Gotham Squeeze Part 5: Diana Prince and the Thighs of Truth
Note: this is the final part (Part 5) of a series I am now calling “Gotham Squeeze”, which began with Part 1: Selina Kyle and the Venus Thigh-Trap, and continued with Part 2: Barbara Gorden: the Lab-Bat, Part 3: The Quintessensual Subjugation of One Dr Harleen (Or the Art of Never Giving Up), and Part 4: Dick Grayson: Bird-Brained. I will look at getting them consolidated into one thread, but they can be read as standalones. In the meantime, enjoy.
***
Diana Prince stood half-naked in the Batcave, arms spread out, her gold armour open, while a nervous looking Commissioner Gorden fitted a wiretap to her bare chest. She suppressed an amused smirk as the older man tried to concentrate as he taped the wire to her pert breasts and goddess-flat abs.
“Don’t take too long down there, Jim. You might get wanderlust.”
The Commissioner’s face went the same bright red as Diana’s stylised combat boots. “I’m...I’m nearly finished….there…”
The embarrassed senior cop backed away, and Diana closed the breastplate on her traditional Amazonian armour, an heirloom passed down from her grandmother (she was half tempted to leave it open and watch him squirm a little longer, but his daughter Barbara was looking uncomfortable, and that just wasn’t a sisterly thing to do).
For this mission, she’d chosen to wear the historical military outfit of Themyscira, the main island of Amazonia which was her home, to make a point. The deranged pharmaceutical entrepreneur Dr Pamela Isley had been using orchids and snake venom from Diana’s homeland to perform deranged experiments and cause chaos in Gotham, without any appreciation of the sacred value of those seductive and martial arts, or the thigh grappling practices that derived from them. This is personal, bitch.
As Diana secured the clips which clasped the gold one-piece to her chest and abdomen, Bruce Wayne reentered the bat-cave, sweating profusely and covered in oil and grease. He and his butler Alfred had been preparing the Bat - his private aerial assault vehicle - for flight. He did a double take when he saw Diana in her gear - the torso armour left her arms and legs almost completely bare, save for the red snakeskin combat boots. In the pre-modern era, this was in line with how Amazons traditionally fought: limb-to-limb. Diana inwardly grinned despite herself - Bruce Wayne was still rakishly handsome, although years of crime fighting had aged him. Diana - who was 37 but looked a decade younger - generally had younger, and often more feminine, tastes these days, but the attention was still gratifying. I’m what a real woman looks like she thought. Not that 22 year old pixie geek in her lab coat.
“Let’s go through the plan again.” Barbara Gorden was speaking, probably to avoid having to watch both her father and her mentor drool over the UN representative. “Diana is wearing a wiretap under her armour…”
“Correct, and…” started the Commissioner, but Barbara waved him quiet.
“Shut up, Dad! This was my idea, so it's my operation.”
Diana admired the girl’s spark. She knew from the UN intelligence reports that Barbara had been through a lot when she had been Dr Isley’s prisoner, and she had just witnessed her boyfriend get stomped to death in a cage match on YouTube. All things considered she was doing well, she would make a great chief of police for Gotham one day. Barbara hobbled over to a blackboard, where she had outlined the plan. Wincing slightly, she pointed at the maze of connecting chalk lines with one crutch whilst leaning on the other.
“Diana will be inserted on the roof of the Gothcorp building, where Ivy Pharmaceuticals have their offices. Legal affidavits filed in the last hour suggest that the company has now acquired the entire building, and that Dr Isley...” The Batgirl swallowed hard. “Pamela has entered the building after the...the…”
She began to tear up. Diana walked over to her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s ok Barbara, we understand if you don’t…”
“..the illegal cage fight incident.” Said the young Gorden, her voice hardening. “Once inside, Diana will challenge Pamela, defeat her, and then force her to confess all of her crimes to the recording wiretap: that is, she used disproportionate force when subduing Selina Kyle in her “Venus Thigh-Trap” maneuver, that she kidnapped me and broke my legs without provocation after I had clearly submitted, that she murdered Dr Harleen Quinzel with her thighs, and that she killed Dick Grayson by foot stomp while participating in an illegal cage fight.”
“It’s a great plan.” nodded Diana, approvingly, enjoying how Barbara seemed to swell with feminine pride. “Worthy of an Amazon, even.” After so many years with the pen-pushers at the United Nations, it felt great to be back doing the work she had trained for in the Amazonian special forces. “I look forward to my part in executing it.”
“You need to be careful…” said Bruce, breaking the moment of sisterly triumph. Diana tried not to roll her eyes, but in truth she’d been waiting for this lecture from the seasoned crimefighter since he’s reluctantly summoned her. This was always the way, the women come up with a great plan, but now the angry old Bat needed to mansplain what was wrong with it. Diana raised an eyebrow, aware that this drew attention to her aquamarine eyes and blue-black hair, a gesture she had heard made her look insanely arrogant...and attractive.
“You shouldn't underestimate Pamela.” continued Bruce. “Some of the greatest heroes - Dick Grayson and Barbara here, for instance, criminals - Selina Kyle, and devious minds - Dr Quinzel, have already gone against Pamela and come back broken or dead. I’ll be standing by in the Bat just in case, of course, but…”
“Bruce.” Diana suggestively unclipped her ceremonial lasso from her utility belt, watching his eyes widen. “Barbara left out an important part of the plan. I’m not just going to defeat Pamela. Once I’ve forced her to confess her crimes, I’m going to put this round her freckled little neck and walk her out of the Gothcorp building like a dog on a leash. And then the whole world will see that she’s not some genius entrepreneur, or eco-Goddess, but a silly young lady who drank too much snake venom.”
“But we need…”
“What we need is to get on with it. Intelligence suggests there's some very unusual activity around the Gothcorps building, apparently the vegetation is acting strangely. I don’t know what Pamela is planning, but we need to put a stop to it. ” She held out a hand to Bruce Wayne, mockingly. “Shall we dance?”
***
Diana stood braced in the open rear door of the Bat, as the aerial assault vehicle circled the GothCorp building. The cold night air buffeted her hair, and sent a thrilling chill up her bare thighs. She hadn’t done a combat Op since leaving the Amazonian special forces, and it was great to be back in the field. She hadn’t expected the building to look like this, though.
“Are you seeing this?” She yelled into a throat mic to Bruce, who was in the Bat’s cockpit, piloting the small craft.
“Affirmative.” said Bruce. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
The entirety of the GothCorp building had been transformed: lush, verdant vegetation was spilling down the sides of the skyscraper, bulging out from the 26th floor where the Ivy Pharmaceuticals labs were based. Even as Diana watched, ivy vines appeared to be growing at an unnatural speed.There was no way she would be able to ingress through the windows.
“Put me down on the roof. I think there’s a way in there.”
The Bat banked, gained altitude, and suddenly they were hovering over the roof of GothCorp. All around, the lights of Gotham blazed beneath a sky full of uncaring stars and a huge, hostile moon. Beneath her, a glass atrium had been built onto the summit of the building. From tactical blueprints, she knew this was a kind of corporate lobby area. Now it looked like a mad scientist’s greenhouse.
“I’m going in. Break the glass for me.”
“Be careful Diana. If you need me, just summon me. I’m wearing a pheromone protective beak so her charms won’t affect me...”
“Oh relax, Bruce. The next time you see me I’ll be walking Pamerla out on a leash.”
And with that, Diana jumped.
As she fell, she crossed her arms over her chest and pointed her boot-clad feet. When she was a few feet from the glass, the air was split by a high pitched shriek. Bruce had fired the focused echo-locator beam from the Bat, and the oscillating sound shattered the glass beneath her just before she hit it. Diana plunged through the gap and into a jungle.
She took a few scratches to her thighs, but then hit the ground, bending her powerful legs in a professional squat. Slowly, she stood up. It was just like being back home, in Themyscira. Thick vines, each speckled with nascent orchids, crowded the inside of the atrium. She couldn’t see the sides of the building at all. Before her very eyes, the orchids and vines were growing. It must be some kind of growth accelerant, thought Diana. At this rate of growth, Pamela would have enough Pheretract to poison all the rivers in America. Maybe all the oceans in the world… she had to stop her. Determined, Diana pushed through the undergrowth, using her lasso to whip the Orchids out of the way. No sooner would she step forwards though, and more would grow behind her. Madness.
At last, she stumbled into a clearing in the center of the building. All around, a circular wall of vines writhed as if against an invisible barrier. Above, moonlight shone through the broken glass frame of the atrium, illuminating the scene below.
Diana couldn't believe her eyes.
Dr Pamela Isley was suspended in the middle of the clearing by a web of vines. She was completely naked, and her skin was now completely green. But stranger than that, it was slightly scaly in places, and seemed to ripple with suggestive, reptilian power. Her eyes were now completely white, and her bright red hair fell unkempt about her shoulders. There was a pool just beneath her, a GothCorp corporate water feature, now deathly still, reflecting a mirror image of the freakish, otherworldly woman and the moonlight above her.
“Diana Princccccccce, I presssssssume?” As she spoke, Diana noted that her tongue appeared to have become forked. Diana straightened her back and planted her muscular legs apart.
“You presume correct. Dr Isley, by the power invested in me by the UN Security Council, I am arresting you for acts of bioterrorism, and for the use of excessive force against Selina Kyle, the kidnap and maiming of Barbara Gorden, and the murders of Dr Harleen Quinzel and Dick Grayson.”
Pamela let out a serpentine laugh, and crossed her snakish legs suggestively in mid air. “Are you ssssssure about that? I think you’ll find my lawyerssss disagree with your accussssations....”
“Pamela, I couldn’t give a fuck about your lawyers. You think you’re so tough because of your thigh move, but you appropriated that from my home nation, along with much else. The use of snake venom for thigh enhancement has been used by Amazonian shamans for thousands of years, before you stole it. Today, I’m going to demonstrate a technique we call the Thighs of Truth, which you have been trying to copy with your Venus Thigh Trap.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Well, why don’t you get on and ssssshow me, Wonder Ssssssssssslut…I’m a bussssy woman….”
Diana felt the blood rush to her face. Pamela was mocking her. “Wonder Woman” had been the nickname the Daily Planet in Metropolis had given her when they did a piece about her for a feature on successful women (they had done a larger piece on Pamela Isley just a month later), and it had kind of stuck. Well, it was time to show this fake eco-bitch where the name came from.
“Gladly..” Diana grinned. The time for talk was over. In a fluid movement, she unclipped her lasso and threw it upwards, looping the top around the frame which held up the broken atrium, half way between her and Pamela. Narrowing her eyes, Diana ran forwards, her body poised like a panther going for the kill, and lept, grabbing hold of the lasso rope. She swung towards Pamela, opening her legs as she did so, in a move which came as naturally to an Amazonian as breathing. Colliding in midair, Diana Prince swung into the entrepreneur, crotch to chest, and slammed her meaty Amazon thighs shut around the eco-bitch’s torso, trapping her arms against her sides. The UN representative threw her head back and let out an Amazonian battle cry, even as she slapped her red combat boots together. And squeezed. Looking down into Pamela’s face, at those upturned freakish white eyes, she snarled. “Ok, Doctor Isley. You asked for it. Welcome to my Thighs of Truth. This is how it works. I’m only squeezing at maybe five percent of what I’m capable of. I’m going to ask you to confess, and until you do, I’m going to increase the pressure. I’m going to keep increasing it until you confess to all your crimes. Or your arms break. Or your ribs. Or you run out of air. Or you die. It’s all the same to me. So…” Something was very wrong. “Why are you laughing?”
Pamela was still suspended, upright, between Diana’s legs (who herself was suspended by the lasso) and by a few residual vines around her wrist and ankles. But from between her thighs, Diana could feel that the entrepreneur’s body was shaking….and not with fear. She was laughing. A wheezy, slightly compressed laugh, on account of the pressure from Diana’s thighs. But a laugh nonetheless. “What’s so funny?” said Diana, starting to worry, and increased the pressure with her legs - but Pamela only cackled harder. In fact, she opened her mouth wide, revealing her newly forked tongue, and with the last of her breath let out a hollow, high laugh, white eyes glowing.
“HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
Diana snarled. “Oh fuck you, I’ll just kill you now!” She rapidly pumped up the pressure with her body scissor, intending to crush the life out of this crazy bitch, and something obscene happened. Still laughing, Pamela started to slip through Diana’s legs. “No….” cried Diana, and squeezed as hard as she could, but this only sped up the process. With a slurping sound, Pamela dropped through Diana’s thighs and fell with a splash into the water feature below them. But something remained, caught in Diana’s thighs which slapped together with a loud THWACK as the body between them disappeared. Diana looked down in horror. Between her legs was a thin, scaly outline of Pamela Isley, almost see-through. A ghostly face stared up with holes where the eyes should be. It was her epidermis. Pamela had shed a layer of skin.
Trembling now, Diana opened her legs and kicked the skin shell away in disgust. It drifted languidly down onto the surface of the water, where Pamela was still submerged. Just how much of the snake venom did this crazy bitch drink? Thought Diana as she hooked her legs around the dangling lasso, still suspended from the atrium support beams. Looking down into the water, which had gone still again, Diana slowly started to shimmy herself down towards the surface. “I know you’re in there!” She cried out, trying to keep the tremulous tone from her voice. “That was a neat trick, you snake! But if you don’t come out and face justice, I’ll come down there and drown you! Even snakes can’t breathe water!” Or could they? Suddenly, all Diana’s certainties seemed to be slipping away.
She held herself above the still fountain. A minute went by. Two. Should she drop into the water and grapple with Pamela, finish her off? Should she call Bruce in the Bat for help? No! She forcefully rejected the idea as soon as it formed. She would not call for help. This was a minor set-back, that was all. As soon as Pamela came up for air, she was going to lock her up again. There’s only so many layers of skin she could have. Diana gritted her teeth, released one hand from the lasso and leant back, stared into the still water. The reflected surface of the moon stared back. Where was she? How long had…..”
The water erupted.
When she was a girl, Diana remembered seeing alligators leap from the hidden, murky depths of Amazonian rivers and capture their arrogant, unsuspecting prey in deathroll crushes. In the slow motion terror of the next ten seconds, she experienced first hand what it must have been like for those terrified riverbank dwellers.
The woman-creature that called itself Dr Pamela Isley burst from the water feature with superhuman power. She had clearly been crouching on the floor of the fountain, powerful thighs squatted and braced, and now powered up with such force she shot at least twelve feet into the air, a whole woman's height above Diana, trailing water beneath her, white eyes staring upwards in rapture at the moon, arms crossed against her chest. As Diana watched, clutching her lasso like a terrified monkey in its tree, the snake-woman backflipped, performed an achingly perfect reverse cartwheel in the air. Moon and star light glistened off her new skin, now shining green, as she vaulted upright and grabbed hold of two vines which extended obediently out from the writhing foliage to greet her. This done she opened her legs and swung downwards, suspended. The wet, scaly backs of her thighs slammed onto Diana’s shoulders. The Amazonian felt her arms and thighs go limp, from the shock or something else, and she released the lasso and squealed in terror. But she didn’t fall into the water. Oh no. She heard a nasty wet SLAP behind her head as Pamela locked her ankles, then jerked her legs and toned, scaly body prone. Around Diana’s trapped neck, venom-enhanced glutes and abductors pulsed and crushed. So-called “Wander Woman”’s body jerked in the sudden, breathless constriction of Pamela’s suspended thigh-grip. She hadn’t even been able to resist.
Eyes the colour of pearly orbs burned down imperiously, framed by green skin and wet red hair. When Pamela spoke, she didn’t sound breathless at all from her acrobatics. “I bet you are wondering what you can’t resssssssssssssssst.”
Diana was indeed wandering that. She was also wondering if she had just seconds left to live. The pressure on her neck was already beyond insane. Pamela’s legs had already deflated her windpipe and compressed the soft tissue in the side of her neck, in fact the younger woman’s adductors now held her spine firmly like a popsicle stick, ready to be snapped at any given moment. Any ability to vocalise was reduced to a hollow, desperate clicking. And still she couldn't bring her hands up to the other woman's legs for even token resistance. What was wrong with her?
“It’s not poiosssssssssson.” Said Pamela from above her, calmly. A light creaking, like the planks of an ice ship under pressure, could be heard as the two women swung, one suspending the other. That’s my spine thought Diana, with a detached sense of horror. “It’sssssssssssss your own bodiesssss’s natural ressssssssponse.” Lectured Dr Isley. “You may have heard the body has two ressssssssponsessssssses to terror. Flight or fight. But there issssssss a third. FREEZE. Your body insssssssstively recognissssses that I am the predator, and you the prey. I am the victor, and you the losssssssser. Me the massssssster, and you the ssssslave. You have now gone docccccile….awaiting to be devoured.”
And as she said this, it came to Diana what this was. In ancient Amazonian folklore, there was a creature called a Naga, a serpent deity, which crushed it’s victims to death. Pamela was the reincarnation of that deity. She had reached nirvana through the use of venom, like the ancient shamans. Logic left Diana and tears began to fall down her cheeks onto Pamela’s wet, green, newly-skinned thighs.
“Yesssss…..” Purred Diana from above. “But now…..you were talking about confessssions. Well it’s time for you to confesssssssssss what you are....”
Diana had thought that today had brought a (likely shortened) lifetime of surprises, but what happened next was truly shocking. Pamela’s thighs began to ripple, but rather than crushing motion, then did so in a very controlled, delicate fashion, allowing Diana little inhales of air, but quickly compressing them as sound. The doctor’s glutes were gently swelling against the Amazon’s vocal chords. She was being played like traditional panpipes in the Amazonian jungle. And the gasping, hooting sound that came out quickly coalesced into sound. Against her will, Diana found herself gasping out the words: “I’m….a…..Wander…..Slut……”
The tears were now flowing fully. The police wiretap under her breastplate would have surely caught that, and knowing how corrupt Gotham’s police were, it would leak eventually. Diana Prince, “Wonder Woman”, had just been squeeze-played, made to babble like a broken toy, by this superior snake Goddess. And the world would know.
Pamela nodded in satisfaction. “That was...interesssting, from both a sssssssscientic and artisssstic perspective. But now, our gamessssss must end. Goodnight, Wander Sssssssssslut…” And with that she began to lean back, arching her body. Her hips began to roll with hypnotic, jerking movements, like a belly dancer. Her mouth tilted up towards the moon in ecstasy. Diana inwardly screamed. This was it. She was going to die. Pamela was going to snap her neck, and she couldn't even beg for her life. Couldn’t do anything but watch as the killer thighs of Dr Isley ballooned and torqued and…
“WAIT!” A male voice bellowed, followed by the sound of breaking foliage. “Wait! Take me….kill me instead!”
***
From the hovering Bat, Bruce Wayne had listened with mounting horror at the events unfolding in the GothCorp atrium below. When it became obvious that the mission had gone seriously South, and Diana Prince’s life was in danger, he knew he had to act. He made his decision and called Wayne Manor.
“Jim? Alfred? Barbara?” He waited until all three were on the line and explained what he planned to do. They acted predictably. His old friend the commissioner tried to find another solution, but could not. His trustworthy butler was sad but accepted it with grim, British resignation, and told him his parents would have been proud. Barbara cried and begged him not to do it, but he cut her off. “I’m sending the Bat back to the cave on autopilot. It’s yours now, Barbara. You must continue my legacy. Only you can do this now that Dick is dead. When you’ve recovered, you must become….the Batgirl.”
And with that he donned his cape for the last time. He also equipped his graphene-kevlar batsuit, but didn’t activate it. There would be no point, not after what had happened to Barbara. Finally, he donned his pheromone resistant beak-mask. He wasn’t going to give the bitch the satisfaction of having him lust after her while she killed him, at least not beyond normal, male lust at a red headed 22 year old genius villainess.
He leapt from the Bat and landed in thick jungle in the atrium, tearing his cape on the way down. He battled through until he came to the clearing with the water feature. With the web of vines. With Diana Prince, suspended by the neck in the thighs of Pamela Isley, seconds from death. “WAIT!” He yelled, pushing through the last few feet of ever growing vines. “Take me….kill me instead!”
For a minute he thought it was too late, as Pamela twisted her legs...but there was no snap, the movement only threw Diana towards Bruce, away from the fountain. The UN Security Ambassador’s body rolled limply to his feet. He rushed forward to where she lay, upright, gasping, her usually pretty face now a compressed, blue mess.
“B...Bruce…” she wheezed. “Don’t….”
“It’s ok Diana. It’s ok, I’ll…”
“Very noble of you to take the placcccccccce of the Metropolissss Wander SSSSSSSSSlut, Brucccccce…” said Pamela, twisting in her vines to face him. It was now he got his first full view of the snake Goddess, and he almost stopped breathing there and then from shock. The glistening green, scaled skin, the white eyes, the sensuous way the muscles rippled beneath the skin on her legs...so freakish and yet strangely sexy too.
“Alright, you bitch. I’m here. You take me. You get to kill me, in your thigh hold. It’s me you want anyway, isn’t it? Bruce Wayne, the great industrialist, the great polluter. Take me, and spare Diana’s life.”
He could tell he’d judged right. A ghostly smile spread across Pamela’s green face. “Ssssure. I won’t kill her. Deal. Now….” Pamela came forward, swinging from vine to vine until she was suspended over Bruce and Diana. Just above and in front of Bruce’s head, she slowly opened her legs. Bruce watched as muscles rippled, as her abs flexed in a scaly six pack. “SSSssssstep right in….”
“N...no…” cried Diana from his feet, but Bruce steeled himself. He stepped forward. Pamela arched forward, suspended like a trapeze artist by yet more outreaching vines. Lying prone in midair, the fronts of her killer thighs came to rest on Bruce’s shoulders, so he was facing down the backs of her legs towards her feet. Feet which then snapped together. Bruce brought his hands up, felt freakish, undulating glutes beneath fresh skin. Saw her calves mesh together, then her knees, then her ankles bend back towards his head, the soles of her feet blocking out his view of the moon. As the pressure went from zero to hyper-unbearable in less than a second, he briefly reconsidered his sacrifice. But it was too late. He couldn’t beg. Couldn't even speak. Somewhere beyond the sudden sense of implosion, he was aware that his feet had left the ground. Was aware of Pamela saying something, calmly, in that hissing, monotonous, lecturing voice of hers.
Then there was a nasty POP. He thought he heard the sound of bats calling in the night. Everything went red. Then black.
***
Lying on her back, her chest heaving for air inside her tight gold breastplate, Diana watched in horror as Bruce Wayne, legendary crimefighter, was hoisted into the air. Watched as he kicked his legs pathetically like a schoolboy on a monkey bar. Watched as he pawed at Pamela’s thighs, with the futility of a drowning man. Watched as Pamela’s legs locked, then curled upwards into a brutal cinch. Watched as they rippled with deathly, brutal power.
Meanwhile, Pamela faced down at her, white eyes glowing madly, and began to speak again. “Thissss, Diana, is my patented Venussssss Thigh Trap. Thissss is actually the firsssst kill I’ve made with it. So nicccce of Brucce to volunteer. Right now, my thighssss are crussssshing his neck, my adductorsssss his windpipe, my gluttessssssss his carotiddds, and now my calvessssssssssss and feet, his face. Thisssss is naturessssss’s perfect revenge. Just once more squeeeeeeeeze and….”
But Diana couldn’t watch any longer. Finally finding an ounce of strength, she rolled onto her front just as a POP that sounded like the universe imploding came from above her. There was a brief squeal, and Pamela gasped with orgasmic relief. Something warm, wet, red and gray dripped down onto Diana’s back. Then something black and metallic hit the ground in front of her. It was the Batman’s beak mask, bent hideously out of shape and coated in blood and brain matter. Before she had time to scream, two green feet slammed to the ground in front of Diana. Two green feet at the end of two muscular, pulsing, calves, topped by two rippling thighs with fragments of skull still sticking to the scaly skin.
Pamela was holding Diana’s lasso in her hand. “Now….you have a choicccce… you either get in your own leassssh like a good little Wonder SSSSSlut...or you go in my thighsssss…..what will it be?”
Diana finally found her energy. Getting onto all fours, she scurrying towards her lasso like a trained bitch. “The leash! The leash!” She said, half mad, slipping it onto her own neck. “I’ll be good! See? I’m a good little Wonder SLut! See? See? Please not the thighs, Doctor-Naga-Goddess-Poison-Ivy! Not the thighs!”
***
Barbara Gorden watched tearfully out of the rear window of the Bat as Wayne Manor slipped away beneath them. Her father sat strapped in beside her, while Alfred was in the cockpit, piloting them away from Gotham. Dr Isley had given her enemies an hour to leave Gotham airspace. Below, long columns of cars - refugees - struggled to leave the city before the deadline.
“It’s not fair...we should fight her!” Said Barbara between sobs.
The Commissioner sighed next to her. “At the moment, it’s just not possible, dearest. Once our wiretap leaked, it was over. The Gotham city authorities surrendered after hearing their crime fighting hero had been crushed. Washington have turned the Gotham district area over to Pamela and her forces, happy to be rid of a crime ridden city which has long been an embarrassment to them. Bane is said to be her lieutenant. There are nightly cage fights now.”
“And Metropolis?” Cried Barbara. “Our own government may be corrupt and spineless, but will the UN really just sit back and let this happen?”
“Sadly yes. After hearing their heroine confess to being a Wander Slut, and seeing her paraded on TV like a dog at every public announcement - by her own lasso, no less - they caved. Besides, many citizens worldwide are broadly supportive of Dr Isley’s agenda, they say the environmentalists' time has come. In some countries they are saying she is the reincarnation of Gaia, or Mother Nature. In Scandinavia they are praising what the Venus Thigh Trap means for women’s rights. In…” He stopped, seeing this was just upsetting Barbara more.
After a while, Barbara’s face hardened. She looked down at her legs, still healing from Pamela’s grapevine. When she spoke again, the Commissioner could hear the resolve in her voice. “I’ll be back. I’m going to go to Amazonia, to Themyscira. I’ll heal, then enhance my legs like hers. I’ll train with the thighmastering shamans. And I’ll come back and punish her. She’ll beg between MY thighs!”
“One day.” Said the Commissioner. “One day. But today, the city belongs to Dr Pamela Isley.”
They both looked down at the lines of cars snaking out of the city. In the opposite direction, hundreds of hippie vans and electric research trucks were heading in the opposite direction, towards Gotham in triumph. Banners read “All hail Mother Nature! All hail POISON IVY!”
THE END
