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.