Green Gotham

The week flew by in a frenetic rhythm for Floravita. Alex had finally completed his financial acrobatics, assembling the fifty billion Zatanna demanded in the form of crypto keys, securely packed into a one-time encrypted device. He was already speeding toward the Theater of Mysteries, leaving behind Gotham's glowing skyscrapers and greenery.

Back at the base, an air of relaxation prevailed… with a touch of surrealism. In the sprawling spa complex Pamela had created—a true oasis of warm pools filled with bioluminescent water, surrounded by exotic plants exuding calming scents—three figures lounged. Harley, Pamela, and Kara basked in the warmth and tranquility after a week packed with magic lessons (for Harley), financial storms (for everyone), and the usual grind of managing a utopia.

The silence was broken only by the soft creak of a door and the sound of near-silent footsteps. From the steam emerged a figure in a sleek black swimsuit, reminiscent of a panther's hide. Selina Kyle, Catwoman, tossed a light silk robe onto a nearby chaise, revealing a flawless physique. Her green eyes, with their vertical pupils, scanned the luxurious space with curiosity.

"Well, well," her voice purred, low and laced with genuine admiration. "Pamela, I thought you just planted flowers. But this… you've built a paradise lagoon. Gotham doesn't smell like fear and gasoline anymore—it smells like jasmine and money. I like it. A lot."

She slid into the water like a shadow, swimming toward Pamela. The water hugged her form, accentuating every curve. Selina glided close to the red-haired goddess of plants, her arms slipping through the water to wrap around Pamela from behind—one hand resting on her flat stomach, the other confidently pressing against Pamela's chest, fingers lightly squeezing firm flesh. Selina's lips neared her ear.

"Now tell me, Red," Catwoman's whisper was playful but insistent, "who is he? That guy… Alex. I saw his selfie with you," a hint of irony flickered in her tone. "Cute in photos, but… what's he really like? The man who tamed you, Harley… and, from the looks of it, even Supergirl?" She nodded toward Kara, who watched them with a relaxed expression.

Pamela didn't frown but arched a brow, her lips curling into a playful yet cautionary smile. She didn't pull away; instead, she leaned back into Selina, feeling her feline grace. "Dear Selina," her voice was like the rustle of poison ivy, "you know the jungle rule: a tasty find is guarded. Especially if it's mine. Alex is ours. Not prey for your hunt. Go play with your brooding bat."

Selina laughed, her fingers playfully pinching Pamela's side. "Sounds intriguing. But is it so bad to have… a backup plan?"

"For you? Maybe. For us? Unnecessary." Pamela slipped from her grasp like an eel. "His place is here. Yours… is out there on the rooftops, with your moping knight."

Selina laughed again—bright and carefree—but let Pamela go, drifting back, gracefully kicking her legs. "My Dark Knight…" she drawled, "…he's not coming out to play. At all. After your total takeover of the city and whatever happened to the villains… he's vanished. The Bat-Signal's gathering dust. Not a whisper, not a trace. It's gotten boring."

Harley, splashing nearby and listening with wide eyes, perked up. "Oh! Oh! First, Alex is super-duper-mega-ultra awesome! Smart, cunning, generous—he bought me magic! And we're not sharing!" She stuck out her tongue at Selina. "Second… you should check on Batsy! Seriously! Maybe he's depressed 'cause nobody needs him? The city's blooming, villains are gone (well, mostly), Power Girl and plants are patrolling… Then you show up! All… catty, flexible, with claws!" Harley wiggled her fingers playfully. "He'll definitely perk up for you! And then… bam! You get a pocket-sized Batman! Always on hand, in a great mood… you get the drift!"

Selina paused, floating on her back. Her green eyes stared thoughtfully at the ceiling, a slow, sly smile spreading across her lips. "Hmm… Pocket-sized Batman…" she mused. "Not a bad plan, kiddo. Bold. I like it."

Then she flipped like a torpedo and swam to Kara, who sat on an underwater bench, lost in thought, her powerful shoulders and chest visible above the water. Selina, unfazed, swam close and… repeated her move. Her hands slid under the water, settling on Kara's chest, fingers appraisingly squeezing her firm muscles.

"And you're so quiet, Golden Girl," Selina whispered, her lips near Kara's ear. "Such strength… such power…" She squeezed again. "Who do these babies make happy? Or are they just for scaring enemies?"

Kara slowly turned her head. Her blue eyes, usually brimming with confidence or fury, were… empty. She didn't push Selina away, but her gaze was icy. "Babies?" her voice was flat, metallic. "They… make no one happy. When you're strong enough to crush a mountain with a flick…" She glanced at her hands. "…in a moment of passion…" Something dark, almost frightened, flickered in her eyes. "…I'd probably… break someone. Kill them. No, Selina. Pleasure isn't for people like me."

The air in the spa thickened. Even Harley quieted, sensing the gravity. Pamela watched with a scientist's curiosity. Selina eased her hands back, her playfulness fading.

Then Harley swam over. Not with her usual clownish energy, but with the focus of a trained psychologist rediscovering her craft. She glided close to Kara, from the side. Her hand slipped under the water… and settled between Kara's legs. Harley's fingers, gentle but sure, began slow, smooth circles over Kara's mound, above her most sensitive spot, not penetrating but stimulating her clitoris through the swimsuit's fabric.

"You don't get what pleasure's about, Kara," Harley said, her voice unusually soft, persuasive, devoid of her usual antics. She looked straight into Kara's eyes. "An orgasm… it's not about someone sticking something in you. Not even about sticking anything at all. It's about… chemistry. Stimulation. The burst of dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin in your prefrontal cortex and limbic system." Her fingers kept their precise, almost clinical rhythm. "You just need to find what you like. Your secret trigger. Your… fetish. The thing that lights up your brain, and your body… it'll follow."

An illusion flickered above the water, right in front of Kara's face. Crafted by Harley's newfound gift, it wasn't loud or garish. It showed a crowd on a beach, all staring at Kara. Their eyes locked onto her.

"You like being watched?" Harley asked, her fingers pressing slightly harder. "Feeling those eyes? Being the center?"

Kara tensed, her breathing quickening, but her eyes showed more strain than arousal. The illusion shifted. Now it was an orgy: tangled bodies, moans, raw, primal passion.

"Maybe you want… this?" Harley asked, watching her reaction.

"No!" Kara snapped, almost repulsed, trying to pull away, but Harley's hand held her thigh under the water.

The illusion reshaped. The air thickened with the scent of ozone, stone, and raw power. Now it was… Doomsday. Not just massive, but overwhelming. Every muscle under his cracked, gray-brown skin bulged like stone. Bone spikes on his shoulders and elbows gleamed like spears. He loomed over an illusory Kara, pinned to cracked earth. Her white suit was torn to shreds, exposing radiant skin. One monstrous hand, the size of her torso, gripped her throat—not choking, but asserting absolute dominance, a thumb resting on her jugular, feeling her pulse. His small, deep-set eyes burned with inhuman, predatory intellect and… ravenous, undeniable lust. His breathing was heavy, rasping like an avalanche, and hot—Kara felt its illusory heat sear her skin. He was raw, unstoppable force, ancient evil, and… absolute domination. His hips pressed against her legs, a massive, throbbing member—inhuman in size and shape, knotted with veins and ridges—pressed against her lower abdomen, promising an unthinkable invasion. He didn't just want her—he meant to claim her, to break her with his weight, power, and very essence.

Kara froze. Her usually porcelain face flushed a deep, scarlet arousal that spread to her neck and chest. Sweat beaded on her forehead and upper lip. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating into black voids, swirling with a wild mix of defiance, chilling fear, and overwhelming excitement. Her lips parted in a silent moan, corners wet with saliva. Her body trembled under the water, then tensed like a steel spring. Harley felt Kara's clitoris swell and harden under her fingers, her thighs parting wider involuntarily.

The illusion moved. Doomsday didn't just loom—he acted. His free, massive hand slid down her thigh, leaving a burning sensation of stone against skin, even in the illusion. His fingers dug into her hips with force that could snap steel, but in the vision, it wasn't painful—it was commanding, inevitable. He spread her legs wider, his knee roughly pressing between her thighs. The illusory, monstrous member found its mark—not just pressing but asserting itself at her entrance, feeling like a molten rod. Then came a thrust—slow, relentless, terrifyingly real in its crushing power. Kara felt it enter her, stretching, filling impossibly, shattering every internal barrier with primal force. She felt every ridge, every vein, the searing fullness and unstoppable pressure radiating from her core.

"A-A-ARGH!" Not a scream but a guttural, rasping roar of animal agony and unbelievable release tore from Kara's throat. Her face blazed, veins bulging on her neck. Her body arched unnaturally, back lifting off the bench. Her powerful thighs and abdomen convulsed in uncontrollable, almost seizure-like spasms, churning the water around her like a boiling cauldron. Crack!—the marble lining beneath her splintered. Her hands gripped the pool's edge with desperate strength, leaving dents in the durable composite. Her eyes rolled back, showing whites, her face locked in a grimace of shattering ecstasy mixed with primal terror and total loss of control. She collapsed back, breathing heavily, raggedly, her body trembling as if fevered, her face still flushed crimson.

Harley slowly withdrew her hand. The Doomsday illusion dissolved. A satisfied smile spread across her face, like a master solving a complex puzzle.

"See?" she whispered. "You were just looking in the wrong place."

The silence hung thick as the steam. Pamela watched Kara with scientific interest tinged with faint distaste. Selina Kyle, witnessing it all, was… drenched. Not just from the water. Her green eyes blazed, her breathing uneven. She exhaled slowly, licking her lips. "Well… that was…" she searched for the word, "…fucking hot."

Pamela, still eyeing the exhausted, trembling Kara, nodded, her voice dry but carrying odd approval. "Indeed… Effective."

Later, wrapped in fluffy robes and sipping cool cocktails (Harley's with a bright umbrella, the others with Pamela's exotic, non-alcoholic blends), Selina suddenly slapped her forehead. "Oh, damn, almost forgot!" she exclaimed, pulling a slim, waterproof smartphone from her robe's pocket. "You heard about the latest OnlyFans scandal? There's this one… unique account. Called 'TrueFormCosplay.' The guy's a genius. I mean, he's not a guy—he's anyone."

She scrolled quickly and showed the screen. It displayed a nude "Wonder Woman"—a perfect replica of Diana Prince, from flowing black hair and chiseled features to her powerful physique, minus the armor. The pose was heroic yet provocative. The caption read: "The Power of Truth and Beauty. Exclusively for You."

"See?" Selina swiped down, revealing other posts: a flawless Zatanna in her stage outfit (minus the outfit), a gothic anime neko-girl, even a surreal Dalí-esque figure. "He does everyone. Perfect copies. Any heroine, any villain." She looked at the trio, her catlike eyes glinting with curiosity. "Everyone… except you three. No Pamela, no Harley, no Kara. That's weird. You know something? Got an exclusive deal? Or does this guy know messing with Floravita is dangerous?"

Harley and Pamela exchanged a glance, instant understanding flashing between them… and perfect sync. They turned to Selina, faces blank with feigned innocence.

"Huh?" Harley blinked, wide-eyed, the picture of purity. "OnlyFans? That's where rabbits in top hats make bank, right? Nope, never heard of this guy. Pam?"

"Not the slightest clue," Pamela sipped her cocktail, her green eyes cool and distant as tropical leaves.

Harley nodded vigorously, her pigtails bouncing.

Selina narrowed her eyes, studying them. The cat sensed a lie, but she had no proof. She shrugged, pocketing the phone. "Fine, fine. Just seemed odd. Talent like that… skipping Gotham's brightest ladies." She shot them a knowing look. "Well, thanks for the refreshing evening, ladies. And the pocket-Batman idea. I think I've got somewhere to be."

She sauntered toward the exit, her robe billowing like a cape. As the door closed, Harley and Pamela exchanged another glance. Kara, still faintly trembling, her face slowly returning to its normal hue, stared into space, grappling with the echoes of a terrifying and exhilarating discovery about herself. The world around her had grown more complex and dangerous, and now the threat wasn't just from enemies.