and ill-gotten confidence. “Well do your worst, pussy cat!” he boldly shouted. “I’m not scared of some two-bit cat burglar!” Understandably, she chuckled dismissively at him.

“You know, I think you genuinely believe that. That you’re tough enough to take it. That I should be afraid of you. But you know what I think?” she asked, not expecting him to answer. “I think you still haven’t come to terms with your situation. Your imagination hasn’t caught up yet. You can’t yet fathom what I could do to you. What I will do to you.” As she hit that L sound with ‘will,’ he got the best look into her mouth yet. “So, I’ll speed things along and get you up to speed,” she explained in a very threatening, but still cheerful, tone. “I plan to get very, very, rough.”

//////////

Despite how clear she was with her intentions, it was clear to Richard he hadn’t understood the scope. She didn’t get “rough” in the sense he’d endure some brutal and torturous death. She got rough in the sense that his torture was seemingly never ending. For a span of time that Richard quickly lost track of, both Catwoman and Richard engaged in experiments. Experiments on just what kind of punishment Richard could take, and just how creative Catwoman could be. They were both learning a lot.

Poison Ivy was practiced and skilled in the art of dealing with tinies; Catwoman had certainly spied on her enough to know that. However, Ivy never let her tinies live beyond the night they were shrunk. Catwoman was looking for more long-term enjoyment. It was as if she was developing the tantric version of “size play,” as she called it. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right. She was going to be the best at it. Sure, the tinies seemed to come in various sizes, but Richard would make a suitable baseline. In any case, she was enjoying herself immensely. More importantly, Richard wasn’t.

To begin, Catwoman tested his abilities and limits. He was given menial tasks, but over time they grew in difficulty until she was satisfied he’d done all he could. He was asked to run from one edge of her desk to another. Then to do the same on her bed. To motivate him, she threatened to gobble him up if he didn’t pick up the pace. She always would snatch him up in her mouth; only because that was always the plan, no matter how fast he was. Lucky for him, she’d always spit him out after sucking clean the salty flavor he produced. Afterwards, she’d vocally make a note to try him out with various dips to offset his flavor.

His strength was also tested. Picking up crumbs, to begin with, then moving up to thumb tacks, paper clips, Q-Tips, and even a grape. She was especially satisfied he was able to carry the grape. She had wished he was strong enough to undress her, pulling off socks and pulling down panties, but that proved impossible. At best, he could unclip her bra (after extensive instructions on how). However, she preferred to do that herself, so he’d see her tits fall free, and she could tease him with them.

On that note, he got used to seeing his enemy naked. Her suit had always told an enticing story about the shape of her body, but one always had to wonder if it was lying. Her body did not disappoint. She was ever bit as curvaceous, firm, and outright sexy as her suit promised. He did learn a few things from seeing her naked that her suit never mentioned.

The first things he noticed were about her breasts, because of course that’s the first place he looked. Her nipples were a dusky brown color. Like milk chocolate. They blended nicely with her tanned skin. “I like to sunbathe naked,” she’d say while caressing her skin. “I love soaking up those warm, loving, rays.” Everything she said was laced with at least four kinds of sexuality and seduction. In addition, she also had two gold rings, one through each milk chocolate nipple.

“Do you like them?” she asked when she saw him eyeing the glint of the gold against her skin. “I got them because they basically keep my nipples erect all the time. I love how my erect nipples feel against the inside of my suit. With these, I can feel that all the time.” She then became lost in the sensation as she had been playing with them as she talked of their purpose. Richard watched her flick them, pull on them, and twist them. Each action eliciting a different response from her face and body.

Further down her body, just above her darling pussy, was the little patch of pubic hair she allowed. It was shaved into a shape. Predictably, it was the shape of a cat’s head. “I know, I know,” she said with pre-existing defeat in her voice. “It’s predictable, and I’m supposed to be anything but. But, a pussy cat above my pussy cat, when my whole thing is pussy cats? I’d be a fool not to have it, right?” As if his answer mattered. And it didn’t.

He also learned that despite her overwhelmingly perfect and large breasts, they weren’t her greatest assets. Certainly, her tits’ size was substantial. “I know people say that more than a handful is a waste…” she’d begin, cupping her jugs and bouncing them slightly in her grasp. “…that it’s excessive, but those people are cowards. If you hadn’t noticed, I’m all about excess,” she added while squeezing her fingers into her pliable and soft tit flesh. It was true. From her body, to her décor, to her closet that was bigger than the bedroom itself, Catwoman lived in excess. As Richard would learn, that policy extended to his torture.

Anyway, her tits were great, that’s been established. But her ass? Her ass was otherworldly. It was plump yet perfectly sized and shaped. It was soft, but firm. Clearly, had she not been such an active parkour fan, she’d have a genetically astonishing ass on her own. With the added life of running, leaping, and climbing all night, that amazing ass was chiseled to perfection. However, that wasn’t the most important thing he learned about the backside of her body.

Just above her ass, right at the small of her back, were two things. Just above that perfect ass he struggled to look away from, was a tattoo. A solid black tattoo of the unmistakable bat symbol. He was surprised, to say the least. He wouldn’t think a criminal would have a marking of the criminal-hating Batman on them, especially in such an intimate spot. Did he mark her, he wondered? The other thing of note was a scar, cutting through that tramp stamp.

Catwoman had her fair share of scars. Despite her reputation of getting out of any situation before anyone knew she was there, she’d gotten into a few scrapes. Scrapes she was given mementos of. The one that seemed to hold the strongest memory was the one that ruined her tattoo. It was also the reason he was there, two inches tall, in her bedroom.

“See this one?” her black fingernails gently ran the length of it, sending chills through her body. “This is from when one of your goons cut open my suit so he could rip it off me,” she recalled with anger and shame. “I guess they were too stupid to figure out how to undress a lady properly.” She tried to bring some levity to the memory, but her face made it clear it didn’t last.

“You know what I originally wanted to do, Dick?” Whenever she put emphasis on his name, he knew she was mad. “My plan was to drop you onto that scar and tell you to hang on tight while my boyfriend fucked me in the ass,” she exclaimed with no amount of modesty and plenty of venom. “You’d have to sit there, trying to not fall off. All the while watching as a real man fucked me proper. Listening to the sounds of me moaning, over and over and over again, until finally…he’d come.” As she described her plan, she got closer and closer to him, speaking more through clenched teeth and her smile growing more wicked. “And I’d have him come on my back. Right. On. You.” Richard was quaking with fear with the prospect and how close she was now. “Then, I’d gobble you up!” She kept her smiling, hungry face against him for a few beats before easing off slightly. “But, as much as I love the guy, he’s too nice for his own good. He wouldn’t approve of me shrinking you, let alone busting a nut all over your trembling body.” She lamented. “Trembling like it is now,” she added with a laugh. “So, we’re going with plan B.”

“Wh-what’s plan B?” Much of the bravado and confidence in his voice had been scared out of him. Catwoman smiled at his inquiry.

“Dick, you have no respect for dramatic tension, do you?”

/////////

Richard learned a lot about her body just by seeing her strip down to nothing in front of him, many times during the “research.” However, he gained the most insight when he got to touch it. Although, it’s probably fairer to say when it touched him.

Once she had tested out what Richard could do, she moved to testing out what she could do to him. She started out as gently as she could by simply pressing down on her with her finger. Over time, she graduated to other parts of her body.

Richard was forced to try and stop her bare foot from coming down on him. He failed. Lucky for him, he found that hiding under her high, smooth, arch, provided some respite from the weight of her foot. She wouldn’t always let him have that, though. Other times she squeezed him, tighter and tighter, between her toes, until she was confident he was about to burst.

Next came her breasts. Trying to push up against them enough to keep them from squishing him was like trying to hoist up the tarp used to cover a baseball field. There was some give, but not nearly enough. Of all the parts of her body she crushed him with, though, her tits were the easiest to endure. Being sandwiched between them, though, that was trying. It certainly didn’t help when she shook her chest left and right, screaming “Kitty Titty Mountain! The wildest ride in Gotham!” Though all he heard was his head ringing from the physical trauma.

For a brief time, she squeezed him between her creamy thighs. This particular experiment didn’t last very long. He didn’t know why, but for Catwoman it was only because she couldn’t think of a good application for the information. Everything was in service to a greater ambition. So, when she was done with that, she’d just lay him on the bed and lie down on him. Being “crushed” under her stomach was the least physically taxing of her crush experiments. The bed, and how soft and flat her tummy was, didn’t impose stress on him. Listening to her belly grumble, however, did. That was Catwoman’s true intention.

Then the day came to test her ass out on him. She was as gentle and methodical as she could be. Not for his benefit, though he did benefit from not being crushed immediately. Rather, it was so A) she could make him last, and B) she could draw out his suffering. Bit by bit she applied pressure. No matter how futile he knew it was, he still tried to push back. Once the ass was down, he struggled. A lot. She was surprised he was still moving even with her full weight on him. Have I been going easy on him this whole time? She wondered. Left and right she grinded her ass. Up and down she bounced her ass. Forward and back she rolled her ass. She was in heaven, because he was in hell.

With all the initial testing out of the way, Catwoman was ready to get more creative.

However, the night between the initial tests and the future ones, Catwoman decided to celebrate. She didn’t want to miss a chance to torture Richard, though. She dropped him into her underwear drawer, where he could become easily entangled in all the lace and string if he wasn’t careful. And from the drawer, she pulled out the first toy of the night. Then, she left him inside the drawer, and the drawer open.

With the drawer open, he was privy to hear all the lewd sounds she made but couldn’t climb up high enough to see. He really wanted to see. Her moans were enticing, her words were enchanting, the sounds her body made were engrossing. He wanted more, but she denied him. Even the gift of letting him hear was a punishment. After she let out a scream, letting him know she came, she returned to the drawer. In fell the vibrating egg, though not currently vibrating. It was just the slightest bit damp from the juices that made it onto there. It rolled toward him, knocking him down. Then, she grabbed the next toy.

All night it was like that. She’d grab a toy, make herself cum, forcing Richard to listen, and then return it, soaked from use, before grabbing the next. Normally she’d clean them off before returning them, but she figured Richard might as well get used to the smell of her now. The scent, by the way, only grew in intensity as more used toys were added. It would have been all he could think about, if it weren’t for the noises. The moans from her mouth, the vibrations of the toys, the slick wet sound of one of the dildos entering her. It enticed and infuriated him. She terrified him, he knew that, but even so she still aroused the hell out of him. It was creating a mix of feelings culminating in him wanting to just obey her dark whims in the hopes of a reward of her pleasure pleasing him. He did what he could to shake off those feelings, but over time, he’d find that harder and hard to do.

//////////

With the experiments over, the next day began the “games.” Now knowing what limits Richard had, which were surprisingly few, Catwoman began to get creative with his punishment.

Like the experiments before, she started off small. Now it wasn’t a matter of reducing the risk of breaking him early. Now it was just…well it was like foreplay for her. She wanted to be tickled by the feather before she was spanked with the paddle. So, the first game was almost like an experiment. A good segue from one part of his torture to the next. First, she would use her mouth. A grim omen for his future.

Richard was forced to stand on her bottom row of teeth and hold onto the top row. Before he went in, she told him he’d have to keep her mouth open, or she’d crush him between her teeth. She had no plan to, but he didn’t need to know that. He was doing a good job, she had to admit. Even though her teeth were cutting into his palms and the soles of his feet, he was holding his own. That was until she started tickling his back with her tongue. Completely distracted, he lost his grip and fell back onto the tickling tongue. The teeth slammed shut before him.

She lashed at him with her tongue for a while. He got dangerously close to her throat many times. Much to his relief, he was spat out. “You’re lucky I’m such a merciful goddess,” she called down to him. Catwoman wanted to let him think that she had just done him a favor. Really screw with his mind.

Next came her ass. He wasn’t inserted into it, not yet, but rather just clenched tight between the squeezing cheeks. Left, right, left right. Over and over she spanked either cheek. The sound and reverberations through her cheeks were shaking Richard to his core. Between the intense pressure, the sound, and the vibrations, he thought he was going to come apart at the seams.

A more complicated game involved her breasts. Two lengths of floss were taken and tied to either of her nipple rings. The other ends were tied around Richard’s wrists. She couldn’t do that part herself, so she ordered him to do it. Under penalty of being dropped into one of her dirty socks and spun around like a centrifuge until he was liquified. He didn’t want to consider if that were even possible, so he obeyed. When he was secured, hanging between her breasts, she gave his body a tug. It caused her tits to jiggle and her to giggle. It caused Richard tremendous pain.

Richard watched, swinging from his bounds, as Catwoman walked over to her Sybian. Once she sat down and got comfortable, she turned on the large sex toy. Even at its lowest setting, the vibrations greatly disoriented him. He tried to look up when he heard her moan, but it was hard to even get a clear view when constantly shaking, and the size of her breasts somewhat obscuring her face. Richard would have loved to have been witness to her sitting on the toy. Hands starting at her thighs, nails dragging against her skin as they rose up. Fingers gliding along her stomach before grazing over her breasts, stopping only to squeeze her nipples briefly. Then the hands continuing up her body, along her neck. Fingers disappearing into her black hair. All while she cooed and purred. Instead, he was given a front row seat, and like in a movie theater, that made the show unwatchable.

Up and up the dial went, taking Catwoman to more and more orgasms. Richard was focused on two things. The outrageous pain in his wrists, arms, and shoulders, and the steady stream of vibrations rocking through him. He thought his bones might crumble. He couldn’t even enjoy the sounds of Catwoman repeatedly coming.

And of course, he would do some spelunking. Into her mouth, ass, and pussy he was forced to explore. Each cave having its own degrees of heat, pressure, smell, and terror. Each had their own elements that made them worse than the other. So, going into one over the other was never a respite. Catwoman, however, certainly made her enjoyment known.

Making the best of a bad situation, even Richard tried to enjoy himself. While inside her pussy and ass, Richard got a little naughty and started humping her inner walls. She had, after all, told him to move around a lot. He had left several loads inside of her over the course of her games. The idea that she man get pregnant gave him one of the few smiles he’d had since he was kidnapped. It didn’t work out so well when he tried that in her mouth, rubbing himself against her tongue. Catwoman was able to pick up on what that taste was. After she spat him out, she inflicted a punishment too intense to mention here. However, he never tried to cum inside her again.

Over time, Catwoman noticed something. He wasn’t fighting back. He wasn’t squirming or fighting, unless she had instructed him to do so. She had found that she had broken him. While this wasn’t her intention, which was just her own pleasure and his pain, it was welcome surprise. Being an opportunist, she capitalized on it.

Richard was turned into her useless little slave. Useless in that anything she asked him to do took a tremendous about of effort on his part, and usually wasted more time than if she had done it herself. But she got off on ordering him around.

She had him paint her toenails and fingernails. It took a long time, and he often messed up. But when he did, that meant she got to punish him. Her favorite was just spilling the polish into a small dish and dipping him into it. Each nail would be painted, then, with him as the “brush.” He was also asked to apply her lipstick. Difficult to do, too difficult in fact. So, she demoted him to lip gloss duty. That task was more possible for him, certainly, as the gloss stick was lighter than the lipstick…stick. Still, having to work over her yawning cavern, watching her tongue twitch at the air, beckoning him, made him incredibly anxious.

Her favorite use for him, however, was feeding her. Not like that. With food. Grapes, specifically. Catwoman laid back in her bed, reading or browsing on her phone. At random intervals, she’d turn her head and open her mouth. This was Richard’s signal to grab a grape and take it over to her. He could roll it along the bed to her, but once at the mouth, he had to pick it up. Because she wanted him to deliver it to her mouth directly. Into the cavern he braved. His bare feet squishing against her wet inner cheek. Then, as if he was trying not to wake some terrible beast, he laid the grape down as gently and quietly as he could, near her molar. Then he ran. Right out of her mouth before it closed in on him. Catwoman was of course aware of his fear and made sure to chew with her mouth open. So he could see the grape get pulverized easily by her teeth, collected by her tongue, and swallowed by her throat.

The simplest use was just dropping him into a glass of ice-cold milk. It didn’t take long for Richard to know what he’d have to do next. While Catwoman idly watched TV or read a book, she’d sip from the glass. As there was less and less milk in the glass, he had to struggle more and more. With each sip, it became harder to swim away. Every time, he lost that battle. She never swallowed, but it was fun to make him think she would. Once he was spat or plucked out, she made a note of how she forgot he was in there. How he should be more careful if he didn’t want to go down her gullet. This would often be followed with a demonstration. Catwoman pressed him against her stomach and made him listen to it growl.

Catwoman wasn’t always home. Every night, she made time to go out on the prowl. Every night, Richard would come with her. Sometimes she kept him against her breast. He’d be forced to hang onto her nipple ring, or risk slipping further down. Not that there was any risk of that given how tight the suit was. Sometimes she’d stick him against her ass, right above the crack. That way all the sweat that went down her back had to go through him. Other times he’d be pressed against her nether lips. Not inside, no, but the risk was always there he could slip inside. She warned him against that. Occasionally she’d keep him in one of her boots. While she did like stepping on him all night, it made it hard to move around. Like having a pebble in your shoe.

One night, while tucked away against her breast, he heard her talking to someone. He was too disoriented and tired to hear or understand anything, but it sounded like a man. Deep voice, too. When Catwoman got home, she didn’t say anything, but she looked more flushed than usual. She used him a lot that night to get off.

Even in sleep, he didn’t get rest. Whether he was trapped between her tits or tucked away in her panties, front or back, or hidden in her sock, he was with her. If he wasn’t always so exhausted from the day before, he’d never get any sleep. The fear of being absentmindedly crushed was almost as intense as the pressure of her breasts themselves. He’d learned to doze off to the sound of her heartbeat.

Richard had become oddly used to his life with Catwoman. His old life was becoming a distant memory. His new life was simpler, in a lot of ways. He no longer had to manage a criminal empire. He just had to manage one woman, who was also good at managing herself. It was stressful work, even torturous, but he did have pride when he made her smile. Plus, the scarce food she gave him, and the constant physical activity, caused him to be in the best shape of his life. He had the love, as he twistedly saw it, of a good, smoking hot, woman. He no longer needed to worry about the cops, rival gangs, or even Batman. He was content. His life was good.

But all that would change on one dark and stormy night.

“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?”