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Author's Chapter Notes:

[Lebsian, Sex, Insertion, Mouthplay, Breasts]

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.

Chapter End Notes:

Looks like John has escaped from Hell and entered Heaven. As he'll learn, Harley Quinn is anything but an angel, next time in Killer Klowns from Gotham City, Ch. 2: Adventures in Tiny Sitting!

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