Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn were entangled in the heat of passion, and each other. The only sounds that surrounded them are the quivering cries of pleasure and the wet sounds of sweat-covered bodies colliding beautifully. For once, a cacophony of horrified screams and/or confused arousal do not mingle with their moans and purrs. At least, none that they can hear, in that moment.

For once, Harley was letting Ivy take the lead. An oddity, given her preference for setting a speed Ivy struggled to keep up with. A challenge Ivy was all too happy to undertake. The beautiful, busty, blonde with large messy pigtails was stretched out on her back, her hips turned only slightly to one side. One leg rested against the “bed,” while the other was bent over one of Ivy’s green stems. From her position, Harley got to enjoy the sight of Poison Ivy rocking back and forth, tits wobbling and voice shuddering.

Ivy, meanwhile, had the privilege of looking down past her glistening breasts and onto Harley Quinn, covered in her own thin layer of glow. Ivy straddled Harley’s leg and was deep into a long night of grinding against her lover. She held onto one of Harley’s thighs lovingly. Meanwhile, her other hand braced against Harley’s soft and welcoming stomach. The vibrations she felt beneath her skin caused her to quiver further.

The two women aggressively, yet lovingly, rubbed their pussies together. Neither of them had bothered to keep track of how many times they had climaxed. It wasn’t even really about that, for them. For them, it was just about expressing their love and adoration for each other. Sharing in a night of pleasure and passion. Each doing her part to satisfy the other. If the entire rest of the world fell away, they would be content. Still, neither could deny that the added company in their bodies helped bring them both to more orgasms than usual.

Inside either woman’s gorgeous, glowing, greedy body were several shrunken men. The hells for these men were similar, as they would all eventually find themselves digested after enduring a night of sloshing stomach acids and muffled moaning and pleasured cries. However, there were differences in experiences.

In Ivy’s body were the remains of her dinner: meat. Meat from various animals, all cooked just enough to be edible, while still leaving a bit of blood in every bite. The presence of human meat, though not cooked, was in like company. Harley’s stomach also contained the remnants of her dinner: candy and junk food. Anything that was sugary and/or salty went inside her. To top it off, she added some wriggling, fresh, meat. The smells, sounds, and sensations in either stomach was unique, as would be the digestion process itself. But it all wound up the same, regardless.

With another shared cry of peak pleasure, the women had reached their limit. Poison Ivy fell forward into her lover’s arms. The impact sent sweat, drool, and cum splashing outward in small droplets. Her bed was soaked. Considering they were lying on a literal bed of roses, Ivy was thankful she wouldn’t have any laundry to do because of it. The two bellies full of screaming men were pressed together as the two villains rested, but only for a moment. Well, rested aside from Ivy’s hips still instinctively, and slowly, rocking against Harley’s thigh. Perhaps that’s why Harley was the first to be roused from her rest.

“Y’know, Red,” she said, still catching her breath, “it wouldn’t kill ya to get a real bed.” Harley’s criticisms came as she squirmed against the beautiful, but not entirely comfortable, bed of roses.

The green woman pushed herself up just enough to peer down at Harley through her curtain of red hair. “No, but it would kill plenty of plants. All the wood, cotton, latex…”

“Okay, okay, forget I mentioned it.” Harley knew she had to stop her lovely, but strongly opinionated, lover before she got going. She wasn’t interested in reading any boring pamphlets. “But as soon as I see a bed made out of skins and fur and…bones and…sinew, or whatever, I’m getting you one.”

Looking at her flushed face, knowing she herself was the reason it was so flushed, kept Ivy’s annoyed anger in check. “You’re lucky you’re so hot, Harleen Quinzel.” Ivy smiled at her a way she didn’t smile at anyone else.

“Hey, that’s what my college professors used to say,” Harley reminisced. “Right before they’d put their D average into my A+!” To add even more lewdness to the memory, she slapped her hands down against Ivy’s ass and squeezed.

Green cheeks, on her face, blushed, growing a deeper shade of green. What would have normally prompted Ivy to “punish” the playful minx, was something she would allow in the post-coital bliss. Once again, her lips found Harley’s and they shared in a kiss that was less about love and more about how hot they found each other to be. Another round of full-body rubdowns with full bodies began. Slick skin against slick skin. Heavy breasts against heavy breasts. Gurgling stomachs against gurgling stomachs, both with muffled cries.

Knowing where the kiss was leading them, Ivy had to stop. She had put off work long enough. Plus, she worried she might be able to keep up with Harley again unless she rested. Begrudgingly, Ivy had to literally peel her sticky skin away from Harley’s and stand up, wobbling. Harley sat up the bare minimum amount, propping herself up on her elbows. Watching that ass, with her handprints still fresh on it, walk away did nothing to calm her down. Before Ivy could leave the room to take a shower, Harley called after her.

“Hey, how come we never fool around in my room? I know my bed isn’t sans-plant-life, but it’s comfortable. Plus, I don’t get thorns in my tuchus,” she added while removing a thorn from her tuchus.

“The questionable morality of your bed’s construction aside, your room is a…how do I put this delicately? A trash-ridden hellscape in which the only life that can thrive is you and a legion of germs yet undiscovered by modern science.” While that didn’t sound delicate at all, after all Ivy rarely was, that was indeed as delicately as she could put it.

“Wow. Tell me how you really feel,” Harley responded.

Ivy snorted. Actually snorted. Harley was the only one who could get that kind of reaction out of here. “Anyway, I need to shower and get back to work, Harl.” Just as she was turning back around, Harley stopped her again.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone, Red?”

It took Ivy several beats to realize to whom she was referring. It wasn’t until Harley cut her eyes down toward her honey pot that Ivy remembered. “Oh! I completely forgot about him!” she admitted, amused. Harley bit her lip as she watched her girlfriend reach into her snatch and pull free man who had been shrunken to only five inches. Ivy held him up to a scrutinizing glare. “Looks like he didn’t make it,” she noted with no amount of remorse or grief. “Shame. I much prefer when they can kick and scream. Oh well,” was her final determining word before she raised him up above her tilted-back head and open mouth. No more than two drops of her own cum fell on her tongue before Harley interrupted her post-sex snack.

“Oh! Oh! I’ll take him!” Harley offered. How could Ivy say no to her? Especially when she was bouncing up and down on her butt, her breasts bouncing along with her. “Knock yourself out, kiddo.” With a phrase that betrayed the grim action of throwing a crushed-lifeless man, who likely drowned or suffocated, Ivy did just that.

Harley went to catch him…and missed. Instead he landed with a splat on her tits. “Shoots and ladders!” Harley cursed, in the way Harley curses, while watching the motionless tiny slowly slip between her girls. Ivy chuckled and made sure to leave before Harley unwittingly managed to seduce her into bed again. The clown girl gripped the man on his chest and brought him to her mouth. He was inserted, feet first, into her hungry maw.

Maybe it was just the right time. Maybe it was his survival instinct unconsciously kicking in. Most likely, it was because of the tickling sensation of her tongue on his feet and legs, and the pleasurable sensation of her tongue on his crotch and butt. Whatever the cause, the man that Ivy believed had been properly punished by her pretty pussy woke up. He woke up halfway through being swallowed, between bubblegum pink lips, by the bodacious blonde. In a different context, he might even be happy about that.

“Whoa! Whoa! Stop! Don’t eat me! Don’t eat me!” He shouted again and again, pushing back on her pillowy lips.

“Hmmphfrggrgrrglmflsl,” Harley responded, as clearly as she could with his legs kicking fruitlessly in her mouth.

“What?!” Now he could add confusion to his list of negative emotions he was feeling.

Rolling her royal blue eyes, Harley repaired the bridge of communication by pulling him out and trying again. “I said,” she started, sounding annoyed, “I’m not eating you. I’m just getting all of Ivy’s honey off of you.”

He didn’t understand what all that meant, but at least she said she wasn’t eating him. So, he gained some relief.

“Then I was going to eat you.”

And immediately lost it.

“Well…don’t!” Not the strongest argument he could make, but it was direct.

“Why not?”

He was surprised he was being asked why eating a human being is wrong. He was more surprised he was getting a response at all. When he pleaded with Ivy to not shove him headfirst into her steaming hot vagina, he was met with only silence (aside from her moaning).

“B-because I’m alive!” Again, not a finely crafted and well delivered argument. Far from his best. However, when faced with imminent death, speed was king. However direct and fast it was, Harley was unimpressed. She merely pursed her lips and shrugged.

“I’m human!” He figured that was obvious, but bared repeating, it seemed.

“Ehhhh…debatable.” Harley replied with disbelief in his argument.

“Debat- what?!” He became further flustered and flabbergasted. “Of course, I’m human! I’m a living, breathing, thinking, feeling, human being. Just like you!”

“Ehhhh…no. Not just like me,” she replied. At least he was getting more words out of her. Getting a better picture of her stance. That would help if he would be allowed to argue more. “See, I’m big and hot. You’re small and…well, actually you are kind of cute,” she had to admit, causing him to blush a little. “Buuuut,” she went on to explain, “cute aint hot. And small definitely aint big. So no, we’re not alike.”

“Well I’m still alive and human. Aren’t you?” He wanted to argue the base facts, things she couldn’t possibly argue against. Then he could have a foundation to work from.

“There’s where you’re wrong, bucko!” Apparently, he was wrong on base facts, too.

“You’re…not human?” It seemed likely, given his situation, but he wanted confirmation all the same.

“Oh, I’m human, and alive, but you’re not.”

“What…what are…What?!” He had fallen back to the basest form of argument.

“You’re a synthetic organism grown in a lab, tailored to exacting and unique specifications, and given a base line of intelligence so you can perform basic human actions and interactions under basic human emotions. For example, kick and scream in terror when faced with the prospect of being eaten alive.” Harley explained it all as if she were reading from a prepared statement. “Least that’s how Ivy describes it. Anyway, in ya go, buckaroo!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” He pleaded for more time on the clock. He was silenced, however, when he went headfirst into her salivating mouth. This time, just his top half. The way she sucked on him; it was like he was a piece of candy. A lollipop, or perhaps even a Popsicle. Rather than just lap away at him and suck, she would also smack her lips as she tasted. This let in brief flashes of light. He was never allowed to be momentarily unaware of what was dead ahead of him: her throat. As she pulled the cum off his body, she collected it on her tongue. That, mixed with saliva, was instinctively swallowed down. He thrashed his body as much as he could. Kicking the air did no good but punching at the roof of her mouth and tongue gained her attention. She pulled him out with a pop.

“Now what?” she asked, annoyed, totally indifferent to his heartfelt pleading.

“I’m not-“ he stopped to cough up some saliva and wipe his face clean. “I’m not some…synthetic…whatever. I’m a human being!”

“Yeah, no, sorry, bub. You just think you are. All you can do is kick and yell and scream ‘help me, help me!’” Harley even did a voice to match the line she borrowed from the original The Fly.

The shrunken man had been a lawyer, before he was shrunken down to be used as a sex toy, and now possibly a snack. So, he was lucky that being shrunken down may have diminished his strength, but not his silver tongue.

“Okay, okay, but if that were true, would I be able to say the things I’m saying to you now?” He worried that someone who would agree to eat people, even ones they assumed weren’t actually humans, wouldn’t listen to reason. However, what other weapon did he have to fight with?

“I…guess not?” His argument had struck fair and true. He waited for her to calculate all the ramifications in her head, then saw his argument had been stronger than he thought. “Ohhh! Oh? Oh no. Oh that…Ivy!” she said angrily under her breath. “Ivy’s been using real people? Shrinking down real people? Steppin’ on ‘em? Sittin’ on ‘em? Using ‘em as sex toys, giving ‘em deadly motorboats, and eating ‘em?” He just nodded along. He hadn’t been a witness to all that, but it sounded like she had been. “And…so have I?!” That revelation seemed to strike her the hardest.

“That lying, no-good- I’m gonna kill her!” Harley lept to her feet, her anger causing her to squeeze her new ally even tighter. “I’m going to march up to her, shove you in her face, and demand answers!” Before she could follow through on that plan, the tiny’s coughing stopped her, and told her to ease up on the squeezing. “Ooo, sorry.”

He waved his hands in the air and shook his head, telling her ‘no’ while his throat was occupied with coughing. “No, no, don’t do that. We can’t be hasty; we don’t know what she would do. First, we should come up with a plan.” In truth, he wasn’t worried about what Ivy would do to her, so much as he was worried what Ivy would do to him.

“A plan, ehhhh?” she repeated after him, stroking her chin and looking off in thought.

“That’s right. So, for now, let’s just keep me a secret, and you act like everything is normal, okay?”

“Like everything’s normal, ehhhh?” She repeated the same action as before.

He was starting to doubt her intelligence. Please tell me I haven’t hitched my wagon to a dumb blonde, he thought. Still, it was the only chance he had, so he stayed diplomatic. “For starters, let’s get to know each other.”

Harley’s enchanting blue eyes snapped back to him and she beamed her equally enchanting smile. “I can do that. The name’s Harleen Quinzel!” she formally introduced herself as.

“Harleen,” he repeated, liking the sound of it, but feeling like he’d heard it somewhere before. It was certainly unique enough. However, he had other issues to focus on. “That’s a beautiful name, Harleen. My name is John.”

“John. That’s a…name,” Harley said, failing to be as complimentary as he was. She tried, but she couldn’t come up with a lie convincing enough.

“Alright, Harleen,” he started. He read that people liked the sound of their own name, so the more he repeated it, the happier she’d be. “The next step should be…” He gave up on continuing when Harley started to openly yawn. That maw, wide open, sent shivers down his spine.

“Oh man, I’m sorry, Jojo,” she apologized. Already she had given him a name she felt was better than his real one. “I am pooped. I don’t know if you heard, but me and Ivy have been at it for hours.” He had heard it, some of it, at least until he went unconscious from the pressure, heat, and diminished flow of oxygen. “We can plot or scheme or whatever tomorrow, okay?” He wanted to get started right away, but how could he tell a woman so much bigger than him what to do? “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

As they passed through the greenhouse, they passed by Poison Ivy. She was standing, naked, under her shower spray. Rather than have a regular one installed, she created one with a genetically engineered plant. The soft trickle of water ran down her dangerously alluring form. Thankfully for John, her head was tilted back, and her eyes closed as she washed her hair.

“Goodnight, Ivy,” Harley said with some venom in her voice.

“Goodnight, Harley,” Ivy said back with the same intensity, though ignorant of Harley’s meaning. She just figured Harley was being Harley. John should have been trying to make himself look smaller, funnily enough, to avoid being spotted. However, he was awestruck by seeing that body half covered in gently flowing soap suds.

 “Mi casa es su casa, Juan!” Harley boasted as they entered her bedroom, moments later. “That’s Spanish for ‘welcome to the Giggle Hut, Jojo.’” There were several things wrong with what she said, but he wasn’t going to argue against anything she said unless it was life threatening. Although, incorrect translation aside, it seemed her room was in fact the Giggle Hut. There, posted above her bed, was a pink and blue neon sign that read Giggle Hut.

“Wait, the Giggle Hut? Wasn’t that the strip/comedy club that mysteriously burned down?” John asked.

“Heck if I know,” Harley said with a shrug, her eyes darting left and right. “I don’t read the tabloids. Not enough funnies.”

“Oh, yeah I guess they haven’t been printing as many comics as they used to,” he agreed.

“No, not those. The obituaries! They stopped printing the grislier ones because they were ‘bumming people out.’ Pft.”  John didn’t have time to unpack that statement before she started up again. “Anyway, this is where you’ll be staying!”

A major problem dawned on him. “Isn’t it risky to keep me in the same apartment as Poison Ivy? What if she finds me? Why don’t you take me to the pol-“

“Pfffffft,” Harley loudly noised. “Don’t sweat it, short stuff. Ivy never comes in here. Not sure why.”

John peered down at the floor, or what he could see of it. Everywhere he looked there were empty soda cans, candy wrappers, and junk food bags. His eyes moved up to take in more of the room. Like the floor, there was little of her bedroom that didn’t look like a disaster movie. There were only two areas of her room that looked to have had any kind of care.

Along one wall was an entirely new wall that ran alongside it. A wall of Funko Pop boxes. It’s like looking at the inside of a video game store, he thought. From floor to ceiling they were stacked. From one end of the room to the other they ran. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t a repeat in the bunch. The other area of note was a corner she had turned into a shrine to…Joan Rivers? As for her bed, it too was a mess. In addition to having been poorly made up, it was littered with clothes, pizza boxes, and cans of silly string. There was a door to what he assumed was her closet and a door to what he would soon learn was to her bathroom. However, there wasn’t a single window to be seen. I guess I won’t be getting out through the fire escape.

“It looks lived in,” he said, doing his best to remain agreeable.

“That’s what I said!” Harley beamed. “You get me, Jelly Bean, you get me. Anyway, close your eyes.”

“What? Why?” He didn’t like the idea of not watching her every move, just in case.

“Uh, duh, because I’m about to get dressed, pervo,” she explained and teased. She even tried to give him a playful punch to the shoulder. Since she couldn’t do that, she flicked him on the shoulder instead. Which hurt him more than she thought, and more than he let on.

Amid the stinging pain, he realized he’d never actually seen her body. Ivy had turned him into a cave explorer before Harley had even entered the room. He woke up staring down at her face. Every step from then on, she kept him at face level so they could talk. Tempted though he was to look down, he played along.

“Sure, yeah, no problem,” he agreed as he shut his eyes. For good measure, he even put his hands over them.

“Atta boy. I’m going to set you down on my dresser, but don’t peek, okay? Or I’ll sit on you!” A hearty laugh followed her playful threat. However, given his night, he couldn’t tell if it was an idle one or not. Understandably, he didn’t risk it, and didn’t open his eyes again until she came out moments later and told him to.

When he did, he was greeted by a most agreeable, but still strange, sight. Harley had changed into her sleepwear. She wore a pair of pink sweatpants that had a constellation of stains and holes. On top she wore a light blue tank-top featuring the smiling visage of Steve Urkel, complete with catch phrase. On their own they were by far the most unflattering clothes he could imagine. But on her? With her abundance of curves? She made them work better than a negligee.

Her pants hem had lost the elastic over the years, so they hung low on her hips. They only stayed up by virtue of how wide said hips were, and only just barely. They were one errant pull away from falling down. Their position showed off her hip bones and the start of a tattoo just below them, on the right. It appeared, to John, like it could be a playing card.

When she turned around, to remove some boxes and cans from her bed (not all, just enough to be comfortable), he noticed two more things about her pants. Firstly, that the word “CRUNCHY” was written across her ass. Bugs Bunny was featured on the right cheek, but he was all green. Clearly the pants were some bizarre Chinese knock off that she found amusing. Secondly, that the low hanging nature of her pants exposed the top inch of her ass crack. He gulped when he saw it. He shivered when she bent over and demonstrated the outward curves of her butt.

As for her shirt, the most noticeable thing about it, more so than Urkel himself, was its size. It was clearly too small for her. It was likely a shirt from her childhood, both due to its datedness and its size. It bunched up so close to her chest that her entire stomach was exposed. A vast run of smooth, pale, flesh stretched taut over her athletic frame. The fabric was also clearly near its limit when stretched over her enormous, and impossibly perky, breasts. Harley called them ‘fun sized.’ Not due to a small size, quite the opposite. Rather it was for how much fun Ivy got from them. By some miracle, all the women in the Sirens household were blessed with big, perky, tits. They also all had great legs, great asses, great stomachs, great lips, great eyes, and great sex drives. At that moment, John was focused on Harley’s great breasts.

“Hey!” Harley shouted, snapping him out of the trance her chest, her body in general, put him in. He was already coming up with excuses to explain his lewd staring. “I just realized it doesn’t matter if you see me naked!”

“It…it doesn’t?” There was trepidation in his voice, but also hope.

“Nope! Cause I’ve already seen you naked!” Harley giggled.

When she said that, he thought about his stark nudity for the first time since he’d been woken up by her lips. Fuck’s sake, don’t think about those lips now, he thought to himself. Doing so would have only added to the growing problem between his legs. Ashamed, he clasped his hands over his embarrassingly hard cock.

“No use hiding it now, J-Lo,” Harley purred, coming in close and leaning down to speak in a lower volume. “I’ve already peeked at my Christmas present.” He thought he was going to pass out. Harley then bounced back, emphasis on bounced, and let out an enormous yawn. Arms swung back and back arched as far as it could. John thought Urkel was going to come apart down the middle the way her chest was straining him. What’s more, he swore he could make out the slightly obscured vision of her nipples, as the fabric grew thinner. He only blinked again when she relaxed her body.

“So, do you want the top bunk or the bottom bunk?” she asked him.

John looked around, and sure enough there was only one bed. Clearly, he had no idea what she was talking about, but his sex-addled mind wouldn’t even let him form the words need to question it. So, he just repeated the words she used to give an answer.

“Top bunk?”

Harley snapped her legs together and stood up straight before giving a firm salute. The sudden, jerking, motions caused her tits to bounce again. John was worried he might pass out if things didn’t change soon. “You got it, chief!” Harley exclaimed. As swiftly as she spoke, she swiped John up off the dresser and shoved him halfway down, feet first, between those tits he was becoming obsessed with. Only by virtue of her shirt being so tight, and her breasts being so large and perky, did John not immediately slip through her cleavage and fall. In that moment, he wondered what the bottom bunk would have been.

In another sudden, and bounce-inducing, moment, Harley spun on her heels and jumped face first onto her bed. Thankfully for John, he had airbags. Still, it wasn’t the most pleasant experience being nearly crushed by the weight of her, along with her breasts squeezing even tighter now. Given the context, though, he forgave her recklessness. At the very least, it didn’t last long, as Harley rolled over and laid flat on her back.

Harley reached over to her bedside table and grabbed a can of whipped cream. After giving it a few hearty shakes (you know by now what kind of effect that had elsewhere), she ejected three seconds’ worth of cream into her mouth. She then did her best to say ‘goodnight’ without disturbing the cream. Afterward, Harley turned to lay on her side. Now John was being crushed, again, but at least by only one tit. It was a weight he could easily endure. It was also one he’d have to endure.

The sound of her gentle heartbeat could have helped to lull him to sleep upon the greatest pillows he’d ever rested on. However, the blaring bright light of the neon light she left on was hard to ignore. Furthermore, he learned she hadn’t showered after her marathon fuck-session with Ivy. Her skin was sticky with sweat and cum, from two parties. The smell was intense, and the stickiness ensured that he wouldn’t be going anywhere, even if he could fight against the weight of her breast.

I’ve had worse nights with worse blondes, he thought.

John wished he could say that it was the light, that broke into Harley’s room, between the Funko Pop boxes, that woke him up. He wished he could say that because it would mean he was asleep before it did. In truth, he slept far less than not after Harley put him to “bed.” The rhythmic beats of her heart combined with the soft confines of her breasts helped put him to sleep. However, there was much that kept waking him up.

The buzzing light of the neon sign, the smell of her sweaty post-sex body, and the sound of her occasional, bafflingly loud, snoring. Most of all, the constant anxiety he felt thinking he could be discovered by Ivy at any moment. It all worked together to keep him from resting. So, when the light broke into Harley’s room, from between the Funko boxes, John wished it had woken him up. Because that would have meant he was asleep.

“I guess she does have a window,” he muttered to himself. Not only had Harley covered up a wall with the boxes of toys, she had covered up a window too. It didn’t make sense to John. As he was learning, though, nothing Harley did made sense to him. Her only motivation seemed to be immediate enjoyment. Absolute fun. No matter the long-term consequences. It didn’t bode well for him, he thought. It just made his need to get out of there all the more pressing. As bizarre as it was to think of such a concept, he knew he had to peel himself away from the beautiful, busty, blonde bimbo he was resting on.

Her skin was still a bit sticky, but the sweat had by then dried up. Peeling himself off her chest was the hardest part. From there it would be much easier. For a little bit. After he managed to pull himself free of her big, but sticky, but warm, but tight, chest, he stood unsteadily near her collarbone. He looked up at her and wondered if he should try to wake her. Two things stopped him. One, he was still a bit afraid of going near her mouth. As pleasurable as he had to admit it was, knowing the context for why he was in her mouth still terrified him. As for the second reason, well he figured he was better off on his own. At least for a little bit. Thus, back toward her tits he walked.

It wasn’t a steep climb to get up her breasts. It may have been harder if her skin was fully cleaned; smooth and unblemished. Again, because of her lack of shower the night before, he was able to gain some grip on her dried-sweat chest. The hard part, ironically, was due to how soft her tits were. He was convinced she had implants, but after pressing down against her jugs, seeing how soft and yielding they were to his touch, he was amazed. Amazed this woman could have such generous assets that balked at the idea of gravity. I wish I had met you under different circumstances, Harleen, he thought. Though, if being shrunken down was the only way he would get to spend so much time with her boobs, he considered that a fair trade.

Up her breast he scaled, until finally he reached the top. He tried standing, but he couldn’t find steady footing, so he stayed on hands and knees. John peered down her breast and along the rest of her body. There was so much of her, and all of it was a sight to behold. Not wasting anymore time, John slid as best he could down her tit. The rest of her body lay before him, and thus he began his walk.

It wasn’t easy, walking along her torso as she breathed, albeit steadily. Quickly he learned how to keep his balance. Her toned stomach provided many ridges, but he found enough perfectly flat expanse to stay balanced. Below his feet, her stomach growled. As if it felt him approach. She’s hungry, he thought with grim implications. If only he knew just how grim things were, he would have run instead of walked. Despite that, he couldn’t help but admire how trim she kept herself.

She must really stay active, he thought. Like jogging…that or all that sex last night, with her murderous roommate, was just a typical night for her. Either thought put the image of a bouncy Harley in his mind. Soon enough, he reached the end of her torso and the start of her hips. After that it was just a crumb’s throw away from privates. He instinctively gulped.

Though he would never admit it to anyone else, he considered it. Considered slipping into her pants and exploring between her legs. He considered getting hands-on with Harley, so to speak, while she slept. He may very well have, if he wasn’t also concerned for his life. Putting aside his horniness, briefly, he opted to instead jump down between her legs, outside of her pants.

Harley’s legs were parted halfway to spread-eagle. There was plenty of room for him to move around. What he hadn’t anticipated was how the bed would be even harder to navigate than her body. Harley’s blanket, that looked like the back of a Vegas playing card, was thick and smooth, and had many hills and dips. Immediately upon landing, he fell backward toward her crotch. He had tried to do better than his instincts wanted him to, but they go their way.

Right away he felt the heat coming off her. Even through her lounge pants it was obvious. Jesus, is she horny even in her sleep? Feeling like he had a once in a lifetime opportunity sitting in front of him, John investigated further. His hands pressed in against her pants. He didn’t have to press hard before he touched her lips. Immediately, Harley made a sound and he pulled back. When he realized the sound was a moan, and more importantly that she was still asleep, he resumed. Despite how little impact he mad, he was still managing to bring her pleasure. That idea excited him. It excited Harley, too. Maybe too much.

Too focused on massaging her outer lips, John didn’t notice the looming shadow before it was too late. Harley’s hand had come down upon him and moved to press John against her crotch. He tried to struggle loose, but that just made things worse for him, and better for Harley. Her fingers gently rubbed against herself, pushing John along with them into her covered crotch. Nothing he did worked to free himself, and even being still didn’t stop Harley.

“Oh, no, Mr. Cosby, let me buy you a drink,” he heard her say in her sleep, moaning and giggling before and after. What the hell kind of sex dream is she having? He wondered. As he was pressed against her, he could feel her get hotter and hotter; wetter and wetter. His time there was short-lived, however, and Harley brought her hand back up – with John. Her fingers had accidentally closed around him, taking him with them. They didn’t relax until he was back over her chest, where he dropped.

John was right back where he started, halfway between Harley’s breasts. Only now, he was face-first into her cleavage. His legs kicked wildly above her cleavage as he struggled for air and freedom. Perhaps it was his frantic kicking that finally stirred Harley to wake up and take notice. The blonde sat up and let out a huge yawn. John didn’t realize it, but it was good his ears were muffled at that moment. When she looked down to greet her new friend, she saw his legs kicking and his ass trying to wriggle free.

“Well good morning, sunshine,” she greeted with a laugh. “I see you made me ham for breakfast,” Harley added while looking at his bare ass pointed at her. John felt his ankle being gripped before he was plucked free. Upside down he hung, looking at the well-rested Harleen Quinzel. “Rise and shine, J-Man. Emphasis on the rise,” Harley said while looking at the erection he gained while exploring her body. Instinctively he tried to cover up, which only made Harley giggle. “I already told ya, there’s no reason to shy around me. So, did you sleep well on the world’s best pillows?” Harley asked while bouncing her chest.

He couldn’t help but peer down when she jiggled her breasts, but he did his best to focus. “I, uh, I did, actually! Better than a Holiday Inn,” he lied. Again, he wanted to keep her happy and agreeable.

“Ha!” she blasted. “That’s funny. You’re funny. I like funny,” Harley beamed. No shit, John thought, but kept on smiling. “First thing’s first, let’s get cleaned up, Johnny Boy,” she decided. Harley swung her legs over the bed and somehow managed to find the scant bit of floor that existed beneath all the trash. As if she was avoiding alarm-activating lasers, she navigated her room with grace and precision.

Although her bathroom was not pristine, John had to admit it was at least better kept than her bedroom. He just couldn’t get a good look while upside down. He would be put back upright when Harley gently placed him down on the edge of her sink. It was difficult to keep himself from falling into it, but it would have been easier if he was focused on that. Instead, he was focused on Harley undressing.

Up came her top, letting her well-confined breasts bounce free. He gasped when he saw those perfect rose-pink nipples come into view for the first time. He chided himself for not exploring those when he had the chance. Little did he know, he would get plenty of chances. Next came her pants, which dropped as if with just a thought they were so loose. That is one perfect pussy, he crudely thought to himself. Crude or not, he wasn’t wrong. Harley was almost entirely shaved except for one patch of hair shaped into a diamond. Half of it was dark, while the other half was dyed red. I’m sure there’s a story there, he thought. When she turned around to open the sliding glass door of her shower, he of course took a peek at her butt. He already knew how perfectly that was shaped. What he learned, however, was of the tattoo of the letter “J” on her right cheek. I’m sure there’s an even better story there, he thought.

Harley gave a waking stretch and yawn combo as the shower water heated up. It served to help her limber up. It served to keep John’s erection going strong. I swear, she’s moving in slow motion. Slow motion or not, John wouldn’t have long to enjoy before Harley picked him back up and took him with her into the shower. There wasn’t much room in there, but it wasn’t like John took up a lot of space.

“First, let’s get you wet,” Harley said. “Like you did for me,” she added with a sultry whisper. Before he could even reply, or think about the implications, she put him directly under the spray while holding him in her palm. To John, it felt like being in the middle of hurricane rain. At least she only let him linger in the onslaught of “rain” briefly. “Now, you soap up while I get wet, too,” Harley told John while setting him on the bar of soap in the soap dish. “Well, wetter,” she added, as if her first comment didn’t already land a direct hit on John.

This woman is going to make me pass out. Hell, even after Ivy, I might volunteer to climb inside her hot, pink, cunt. More so than the sink, it was a struggle to stay on top of the bar of soap. However, he managed to succeed there, too. Handfuls of soap were collected from the bar he sat upon and were applied to his body. It felt amazing. John was starting to enjoy himself. He was taking a shower with a bodacious babe. Just not in the context he was used to or could have imagined. However happy he was, it wouldn’t last long.

Seemingly caught up in the routine of taking a shower, Harley, after getting wetter, reached for the soap. Without removing John first, her hand came down upon him harshly, and pressed him against the bar. As if it weren’t bad enough he was being pinned there by Harley’s hand, he was also being pressed into the bar. Not fully, luckily, and his head was mercifully above the edge of the soap bar. Still, it was enough to keep him from getting out easily.

At first, Harley applied the soap with the side sans John to her skin. After a fair coating along her neck, she flipped the soap around and started to rub the soap, and John, over her body. John began his journey with her breasts. Up and down Harley moved the soap, then in circles, against her breasts. John was having trouble even enjoying the experience. He was preoccupied with trying to get free and trying to keep soap out of his mouth and eyes. John felt the most pressure when Harley moved her soap up against the bottom of her breasts. As she moved the soap up, she was basically lifting her tit, forcing John to endure its weight. John was not having fun, but Harley definitely was. John realized that as he passed over her nipples many times. Each time, her nipples grew more and more erect.

“Oh, John,” Harley quivered, “Something about this soap is amazing today.” John didn’t hear a word of this. All he heard were the sounds of his body sliding against her slick skin. The rest of her body was scrubbed, but no areas were given as much attention as her breasts, ass, and pussy. As he was rubbed up and down her inner thighs, John made an accurate guess where he’d go next.

The soap and John combo were lovingly caressed against Harley’s sex. With every pass, Harley became more enamored. More aggressive. John was pressed against her lips with increasing strength until he was between them. All the while, he was hard as a rock. Sure, he was being tortured, but knowing the context of his torture helped him to endure. Although she kept changing the tempo and pressure, he grew used to the movements, to the point he was enjoying things more. He came close to coming, in fact, until she switched gears.

The shower was first and foremost a way for her to get clean, and there was still one part left to cover. John muttered countless “no’s” as he neared her ass. As she scrubbed her cheeks, he just thought the objections over and over. Then, he went between her cheeks. Harley Quinn loved ass play more than anything. Eating ass, having her ass eaten, putting things inside her ass. Everything. Naturally she made sure that part of her body was nice and clean. John could confirm that. Even so, he wasn’t having a great time. Up and down along the crack before being rubbed up against her puckered hole.

“Fuck, this soap is really amazing,” Harley said aloud again. Without thinking, she brought the bar back up to a breast and pressed it against her sensitive nipple. As she did, holding the bar firmly against her nipple, John managed to get free. Somewhat. He had successfully pulled his arms free of the soap. Upon feeling himself against that hard, pink, nipple, he grabbed on. His hope would be that as soon as she pulled the soap back, he’d be left on her breast. Not the most well thought out plan, but a successful one. Sure enough, as soon as she moved the bar, he was left hanging onto her nipple. Her soapy, slick, hard to grip nipple.

“Jiggle Physics, my man, you are about to get a show,” Harley announced to the soap dish, never bothering to actually look directly at it. Though John’s grip was very weak and slippery, promising to fail seconds after the soap left, he wouldn’t need to worry. At least not about falling. As soon as he felt his grip start to fail, and after he heard what Harley said, Harley moved. She pressed her massive mammaries right up against the glass sliding door to her shower.

With all his strength, John pushed back against her titty. Certainly, it did nothing to stop her, but it did create enough of a dent in her breast to allow him a pocket of air. Harley didn’t make it easy for him to maintain this, however. She was constantly shifting, moving her breasts up, down, left, and right against the glass. Making loud squeaks each time. As she got more excited, she’d press even harder, testing John’s strength and endurance. And she got plenty excited.

While John fought for his life, Harley fought for her pleasure. While one hand started to finger herself in front, the other fingered herself in the back. Both holes were being pumped for pleasure, both starting with one finger each before graduating to two apiece. Whenever she found a particularly rewarding spot inside herself, she’d shout things like “Yahtzee!” and “Scrabble!” and “Monopoly!”

Harley’s imagination began to fill in the blanks for her current position. She imagined a lover, big and strong, with a cock thicker than what her fingers could provide. Sure, she loved Ivy. More than anyone, in fact. Ivy could make her smile and swoon and come like no one else could. That didn’t mean Harley didn’t miss “the vitamin D,” as she called it. Maybe one day Ivy would give her the present she always asked for: a hot, hung, stud; chained up in her bedroom for her to use as she pleased. Until that day, she’d have to stick to her incredibly vivid and active imagination.

She imagined her lover standing behind her, taking what he wanted. He was tall, dark, and handsome. He also had a love of nocturnal rodents. He had a deep, commanding, voice, telling her to keep her legs spread wide so he could shove himself into her. He would keep her pinned while he fought to fit his fat meat into her tight tunnel; her cheek pressed against the glass just as it was in reality. Of course, she felt John against her nipple the whole time. She just didn’t register the sensation as John. Harley assumed it was just her imagination being so vivid and active that she could feel her mental sex god pinching her nipple.

Despite what John had told her, she still couldn’t help but imagine her belly fully of little men, men she found wanting in the face of her ideal man. It’s alright to think those things, so long as it’s a fantasy, right? Morality aside, Harley’s fantasy fuck lasted longer than her cleaning. As her brooding lover filled her ass with an overflowing amount of thick batter, drowning any tinies she had left inside that hole, she climaxed. Her eyes crossed, her tongue dropped, her knees buckled, and her toes curled. John would have to wait until she calmed down before her breasts relented.

Slightly out of breath, Harley fluttered her eyes open and smiled, face still against the shower door. “I feel like I’m in one of those orgasmic-shampoo commercials, from years ago,” Harley admitted. “Remember those, John?...John?” Finally, Harley turned to look at the soap dish and found that there was only the soap, no John. The chesty woman pushed herself off the glass so she could peer down at the floor, looking for the presumed fallen man. She wouldn’t have to look far, as she spotted him almost immediately on her tit.

“Well, well, well. Coping a feel, Agent Jay? How’d you know I like my men aggressive?” Harley teased. Now free of the glass, John was at the mercy of her slick nipple; a mercy that ran out quick. Before he could even yell up at her to pick him up, he slipped. Lucky for him, he fell only a short distance before falling onto Harley’s palm. He caught his breath while she lifted him to her face.

“Now that we got clean, and a little dirty,” she made sure to add with a wink, “it’s time to start the day!” She spoke in a tone that wasn’t at all in line with the state John was in. It wasn’t at all in line with what he endured. It wasn’t even in line with the fact that she just masturbated, intensely, against a man she had known for less than 24 hours! John was finding it difficult to keep up with her.

As John would find, things would only get harder. Over the next few days, he would continue to struggle against Harley’s love of fun and sex, often at the same time.

//////////

Shortly after the shower incident, Harley took it upon herself to show John around her room. He couldn’t understand why. Afterall, she was supposed to help him escape. Even so, John was the ever the agreeable guest and played along. At least he got to enjoy riding atop her cleavage. She said it was just easier than carrying him around in her hands. He had no objections. Everything she showed him was either weird or mundane. The one item she valued the most, however, was a whoopie cushion.

To John, it looked like any ordinary whoopie cushion – not that he’d seen many in his life. To Harley, it was special. She described it as the first gag prop she ever owned. Harley said it was her first step to becoming the woman she currently was. John just wished he had gotten a chance to meet her before that. Not content with just describing the item like a museum piece, though she revered it as such, Harley wanted to show John how it worked.

“That’s okay,” he declined. “I know how it works.”

“Yea, but you need to hear how it sounds,” Harley persisted.

“I think I know how a whoopie cushion sounds.”

“Not like this one, you don’t.” With that promise, Harley set to work blowing up the cushion, setting it on a chair, and then pulling John out of her shirt. Though confused, he continued to go along with her idea. By that point, John really should have realized he shouldn’t do that. Of course, what fight could he have put up if she insisted anyway?

With bated breath and excitement, Harley held John a short distance above the cushion and…dropped him. The cushion barely let out a whimpering sound. John wasn’t surprised and Harley looked disappointed. She tried again, dropping him from slightly higher. Again, she didn’t get the effect she wanted. Seemingly unaware of the problem, Harley blamed it on John doing it wrong.

“No, no, no. Here, I’ll show you how it’s done,” Harley insisted. Without bothering to remove John first, Harley turned her back to him. John peered up at her ass, covered just barely in her green gym shorts with white pinstripes. It was so small on her that, from his angle, he could see the pink underwear that was wearing. He could see where the fabric began to narrow and move to no doubt disappear between her cheeks. Mostly what he saw, though, was her ass coming down on him.

When Harley sat on the cushion, it let out the sound she had been waiting for. John heard it, somewhat. It was muffled, given he was pinned under her ass. More than that, he felt it. The violent vibrations would have flung him off if he wasn’t pinned. Instead, they just violently shook him. A momentarily, but very unpleasant, sensation. Once it passed, he could focus on the sensation of being crushed by the greatest ass he’d ever seen.

Now, for Harley, the sound the cushion produced was delightful. Another aspect of the cushion, something John couldn’t have expected, was about the flat nozzle-like end of the cushion where the air entered and exited. For whatever reason, when it flapped while expelling air, it had a way of rapidly hitting Harley lightly against her crotch. It was subtle, but noticeable, and had an immediate effect on her mood. In short, sitting on that whoopie cushion teased her pussy and got her horny.

The whoopie cushion had consumed her focus, so there was no thought given to how John was doing. Or even who John was. She just wanted to get off. As her hands roamed down her neck and over her breasts, stopping to squeeze their ripe fullness, Harley began to grind her ass into the cushion. Back and forth, back and forth, expelling what little air was left in little fart bursts. This made Harley giggle and smile. It made John scream and fear for his life.

John’s body was being rolled against her ass and the cushion. He worried he might die, or at least break something. To his surprise, he was proving to be quite durable. Regardless, he felt the pain of the experience at full blast. Luckily, while the hips swiveled, John got moved from under her butt cheek to between them. The gap created wasn’t much, but it was all he needed to start crawling forward. When the butt started moving back and forth again, that helped him along. Though he would have preferred to not have it.

Meanwhile, Harley was enjoying herself immensely. She had gone from caressing her body to fingering herself – and caressing her body. After making her breasts sore from all the squeezing, Harley stopped her hand from doing more by biting down lightly on her index finger. Her other hand busied itself inside her pants. Drool trickled from the corner of her smiling lips and dripped into her cleavage. At any moment she should have thought about John, but she couldn’t. Because once again, her imagination took over.

While in the shower she was being dominated. While in the chair she was dominating. Harley imagined herself with a particular young ward who liked red and green tights. She imagined herself sitting right on his face, grinding against it as he was forced to eat her ass. “That’s it, eat up for mommy,” she muttered to herself. “After all, you’re a growing boy!” In her fantasy, the young man was struggling against the treat. Therefore, John’s own struggles fueled her imagination further.

By the time John had escaped, he was soaked. When he passed under her pussy her juices had started dripping directly along his path. Once out, he stood up and shook as much of the thick fluid off as he could. Looking up, he was easily distracted by the sight of Harley fingering herself. He was captivated with the delving motions of her fingers. He was entranced by the slight jiggle of her breasts, their size slightly obscuring her lewd face. If he weren’t so distracted, captivated, and entranced, John may have been able to avoid what came next.

As her reluctant, imaginary, lover passed out under her ass, deprived of enough oxygen, as John almost was, Harley came. Hard. Just as John saw her head fall back out of his view, her legs shut. The tall walls of her creamy thighs slammed together and pinned John between them. He was stuck there, trying not to be crushed or suffocated, as Harley rode out her orgasm.

After Harley came down, her body started to relax. When she came back to reality, she felt something against her thighs. Parting them, she saw John briefly stuck to one before falling back onto the chair. Without a word, she picked him back up and carried him in her palm, lifting him up so she could hear him.

“So, Jigglypuff, what did you think?” she plainly asked.

John huffed and puffed, taking far longer to recover than Harley did. “A-about…about what?”

“About the whoopie cushion, silly!” Harley giggled, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t it sound great?”

“I…I guess? It sounded good, sure,” he said in defeat.

“You guess?” Harley repeated, clearly unhappy with his answer. “Good? No, no, no. You gotta listen to the specific reverberations and notes, Jimmy Dean’s Breakfast Sausage. Hold on, I’ll do it again.”

“No! No, no, it’s fine,” John pleaded, quickly working on mending the situation. “It was, by far, the most…intense, life-changing…whoopie cushion I’ve ever experienced.” All true, just not in the context Harley thought.

“I knew you got it!” Harley happily stated. She started to feel his now sticky, wet, body, and was reminded of how sticky and wet she made herself. “Guess things got a little intense for me, too,” she understated. “Looks like we need a shower!”

John knew what would likely happen in the shower. And he was right. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it.

//////////

The adventures of Harley and John weren’t confined entirely to her room, of course. In fact, they went outside the walls of the apartment. For one night.

Harley told John that she was going out. The way she explained it was like she was leaving her teenage son alone in the house for the first time. While John didn’t appreciate the humor and slight condescension, he ignored it while focusing on the opportunity. He saw his chance to escape.

John asked Harley, quite simply, if he could go with her. No complex reasons or approaches, just a blunt request. He had learned through the brief, but intense, time he knew her that the direct approach was best. No opportunities to misinterpret his meaning or intention. No chance for her to somehow turn it into a sexy accident. Or so he thought.

Not even dressed, but fully undressed, Harley considered the idea, but found a problem. “I don’t have any pockets,” she told him.

He wasn’t too surprised. He knew women’s fashion tended to skimp on pockets. Even when there were pockets, they were only for show. Having done it a lot already, he felt no shame in suggesting he stay in her cleavage. Having done it a lot already, she felt no shame in accepting.

Before she had even stepped into her outfit, Harley plucked John up. “I need both hands to get dressed, so I’ll have to hold onto you elsewhere,” she explained. In the middle of telling her to just leave him on the dresser where he was, Harley shoved him head-first into her mouth. Only his legs were left in the open air. He kicked, of course. Harley, of course, told him to stay still. Difficult to do with John in her mouth. Whether he understood or not, he stopped eventually. Likely having just given up on the struggle. Once Harley did something, he couldn’t get her to stop.

While John was being casually lapped at by her tongue; while Harley casually hummed and annoyed John, she got dressed. In truth, she had plenty of outfits that featured pockets, or some way to carry John without issue. However, she was dead set on wearing her classic red and black one piece. Harley had to shake as she pulled the costume up, fighting to fit her curves into the snug outfit. Once it was half covering her breasts, pushing them together, Harley opened her mouth.

Out tumbled John, directly onto her cleavage. Without even being given a chance to see what she was wearing, the rest of the latex was pulled up over him. When the last bit was set, and before she put on her make-up, she checked herself out in the closet mirror. She looked good. Damn good. Dangerously good. Just how Harley liked to look. There was one, five-inch, problem, however. There, atop her breasts, was a wriggling John-shaped bump.

“Well we can’t have that,” Harley remarked to herself. Grumbling, Harley turned from the mirror and started to peel her suit off. Not entirely off, just enough to reach in and grab John.

“What the hell are you wearing?” He asked between heavy breaths.

“My costume!” she proudly exclaimed.

“Are you…going to a costume party?” John asked, confused about her plans.

“Sweetie, everywhere I go is a party,” Harley saucily boasted. “Anyway, my costume is too tight,” she explained, forcing John to imagine what she would look like in a tight costume, “so we’ll go with Plan B.” Harley broke to snicker. “Get it? Plan B?”

“I…no?” John was now even more confused.

“Don’t worry, you will,” Harley promised. Back into her mouth he went, as she needed both hands to pull her costume down further. Whatever Plan B was, she seemed excited about it, John thought. Judging by how her humming was more upbeat. Once the costume was down below her ass, she pulled John out and swiftly moved him toward it.

“Wait, wait, wait no!” he yelled as he saw her pull aside one of her cheeks and expose her clean asshole, albeit still an asshole. Harley couldn’t hear a word he was saying, and just took his squirming to mean he was excited to get in there.

“Patience, Iago, patience,” she quoted The Lion King in her best Scar voice. Though she had been very careless with him up to that point, and would continue to be after, she had an uncharacteristic moment of forethought. While it would have been easier to shove him up there face first, he might also suffocate. Tinies were tough and could last a long time up her pussy. However, her ass, like most asses, was far tighter. Many had suffocated up there. She wasn’t going to do that to John. To prevent this, she inserted him in feet first.

He of course fought back, kicking and yelling fruitlessly, but she got her way. As he continued to squirm inside her, Harley moaned. “You keep struggling, I’m going to have to rub one out, and then we’ll be late,” she said with some excitement. “Then I’ll have to punish you!” she said with even more excitement. If she hadn’t been punishing him already, John thought, he couldn’t imagine what actual punishment would be. He therefore fought his instincts and stayed still while she pushed him in. Not wanting to suffocate him, she left his head poking out. Then the suit came back up.

As the suit traveled back up, her cheeks were clenched together even tighter than before. John felt her cheeks pressing against his head. More than that, he felt her insides squeezing him tighter than he thought possible. He tried to move a little but accomplished nothing but making Harley moan. Though he would try to stay still the rest of the night, something would always make him struggle, and Harley would always moan.

During the long night, Harley got up to all sorts of activities. Running, jumping, squatting, splitting, and sitting to rest. What kind of party is this? He wondered, briefly. Mostly he wondered when it would all end. Because no matter what she did, it all produced the same thing: sweat. If the sweat on her ass wasn’t bad enough, her back sweat came too. Down her back it trickled before it was funneled by the curves of her ass and down its crack. Over and over John endured drop after drop rolling over his face and coating him.

It was nearly morning when she returned home. No big score, but so arrest either, so she couldn’t complain. Lazily she peeled herself out of her suit. Exhausted, as soon as she haphazardly tossed it into the closet, she collapsed on the bed. Completely neglecting the fact she was supposed to pull John free.

His hope of using her outing as a means of escape had failed. Now he was just hoping to escape her ass. That, too, would fail. While she slept, he stayed inside her. Certainly, he tried to get free. With the suit gone, he at least had hope of escape. Whenever he’d make any noticeable progress, however, her body would react. Feeling him wriggle inside her caused her asshole to clench. When it did, it not only squeezed him tighter, it also pulled him back down. Eventually he gave up on that and tried to sleep. At least she’s warm, he thought. However, the smells kept him from getting any good rest.

Naturally, when she awoke, and pulled him free, she denoted that they both smelled bad, and thus both needed a shower. Unsurprisingly, Harley found a new way to sexually tease and physically torment John.

//////////

Although many of his abuses happened in the shower, gradually giving him a complex about bathrooms, they weren’t all in the shower. One incident was in the bath. Appropriate to the relaxing nature of the bath, this particular event wasn’t all that traumatizing. Regardless, he could have done without it.

Another event occurred that saw Harley getting off while John was stuffed inside her ass. He couldn’t even remember why; his brain was so scrambled. Predictably, Harley said they both needed to get clean. Unpredictably, Harley didn’t go to her bathroom. Instead, she took John in hand, both stark naked, and walked to her roommate’s room.

John marveled at the décor and even the architecture of the bedroom. They were in Selina’s room. Why couldn’t this one have found me? He wondered, unaware of how dire a wish that would have been. They weren’t there for the bedroom, however. They were there for the bathroom.

Similarly, to the bedroom, Selina’s bathroom was immaculate. White and gold, and high-quality wood. She even had a spacious, inviting, bathtub. John waited for the other shoe to drop, for Harley to find some way to make it a nightmare. If it was going to come, however, it wouldn’t come while he was expecting it. Or how he would expect it.

While John waited on the edge of the tub, watching it fill with water, Harley looked at the music collection Selina had on a shelf.

“Let’s see here…Marvin Gaye, Barry White…Jeez, Selina has terrible taste!” Harley complained. “You wait there, Jingle All the Way, I’m gonna get some bath supplies!”

While she was gone, John thought about escape. There hadn’t been a moment she hadn’t been with him since the night in the greenhouse. Now he was alone. He was also in unfamiliar territory. Plus, the floor beneath him was flat and hard. Not at all like the soft, though filthy, carpet of Harley’s bedroom. Most of all was the house cat that was sitting by the entrance to the bathroom; eyeing him, wantingly.

“Shoo! Shoo!” He heard Harley say to the cat, sending it running. When she re-entered, she had with her the promised bath supplies. With the tub half filled, Harley snapped into action.

“First, some bubbles,” she began her list with, squeezing the bottle of blue soap into the water. “Next, a rubber ducky for Jesus Christ Superstar,” she added, dropping in the toy and splashing John slightly. Her nicknames are getting weirder, he thought. “And finally, the looney tunes.” For that, she revealed her brown-colored, sticker-adorned, Zune. With it then hooked up to Selina’s bathroom speakers, Harley hit play on one of her favorites: Tiny Tim’s Tip Toe Through the Tulips.

As John sat on a giant bathtub, watching a naked dream girl dance to Tip Toe Through the Tulips like it was a bouncy techno dance song, John began to believe he had somehow ended up in a David Lynch movie. Things would get back to the familiar variety of weird, the sexy but painful kind, as soon as Harley said the tub was full enough.

“Cannonball!” She screamed as loudly as she could. John braced himself and prepared for the worst. Instead, Harley just daintily put her foot into the water. “What?” she said down to him as he looked up. “I’m not crazy.” She said, amused with John’s reaction. From there, the bath proceeded as normal. As normal as a bath with a five-inch tall man can be.

Harley was surprisingly gentle with John’s cleaning. Rather than dunking him underwater, she just cupped her other hand and gently trickled some water over him. Rather than roughly scouring him with soap, she just lathered up her fingers and massaged him. As soon as he was clean, Harley quietly and gently placed him on the rubber ducky; to sit and wait, where he was free to watch her bathe and relax.

John was seeing a new side of her. A gentler, compassionate side. He figured baths just must really calm her down. He was wrong, of course. Harley was just unpredictable, intentionally or otherwise. At that point in their relationship, there was nothing more unpredictable she could have done than be gentle and caring. Even the way she was washing herself, with just a hint of sensuality, was different. It was smoother, gentler. She took her time; she appreciated her curves. Harley lifted her breasts to hug them to her chest while she lathered them. When they were released, the impact on the water was not enough to rock John off his ducky. Certainly not enough to break his stare. He enjoyed watching every bubble slide off her and reveal more of her lovely, pale, skin.

Now, remember that shoe that was mentioned earlier? It dropped.

“Sweeties, mama’s home!” an unfamiliar voice rang out into the bedroom. John could see Harley tense up. “Is someone in my bathroom?” that same voice inquired. No doubt someone was going to be coming in soon. Knowing this, Harley acted to hide John. She hid him in what she felt was the most logical place: her arm pit. Barely two droplets of water came off John before he was shoved against Harley’s armpit, shortly before her arm came down to hide, and pin, him there.

“Harley? What are you d-“ Selina’s concentration broke when she realized she was listening to Living in the Sunshine. It not being the most important transgression, she refocused. “What are you doing?” she asked. John wasn’t privy to any of their conversation, of course. Selina, or rather Catwoman considering she was dressed for the part, stood in the doorway, arms crossed under her deep and impressive cleavage.

“I’m drafting the Declaration of Independence,” Harley said in her best 1700s voice. “I think it’s time that we, as Americans, become the masters of our domain. We must forge our own path, free of the tyranny of King George,” she delivered with an abundance of sarcasm. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking a bath!”

Selina sighed. She could already tell it was going to be a dance with her. “I mean why are you in my bathtub?”

“Becaaaause,” Harley started, matching Catwoman’s frustrated tone, “the last time I tried to have a bath in my glass shower cage, you all got mad at me.”

“You flooded the apartment!”

“See? See? Right there. You’re mad. So, y’know, you’re welcome. You’re welcome I was so considerate and chose to take a bath here,” Harley smugly replied, doing what she does best and flipping things back on people.

Catwoman rubbed the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes to force back the headache. When she looked back up, she noticed the bottle Harley brought. “Is that the dish soap?” she correctly pointed out.

“You can’t have a bath without bubbles,” Harley plainly answered as if Catwoman was the crazy one.

“Wh-why, Harley? What weird thing happened in your childhood to make you this way?”

“What way?”

Realizing she was getting sucked into Harley’s crazy, Catwoman pulled out. “Never mind. Hurry up; Dick and I need to take a bath,” she added, unable to stop the slip of the tongue.

“Who’s Dick,” Harley asked with piqued interest. “Oh my Glob, are you dating Dick Van Dyke?!”

Catwoman acted quickly but stumbled in her coverup. “Dick is my…vibrator!” Worried saying his name so much would prompt him to squirm his way up her suit, Catwoman did the unthinkable and pulled her zipper up over her breasts.

“You shouldn’t take vibrators into the bath, Selina,” Harley lectured.

“Just hurry up, you goofy clown!” She shouted almost loud enough for John to understand.

“Hey!” Harley snapped back, clearly offended. “I’m a Daffy clown, not a Goofy clown. You’re despicable,” she added with a spot-on Daffy Duck voice.

Catwoman took a deep breath and counted to ten, trying to de-escalate from Ivy-levels of anger. “I’m going to be in my room. You…you finish up.”

As Catwoman turned, closing the door, Harley replied by yelling “Aye aye, el Cappy-tan!” complete with salute – with the arm that was holding John. As soon as she saluted, he fell right into the water with a plop.

“What was that?” Catwoman asked, halfway from closing the door.

“I farted,” Harley answered flatly and immediately. Not wanting to hear, and possibly smell, more, Catwoman slammed the door shut and took her frustrations out on Dick.

As he resurfaced, John was scooped up by Harley and dropped back onto the rubber duck.

“That was a close one,” Harley sighed.

“Who was that? Was that Poison Ivy?” John asked, filled with anxiety.

“She’s just someone who’s not as fun as me,” Harley answered with a smirk. “Now, let’s play Battleship! Depth charge!” Harley announced immediately after starting the game, dropping the dish soap bottle into the bath, and causing a huge wave that knocked John off his ill-prepared duck. John figured the gentle and compassionate version was gone. He was right back to being miserable.

But things for John were going to get a whole lot worse.

“Bwa! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!” Harley bellowed, her laugh carrying throughout the apartment. She was having a grand ol’ time. Sitting on the couch, in a t-shirt and undies, eating junk food, and watching a Three Stooges marathon with her little buddy John. John, conversely, was not having a good time.

John had done all he could to convince Harley not to bring him out into the living room for anything. He was still terrified of being spotted by someone who may kill him on the spot – rather than over the course of several days through careless actions, like he assumed Harley was going to end up doing. It had been a fruitless effort, of course. Any objection he had was dismissed as him being a “negative Nelly” or a “party pooper Pat” or a “downer Duke of Deutschland, Danford Duskwallow III.” He felt the last one was a little verbose.

So, there he was, six hours deep into the Three Stooges, with no means of escape. He sat, as he usually did, in Harley’s cleavage. At the very least he had managed to wriggle his way out of the tight confines of being sandwiched between her breasts. He found himself instead hanging onto the lowest point of her shirt’s deep V neckline. He hung inside the shirt, with his arms over the edge, keeping him from slipping down. Even so, with how tight her tee-shirt was, he was nevertheless pressed up against her soft, crushing, mounds.

“Ah!” he heard Harley belt for the 100th time. “Did you see that Joey Joe Joe Shabadoo? Moe hit him on the head with a giant mallet!” His answer didn’t matter, so he didn’t give one. He just hung there, enduring another shower of crumbs from her mouth as she let out another obnoxious string of obnoxious laughter.

The defeated man watched the crumbs slip down her shirt and tumble down toward her lap. She was wearing only a pair of panties, showing off those vast, creamy, thighs. He studied them as the TV cast flickering lights and shadows upon them. He remembered how much he lusted after them. How he fantasized about kissing her softly up and down her thighs, inching ever closer to her radiating heat. He wanted to lick chocolate sauce off them. He wanted to thrust between her thigh gap and explode all over them. He still found them arousing, but now he didn’t want to be gentle. John imagined being rough with the goofy giantess.

John wanted to throw her up against the shower door and hate fuck her. He wanted to make her pain his pleasure. He imagined squeezing her thighs so tight that his red handprints would last hours on her white skin. He desired to fuck and spank her ass so mercilessly that she wouldn’t be able to sit on anything, or anyone, for days. John wanted to hate fuck the shit out of her.

A glare was cast upward at Harley as yet another series of laughs came from those lips he’d managed to escape from days prior. Her boisterous laughing did several things to him. First, it was loud. That’s about it, John just found it obnoxious and loud. Secondly, it caused her tits to shake violently. With every ha belted out of her cake-filled mouth, her jugs wobbled and bounced. John had gotten pretty good at maintaining balance when he was on her bouncing chest. That didn’t mean he enjoyed it. Finally, it sent more crumbs down onto her chest. When a crumb came falling down, launched off her bouncy breast, and knocked into his face, he had reached his breaking point.

“God dammit! Harleen!” He called up at her. He repeated himself several times until finally he yelled between one of her bouts of laughter. Finally noticing him, Harley looked down at her generous boobs and her ungracious guest.

“Hm? What’s up, Jaybles? Talk fast, there are no commercial breaks so you’re interrupting valuable joke time,” she said, all the while finishing off the bite of birthday cake she took when he started yelling.

“Harleen! I need you to listen! I need-“

“Oh! I know what you need!” she interrupted. In the past, he might have thought she meant what he hoped she meant. That she had somehow realized her mistake. He knew better. He knew life was worse. Sure enough, he was proven right when Harley reached over to the can of whipped cream. “You need some whipped cream! Now, open wide!”

John begged her to stop, kept it as simple as just shouting ‘no’ over and over, but Harley was dead set on her plan. From the top of her cleavage, all the way to the bottom where John was, she ejected a cooling line of fresh whipped cream. There was nowhere he could go. Her shirt was too tight to drop down to safety. So, instead, the cream enveloped him.

He barely had the mental capacity to be panicked anymore. All he was, was angry and determined. With that angry determination, he climbed. Through all that cream, he dug his way through and up. It wasn’t easy, moving against not only the cream, but also climbing her perfectly smooth mountains. While he struggled, Harley just kept watching TV, laughing. That laughing just made her chest move more, often knocking John backwards. But he wasn’t going to give up. What would have once been an arousing dream of his, was now a harrowing nightmare.

When finally he had come to the top of her cleavage, sitting just above the cream, he yelled up at Harley again. What’s more, he yelled louder than he had ever yelled before. Harley noticed immediately.

“Whoa there, Jazzman,” she said. “Indoor voices, please. Now, what’s wrong, playa?”

“Wh-what’s wrong? What’s wrong?! You could have buried me alive in that whipped cream stunt! But you know what, I’m not surprised. It’s just another in a long line of ways that you’ve come close to killing me!” John started ranting, standing on her chest, as he got things off his chest.

“Whoa now, I never-“ Harley began to defend herself, but it was time for John to interrupt her.

“Bullshit you never! I’ve been squeezed and crushed under every part of your stupidly hot body because you’re too stupid to realize that you’re fucking squeezing and crushing me!” Perhaps he was getting a little mean. In his defense, he had been through hell and had exercised the patience of a saint throughout. “And every time I try to get free, it somehow just turns you on and you start rubbing one out, while I suffer!”

“You…think I’m hot?” Harley asked, clearly missing the point.

“That’s not the point!” he shouted angrily. “You were supposed to rescue me! You were supposed to take me away from here and maybe, just maybe, help me grow big again!”

“Well, I mean, I’ve helped you grow big plenty of times,” Harley suggestively said.

“GOD DAMMIT LISTEN TO ME!” John was turning as red as a cherry, and in his blinding rage he fell backward into the whipped cream. As he struggled to get back out, all he could hear was the laughter of his tormentor. Rather than let him continue sliding and sinking, she decided to pluck him from his misery and lift him up to her face. He was clearly not amused by her laughter after all he said, after all she did.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Harley apologized, getting the last of her giggling out before muting the TV. When her face fell back on John, she looked different to him. She looked genuinely compassionate. What’s more, she looked remorseful.

“I’m…sorry, really I am,” she began to apologize again. Not for knocking him into her cleavage and laughing about it, but for everything. “I…I know I haven’t been the savior you hoped for. I get distracted easily. I forget things. Even important things. Important people. Important people…like you.” John started to feel himself calm down amazingly fast. “It’s just…if I’m being honest? I liked having you around. Everyone else around here, they’re my friends, sure, but…are they reallly? They never want to hang out, they never laugh at my jokes. Worst of all, they just…leave. As soon as I get carried away, which is often, they just leave the room rather than deal with me.” John began to see more and more sadness and remorse on her face. He started to see her eyes well up. “And for once, I had someone who couldn’t, y’know…run away. And I know that’s terrible. I know you want to run away because it’s dangerous here. And I shouldn’t have kept you here like this without asking you. But I knew, I knew, that if given the choice…you’d leave. I mean…sometimes…I wish I could leave me too.” When he saw that single tear roll down her cheek, and heard that first sniffle, John forgot all about the days of humiliation, suffering, and confusing pleasure.

“Look, Harleen, I’m sorry I-“

“No! No,” Harley stopped him. “You can’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just amazed you put up with me for this long,” she said, trying to laugh a little to stop herself from crying a lot.

“It…it wasn’t all bad,” John tried to spin. “I mean, if I had to be bound to a big, blonde, bodacious babe, I’m glad it was you,” he said, trying to be a little humorous, as he definitely knew Harley liked humor.

“R-really?” Harley asked, smiling. John nodded. “Do you think that, when this is all over, we could still hang out? Just, y’know, sometimes?”

“I’d like that,” he honestly said. “How’s dinner sound?”

“Chuck-E-Cheese?” Harley beamed.

“I was thinking something more…adult,” he suggested. “Maybe…Dave & Buster’s?” For once, John and Harley shared a smile.

“It’s a date.” With her tears gone, Harley gave a determined nod. “Alright, now, let’s take care of you. First, we need to get you cleaned up.”

John assumed this would mean getting put under the faucet, but as Harley’s mouth opened, he remembered better. First came his top half, and for once Harley was being very gentle with him. Despite it being how they first met, and how terrifying it had been then, he was enjoying it under the new context. His bottom half was treated next, and she was spending far more time there than the top half. When he looked up at her baby blue eyes, and saw her wink, he realized what she was doing.

Gently Harley spun him around, so he was looking down at her creamy chest, topped with whipped cream. She wasn’t as oblivious as he thought. Harley definitely knew how much he liked her tits. When they weren’t crushing him. As she gently sucked on him, she began to play with her nipples through her shirt. John watched her nipples grow against the tight stretch of the fabric. All the while her tongue lapped at him between his legs. He was experiencing pleasures he didn’t think possible. He just wished he got to experience them longer. Between the emotional and physical caressing, he didn’t last long, and shot a built-up load directly onto her tongue. John slumped forward, nearly passing out until Harley put a boop of whipped cream on his face.

Pulled free, Harley gave his face a big, soft, gentle, kiss. Her lips and a quick peek of her tongue removed the whipped cream she had playfully put on his face. “Mmm. Creamy,” she suggestively said. John was in heaven. He wanted to thank her, but Harley stopped him before more than a single syllable got out. “I know, I know. I’m awesome. Now come on, let’s go confront Ivy!”

Harley began marching toward the greenhouse, and as John got his senses back, he raised and objection. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Shouldn’t we just leave? Go to the police? Hell, we can go back to my apartment if we need to.”

“Don’t worry, John, I know how to handle Ivy. You’re in good hands,” Harley reassured him. John wouldn’t have time to raise another objection, as they had already arrived at the greenhouse. Quite loudly in fact. Harley swung open the door and bellowed out, “Poison Martha Ivy!”

Ivy was working diligently with her lab equipment when Harley arrived, noisily. She was used to it, so she wasn’t even surprised when it happened. Thus, rather than give a confused and shocked reaction, she just said, “For the last time, my middle name is not Martha. My real name isn’t even Poison Ivy.” Ivy turned around and saw Harley, in a state of undress, with half melted whipped cream on her tits, holding a five-inch tall man, marching over. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s going on?”

“We need to talk!” Harley firmly stated, standing in front of her only slightly less busty friend and roommate.

“…about what? The whipped cream on your breasts?” Ivy asked, hoping she got it in one.

To clarify, Harley firmly, while being mindful of his safety, put John down onto the table near Ivy. Harley stood straight, back arched, chest out, chin up, and pointed directly at John. In typical Harley fashion, her attempts at clarification just made things more confusing.

“…What?” was all Ivy could ask.

“I think you mean ‘whom’!”

“Okay. Whom?”

“Him! That’s whom!” Harley stopped to correct course. “Wait, that doesn’t sound right. Let me try again. I think you mean ‘who’!”

“Okaaay,” Ivy said again, her genuine confusion at least keeping any annoyance-based anger at bay. “Who?”

“Him! That’s who!”

“Who’s he?”

“John!”

“John who?”

“Not John Woo,” Harley corrected. “Just John!”

“I- Who is John?”

“He is!” Harley re-stated, again pointing at John.

“Dammit, Harl, I’m not going to play Who’s on First with you again,” Ivy said, exasperated. “Why is this shrunken man, named John, on my table, and why is he so important?”

“You don’t remember him?” Harley asked, surprised.

“That’s been established,” Ivy answered, exhausted.

“This is John, the shrunken human being you pulled out of you vagina and threw at me to eat, several nights ago.” Harley’s clarification seemed to have worked, and after a few moments of searching her memory, Ivy’s eyes went wide.

“You kept him? Why?”

“To prove a point.”

“What point?”

“To prove I’m not just some ditzy, dumb, blonde…John!” Harley had begun to answer Ivy, but at the last second looked straight down at the shrunken man who seemed just as confused as Ivy in that moment.

“Wait, what?” John reacted.

“I hate to agree with a man, but yes - what?” Ivy repeated.

“I may be ditzy, I may be blonde, I may be busty, I may be hot, I may be-“ Harley was rambling off positive descriptors before Ivy stopped her and told her to get to the point. “The point is, I’m not dumb, Johnny boy!”

John was no less in the dark after hearing all that. If anything, he was more confused. It was a terrifying kind of confusion, though. The kind where he wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but the tone of the room told him it wouldn’t be good. Harley continued her rant as his eyes darted between her and Ivy.

“You’ve been trying to manipulate me from minute one, buster. Doing anything you could to convince me to let you go,” Harley explained.

“You were going to eat me!” John shouted, confident that the idea of his survival necessitated any action.

“Yea I was, but your games didn’t stop there. You didn’t just want freedom, you wanted me to turn on my girl Ivy here. And there would have been more, I know it. I can read you like a book, mister. I have several doctorates in the field of psychology, you twit! I could taste the sleaze on you the second I put you in my mouth.” Harley broke for a moment to have an open thought. “Hm, maybe that’s why I spat you out in the first place.”

While John was looking more and more terrified, Ivy’s smile was only growing more. She loved watching her girl put men in their place. Especially men who underestimated Harley. Ivy decided to stay out of it and just enjoy the show.

“I’ve been dealing with jag offs like you all my life. You think that just because I have big knockers that I don’t have the brains to match. I may have slept with all my professors in college to get an A, but I knew the material. I could have passed on my own, flying colors, but I really like fucking. What’s more, I like fucking with people. That’s why I filmed all my ‘tutoring sessions’. After graduation, I gave all their wives and mistresses a copy. Hell, even managed to convince some of the scorned ladies that sleeping with me would be great payback,” Harley added with a curt laugh. “Filmed those too. Remind me to show you sometime, Red,” she said to Ivy. “The point is, I’ve been dealing with manipulative jerks like you for a long time, and I learned that it was more fun to manipulate them back rather than just immediately call them out.” Harley scoffed, hands on her hips. “I mean, did you really think you could fool the Harley Quinn?”

John’s eyes went wide. “Wait, you’re Harley Quinn?!” To his credit, John only knew her as Harleen Quinzel. To his credit, he’d never seen her suit – though he had been inside it. However, she’s also a smoking hot blonde with twin tails who associates with Poison Ivy and lives in Gotham City. So, really, that oversight is on him.

“No duuuuuh!” Harley mocked, getting right up in John’s face and knocking him back. “Now who’s the idiot?”

“So…so all this time? You’ve just been…screwing with me?” John asked as he got back up.

“Look at that, you’re catching on. I may be a little clumsy and absentminded sometimes, but that’s just for laughs. You think all those ‘sexy accidents’ were really accidents?” Judging by John’s face, he did. Harley had to laugh. “Maybe one or two might be coincidence but come on! How many times can one man find himself being ‘accidentally’ inserted into my asshole before he catches on?” Harley explained, laughing.

“Wait, how many times was he inserted into your asshole?” Ivy interrupted.

“Don’t interrupt, Red,” Harley casually scolded.

“Then, did you know? Did you always know that I was an actual human being, not some synthetic clone or whatever?” John inquired further.

“That’s a bingo!” Harley proudly answered. “Of course, I knew. Ivy would never lie to me. Unlike some people,” she said to John. “And to answer that burning question in your head: no. I don’t care that you, or any of the other tinies are shrunken people. Real people. In fact, I think it’s really, really, hot. If you were just lab grown,” Harley paused to laugh at the pun, “then it wouldn’t be half as fun.”

Ivy had heard enough and had to interject again. “Wait, Harley. Are you telling me that you’ve been stringing him along all this time? Giving him false hope, finding ways to satisfy your pleasure while inflicting pain on him, and somehow keeping him in the dark of your true intentions?”

“Right-a-rooney!” Harley comically answered, despite the grim implications.

“That…is so…freakin’ hot!” Ivy beamed. No longer able to contain herself, she threw her arms around her blonde lover and gave her a big kiss on the cheek, leaving a red kiss mark.

“Aw, shucks,” Harley said, blushing.

“So, what’s your end game here? What are you planning on doing with him now?” Ivy asked, stepping back again to let Harley do her thing – while also swiping the cream that got on her green tits during the embrace, and sucking her fingers clean.

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do with him. I’m gonna smash him with my giant mallet!” Harley said directly to John.

“Harley, wait,” Ivy said.

“I know, I know. Any mallet I own would be giant to him. But I mean the mallet that’s giant to me. It’s gonna be humongous to him,” Harley said with glee.

“No, I mean, why don’t we have some fun with him instead?” Ivy suggested. “Together.” Ivy took some more whipped cream off Harley’s chest and sucking her fingers clean.

“See, Red, this is why I like ya. Always thinking with the ol’ hot box!” Harley complimented.

“Well I don’t think that’s true,” Ivy said to the implication of her overly sexual decision making. “Anyway, he’s your project, so what should we do with him?”

“How about…a game of Wishbone!” Harley suggested, bouncing lightly.

“Oh, I don’t know, Harl. That’s a little too dangerous,” Ivy said with uncertainty.

“Pleeeeease! I worked really hard on him, Red. I deserve a treat!”

“Oh alright,” Ivy surrendered quickly. “We’ll play Wishbone.”

“Yay!” Harley cheered. John had no time to figure out what kind of game Wishbone was. As soon as Ivy gave the go-ahead, Harley picked him up and dunked him into the whipped cream on her tits. Once he was fully coated, Harley gave him one last wink and air kiss before popping his torso into her mouth. Not a single dollop of cream was kicked off his legs before Ivy came in and took the rest of John into her mouth. After Ivy and Harley started a countdown from 3 with their fingers, the game began.

Immediately after 1, Ivy and Harley began to suck on John. Hard. He thought his eyes would come out, or he’d be pulled in half. The name of the game was to suck the tiny into one’s mouth and swallow him before the other person could get him back. Harley had better sucking strength, so John went into her mouth first. However, Ivy’s tongue was more dexterous, so she got him back easily. Another strategy either used was trying to distract the other with sexual groping.

Harley knew how to knead Ivy’s breasts like a seasoned pro. Afterall, she was. This would cause Ivy to lose focus and moan heavily, relaxing her tongue’s grip and letting Harley suck him back into her mouth. Ivy wasn’t without her tricks, however. She knew how much Harley liked to have her ass played with and wasn’t above using that knowledge to her advantage. From simple squeezes, to spanking, to going knuckle deep inside her butt, Ivy did it all to keep Harley off her game.

By the end, Harley simply wanted it more, and managed to suck John into her mouth. However, she did so with such force that he slammed immediately into the back of her throat and fell down at a weird angle. Ivy pulled back when she felt Harley coughing.

“Oh shit! Harley!” Ivy exclaimed. Two hacking coughs later, and John came flying back out, landing directly on Ivy’s left breast. “Lovely,” she said, bemused. Ivy grabbed John, who was also coughing up all the spit he’d swallowed, by his ankle and held him up like the disgusting item she saw him as. Ivy continued to watch Harley cough, happy to see she was at least recovering. “This is why I don’t like Wishbone, Harl!”

“Best two out of three?” Harley said between coughs.

Ivy examined the dangling John and smirked. “I got a better idea. It’d be a shame to just kill something you worked so hard on. Why don’t you keep him?” Ivy suggested.

“What? Like a pet?” Harley answered, recovered from the poorly conceived game.

“More like a toy.”

“Why would I want a piece of shit like him as a toy?”

“Exactly.” Ivy smiled wickedly. After a few beats, Harley caught her meaning and shared in that smirk.

“Well, John,” Harley said to the confused, betrayed, and terrified ex-lawyer and future sex toy, “looks like your silver tongue has earned you a stay of execution and landed you in solitary confinement. I trust you’ll keep putting that tongue to good use, though.” John had no idea what she had planned, but he’d learn soon enough.

Ivy turned him right-side up and stood him upright on her leafy chair’s seat. She wouldn’t let him stand on his own, though. She kept one set of fingers pinched around his ankles, and another around his waist, pinning his arms down. Meanwhile, John watched as Harley sexily pulled down her panties and kicked them off her ankle. He started struggling in earnest, but it was no use.

“How many tinies have gone up your butt, Harl?” Ivy asked as John panicked and pleaded to deaf ears.

“Not nearly enough, Red,” Harley said as she stood with her back to them. Her hands reached back and pulled apart her cheeks. “Not nearly enough.” With those final words, Harley began to slowly lower herself toward John.

“No! No, please! I’m sorry, please don’t do this! I can’t go back up there! Let me go, please! I don’t- I don’t want to! NO!” John cried just before Harley’s asshole pressed down on his head and started to slowly open to accept him. Little by little Harley sat down on him. Ivy moved her fingers when appropriate to make room, while keeping John stiff and upright. She didn’t want him to accidentally break in the process.

Harley purred and bit her lip as she silenced the amateur manipulator with her enviable rear end. A second after Ivy removed her hands, Harley sat down onto the chair, and John was inside her – struggling with a newfound level of panic and desperation. Harley had a tiny orgasm from that alone. When she stood back up, Ivy saw that John’s feet were still kicking about outside of her asshole. The green woman reached up to push him in the rest of the way, but Harley stopped her.

“Leave him. I find that when you leave a little sticking out, they start to believe they can get themselves out,” Harley explained. “Keeps them hopeful. Keeps them moving,” she purred.

“It seems you have a lot to teach me about the utility and use of shrunken men,” Ivy admitted, standing up and throwing her arms around Harley’s waist. “Which reminds me. I have something I need to talk to you about.”

“What’s up, doc?” Harley asked while idly clenching her ass, forcing John to suffer further.

Ivy reconsidered. “Actually, it may be better if you hear it from Selina, instead. She has a business proposition.”

“Ooo, intrigue,” Harley happily replied. Harley pursed her lips and looked away for a moment. When her eyes came back to meet Ivy’s, she asked her a favor. “Do you think, maybe, you’d like to…watch the Three Stooges with me?”

Ivy smiled warmly. “Nothing would make me happier, Harley.” Her blonde lover lit up like a Christmas tree. “If you promise to share some more of that whipped cream with me,” Ivy joked.

“Ab-so-lutely!” Harley surprised Ivy by suddenly grabbing her head and shoving her face down into her cleavage, rubbing what was left of the whipped cream onto her shocked, green, face.

“Harley!” Ivy yelled after she broke free of the delicious grasp. Harley was already running toward the door. Smiling, Ivy yelled after her. “You’re going to get such a spanking, you bad girl!”

“Oh no!” Harley said with faux concern. “John will hate that!”

From then on, for the rest of his days, numbered though they were, John was nothing more than Harley Quinn’s buttplug.