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The Harley & The Ivy

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Chasing her two compatriots in crime across the moonlit rooftops of Gotham’s dockside, Poison Ivy surprised herself with a loud, delighted laugh. She paused, a puzzled frown chasing the glee from her green face. The other two stopped to stare at her : Livewire's sneer slid ineffectually off of her well planted psyche, but Harley Quinn's grinning gaze ruffled something within her that she couldn't quite quantify ; and she found herself laughing again.

Quinn splayed her arms upwards, arched her back ; her costume stretched tautly over her athletic, pert breasted figure. Ivy felt an odd warmth radiate through her at the sight.

“You're finally having fun, Red!

The botanical supervillain rebuilt her aloof composure, but now it was only a facade.

“My only desire here is to have you help me reach climax1.” She meant it purely botanically, but the other two had zero botanical schooling. Harley clutched her sides, brayed Brooklyn laughter ; leaning against the scarred wood of a rooftop door, Hollis shook her head in amused disbelief at her two oblivious confederates. Realizing the enormity of her double entendre, Poison Ivy blushed ; flustered, she didn't possess immediate control over her bodily systems. Hollis found it very interesting that as the blush travelled down Ivy's throat and over her shoulders it displaced the prim foliage of her costume with alluringly flushed, jasmine scented 'skin'. Hollis had nothing to fear about being poisoned by the toxicity of Ivy's biochemistry : she had shifted from her physical form to her electrical one to ignore the dangers of airborne pheromones and toxins.

Harley Quinn's chemically chaotic2 physiology wasn't completely immune to the potent presence of Pamela ; her giggling fit took on a slightly drugged slur.

How clueless can you two be? Hollis snickered to herself at the thought of a literally toxic relationship. Time to launch a tragic love affair! She smirked at Poison Ivy and exclaimed, “Wallflower, you're hot for clown!”

Ivy stared dumbly back at the abrupt declaration of the blue and white lightning woman, and the rudely referenced harlequin was shocked out of her wriggling laughter. She realized just how lighthearted and happy she was in Poison Ivy's presence, and what it actually meant. Her eyes welled up as she quietly and slightly blurredly enquired, “What’s that, ‘Wire? Red likes me?”

“Man, could you two be any more thick?” Hollis rolled her eyes as she addressed Poison Ivy with a pale index finger and a sardonic voice : “You've being checking her out all night, and," The finger jabbed towards the stretched out Harley, "You just paraded your steak for her hard enough to make a vegan chomp meat! Why don’t you two just shuck & suck each other’s oysters right here and now?” She flashed a toothy, evil grin.

Harley picked herself up off of filthy tarpaper, stood in close to Ivy ; could not help but run her hands through Ivy's luxuriant tresses of crimson botanical hair. She meant to sound loud and happy, but her voice actually came out small and bashful.

“You like me, really?”

A bemused Pamela Isley bent her neck back in pleasure at Quinzel’s gently fondling hands as she attempted to explain to both Harley and herself her feelings.

“You confuse me! Emotionally I'm happy, but physically I'm..." Her puzzlement vanished ; her expression brightened like a flower opening to the sun: "Yes! Yes, I like you! I really like you!” She brought her mouth near to Harley’s, and her pheromone laced breath made Harley squirm pleasurably even as her respiration ebbed slightly. A little more foliage faded from Isley’s outfit, and she came close to kissing, probably fatally, the quivering Harley. She laughed at the simplicity of the truth and, holding Harley by her shapely shoulders, avowed, “It’s our first date, Harleen!” She withdrew her lips to a safer distance.

“And I make it a point,” ‘now’, she thought, "of allowing my dates to survive the first night out!”

Behind them, a stern voice broke the romantic spell with, "I don't know what you're up to but it can't be any good!"

A caped and cowled woman emerged spookily from the shadows on the far side of the rooftop.

Poison Ivy and Livewire turned as one ; Harley was too stoned to anything but weave gently on her feet, a wanton little smile plastered across her face.

Both women responded in similar yet completely different ways : Poison Ivy's cry, "Batgirl!" was depressed ; Hollis' shout, "Batbitch!" was gleeful as electricity arcing from an electrical junction arced out to snake and crackle over her body.

Batgirl frowned at Livewire: "Do you always have to be so rude?”

Hollis smirked : "What’cha going to do about it, spank me?” She stuck her slender bottom out, smacked a cheek with a pale hand. “Here it is, but you're far too good a girl to be able to spank me hard enough to change my ways, Bat Bimbo!"

From the other direction came another female voice every bit as happy as Hollis’ : “But(t) I bet I can, spark plug!" Arms akimbo, Supergirl levitated above the warehouse's dirty roof.

Willis whisked her leggings down over her backside and mooned Kara. "Come and try, Superslut!"

Kara descended gracefully to the rooftop ; replied to the obscene gesture with, “You won’t be able to sit for a year!”

Batgirl averted her gaze from the nude beneath the waist Hollis.

”That’s gross even for you, Livewire!”

Willis cackled as her fists crackled as she swung at Supergirl. Kara gracefully dodged the blow, and a very dangerous attempt at disciplining the very wayward Hollis began.

In desperation, Ivy, far removed from anything but her own vegetative self to draw upon, kissed Harley, whispered, “I’m sorry!” ; dove off the roof into the murky waters of the bay. Batgirl started to chase her but, had no other course of action but to render aid with antitoxin to the suddenly convulsing Harley Quinn. Having dosed the feebly squirming Quinn, Barbra Gordon cast a mystified look towards where Poison Ivy had escaped her.

Barbra wondered, ‘Ivy looked remorseful? What did we just crash?’

Behind her the crackle of electricity and the pained scream of her friend brought her back to the action.

Flat on her back, Harleen Quinzel awoke long enough to heartbreakingly wail, “Pamela!” before passing out again under the lightning flashed ozone stink of battle.


Chapter One

A cruel smile cut across her emerald face, Poison Ivy sashayed into the large, plant walled and ceilinged chamber.

“Whoever you were, you're now nothing but plant food!” She directed her gaze up at a figure struggling within a tangle of her carnivorous vines as fragments of red and black patterned cloth began fluttering down followed by the far less graceful plunge of an oversized croquet mallet.

Pamela's smile turned into open mouthed shock: “Harleen?”

The reply, panicky and a bit vine muffled, confirmed the intruder’s identity : “I don’t wanna' be fertilizer, Red! Help!”

Ivy furrowed her brow in concentration, the vines lowered from the ceiling ; their prisoner, an upside down and mostly nude Harleen Quinzel grinned that inane yet adorable grin that had first gotten under Ivy's epidermis during their three girl Gotham spree six months earlier.

“Hi ya, Red!”

Harley waved an enthusiastic upside down wave before noticing her partial nudity ; her arms came up in a demure affectation of bust coverage. Her low-hanging fruit display surprised Poison Ivy : she felt the reawakening of those surprisingly hot stirrings that had thought she had destroyed when she had used a poisoned Harley Quinn as a desperate escape plan. However, not only had Harley survived—she could only assume that Batgirl had be in possession of antitoxin—but she was also returning to try to reignite what she had almost achieved with Pamela prior to the SuperBat blitz. In remembering the disaster, Ivy suddenly realized that she had been far angrier than usual since the sudden severing of the promising relationship, and she abruptly knew what her cure was : she needed a large infusion of lost lover, stat! She kept this need behind a frosty facade as dignity demanded that she not instantly embrace her lover, and, more importantly, she'd rather not instantly re-poison Harleen. Managing a detached manner, Pamela inquired, “Harley Quinn, what do you want?”

Harleen pouted, her arms tightening across her chest ; pink crescents of small areola and pencil eraser nipples peeked pinkly over the pale flesh of her forearms. The mammalian display aroused two responses within Pamela Isley's mind : strong physical desire mixed with confusion. She thought, What is it about this mammal that makes her different from all of the others?

Eyes shining, Harley breathily asserted : “I want you, Red!”

There was that final and seemingly unsurmountable issue : "But I almost killed you!"

"Trust me, Red : now I can take all of your lov'n!"

"Can you, really?" ; she willed the seething vine to drop its captivating cargo into her arms. "I'm going to need proof."

Ivy felt Harleen's sexual vigour through the body chemistry of the sweat, saliva and scent that carried through the delicate stoma complex of her epidermis into her biochemically super aware body ; and discovered two things : Harleen really was immune to the deadly effects of Ivy's toxins ; and, she had the sweet sexy musk of Ethylene3 in her sweat. Pamela Isley found herself laughing delightedly as she hugged the confused and then also laughing Harleen Quinzel to her sexually enkindling body.

"You really are the only mammal for me!"

Poison Ivy’s signs of sexual stimulation were far more interesting than just the typical dilated pupils and labial swellings of fully mammalian women. She did possess these ordinary markers, but they were far less noticeable than her unique set of aroused bodily responses. In her lover's arms, a rapt Harleen watched the exclusive sexual biology of Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley blossom. Quinzel had seen its beginnings only once before, and now she was ready to see it through.

The vegetation that clothed Pamela retreated before the spread of her comely blush to reveal a firm, busty body that was a beguilingly odd fusion of flora and fauna. The final fade of costume, at her groin, revealed Ivy’s core, a Georgia O'Keefe-esque purple, yellow and coral orchid vulva that was the single sexiest thing Harley had ever seen. Then Pamela's sexual physiology really skyrocketed.

A luminous emerald haze spread first from the genitals and then the rest of the body perfuming the air with a scent of honey. Harleen greedily breathed it in, and elatedly felt exactly what she had struggled so long to achieve : a much more measured response than the euphoric madness and near death that had been the results of her first dose of Poison Ivy's pheromones. Harley felt a lust for Poison Ivy flood through her so strong as to almost qualify as a spontaneous orgasm. She fixed her pleasure darkened eyes on Ivy’s equally dilated pupils, and kissed her.

Pamela pulled away, a guilty look flashing across her face.

"I abandoned you!"

Harley smiled in a way new to her: gently.

“Nope, you only misplaced me; now I'm found. ”

If she had possessed lacrimal glands, Teardrops would have fallen from Pamela Isley's emerald eyes as she tenderly kissed the woman she held in her arms.

“That’s more like it, Pam!”

The prettily petite and pale Harleen Quinnzel returned the kiss, slipping a pointed tongue past Pamela's green lips as her pale hands played with breasts much larger than her own pert pair. An ecstatic little moan escaped Pamela at Harleen's oral and digital attentions ; her nipples hardened into emerald points of pleasure, and a liquid heat began to flare with insistent need at her groin.

Another unusual aspect of Pamela's botanical physiology added to the outré lovemaking : a ripple of iridescent moss flowed off of Ivy’s body ; proceeded to consume the remaining tatters of Harley’s outfit in the most outlandish, ticklish and, sexy disrobing imaginable.

Quinn giggled: “It kinda lichen tickles, Red!” She would have gone on to make a joke that it moss look pretty funny, but Ivy tongued her pleasure pouted nipples, and she had no choice but to eject wit in favour of an ecstatic gasp of pleasure.

Suddenly feeling a little too far over the edge of rationality, a bit too giddy for her sense of floral self, Pamela, altered her immediate biochemical status, and overrode a portion of her animal lust : not enough to turn her off of the ensuing sex. She required just enough self-control to let her retain her aplomb as she engaged in the physical act of love. Harleen was rocketing far too quickly down the hormonal slip-and-slide of sex to either notice or care that her lover was no longer quite as besotted with her as she had been seconds before.

Springy grasses, pliant ferns and fragrant herbs sprouted and bloomed instantly under Harleen as Pamela laid her down upon the luxuriant, vegetative bed.

Quinn, a pink tanga garbed nymph, lounged immodestly in her fantastic fairy glade, her hands sensually sliding down over naked breasts and flat stomach to tease little groans and Hip twitches out of her by grazing the fabric covering her vulva. She kept her lust darkened, half-lidded eyes locked on a Pamela who was having a hard time not completely surrendering to her sex drive. The earthy, slightly ethylene sweetened scent rising off of the light sheen of sweat beginning to glisten across Harleen's slowly writhing body made Pamela's orchid genitals open to reveal their moist, perfumed inner folds ; a slender green hand wandered to it, and, almost as if on its own accord, began to gently stroke the wet, heated petal it found there. Jasmine joined the other sex scent, and a rivulet of honeyed fluid trickled from her vulva and down her inner thigh as Pamela's own soft whimpers intermingled with those of Harleen's. Then, gazing into each others eyes, hands traded places ; the tempo and volume of the cries and moans increased as masturbation became mutual. Pamela found her self control ebbing as Harleen's questing fingers brushed across her bright yellow clitoris, and she trembled through the first electrifying shocks of impending orgasm even as she felt her own fingertips slid past the wet cotton of panties to slip within a surprisingly hairy mons pubis.

Harleen cried out, ecstatically, "I'm yours, Pam!”

Pamela correctly translated the exclamation to mean 'do whatever you want to me', and was astonished in two ways : the depth of Harleen's trust awed her as did the fact that she suddenly found herself in literal virgin territory. She found the abrupt thought of serious relationship literally sobering. 'I have no idea how to handle...' Then experience and expertise redressed her problem.

Ivy knelt down before Harley’s indecorously splayed legs, and she returned the same gentle smile with which Harleen had assured her that the relationship was recoverable.

"You're all mine?"

Harleen spread eagled herself before her green lover : "Every ounce, inch and pinch!"

Pamela tested the assertion, reaching down to tweak a pert, coral nub of nipple : Harleen twitched, happily ; asked, "I wanna' know exactly what you're going to do to me, Pam! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

“I’m going to tend to your garden, Harleen : weeding, tilling, harvesting, planting.

“What’cha mean?”

“That not only my thumbs are green!”

Ivy hooked her aforementioned thumbs under the elastic band of the pink panties ; Harley raised her tush, and Pamela whisked the moistened article of apparel off ; lofted it into the humid air, a cherry blossom that fell across an erect patch of purple, penile snapdragons.

Crouched between Harley’s splayed legs, Pamela inspected the bushy blonde thatch that obscured a pouty, almost petal free vulva.

“Well, if anyone was going to have a wild garden...!”

Swishing the vine within her mouth that acted as her tongue, Pamela concentrated upon producing a saliva just right for epilation. Harley was about to ask for details, when Pamela erased the question from her mind with a sloppily stirring swipe of green tongue across her crotch. Murmuring pleasurably, Harleen welcomed the lap with an upward thrust of her hips, a portion of her brain--a minor portion--noting that the organ contacting her amorous skin was now oddly raspier than it had been before. Then, as its cat's tongue attentions lifted, a larger part of her was aware of something else : her nether regions were a little too...heated ; but, again before she could respond, a second liberally wet dash of soft tongue both cooled and further exited her. A horny and mystified Harleen raised her head from her ferny bed in time to witness Pamela hawking a large blonde hairball into the open maw of a vine that, as she watched, retracted back into the shadows as quickly as it had snaked to Pamela's side. Pamela responded to the woman's confusion with an enigmatic joke.

“If you can’t see the flowers and veggies for the weeds, it’s not a proper garden!”

“Huh?” Pamela pointed down to the base of Harleen's torso, and Harleen suddenly understood as she saw and then felt her now completely smooth, hairless mons veneris.

She spoke with an odd mix of turned-on and weirded-out : “You shaved me with your mouth?”

“I don’t like hair in my food!” Ivy darted her slick, emerald tongue into the bare, drenched satin of Harley’s vulva ; began to feast.

“You taste like red meat!”

“I thought, Ohhh!, you were a, Ahhh!, a veget….”

Ivy smiled : “I’m not big on cannibalism, Harl.” The smile widened in to a grin: “I only eat animals.” She proved this interjection by returning to her metaphorical consumption of Harleen Quinzel's pudendum.

Harley entwined her fingers in Ivy’s mane of red hair, and held on as her lover continued her oral explorations of her amorous anatomy.

She gasped, "But how can meat suddenly show up with all of the gardening sex talk?"

Her face slick with Harleen's intoxicating juices--'What exactly were the contents of that concoction she was bathed in, anyway--Pamela parked her face inches from her lover's ; gravely intoned, "Chickens, cows and sheep are practically vegetables..."

Harleen put a mock twist in her smile : "Are you calling moi a turnip?"

"That tastes like lamb!"

She punctuated the observation with a wriggling tongue tip tentacle against Harleen's stiff little pearl of a clitoris.

Harleen Quinzel's response was a multiple body quaking series of laughter suffused orgasms.

Ivy cradled Quinn as she slowly swam back to the world of conscious thought from the valhalla of gibbering pleasures. Mostly returned, Harley quirked a sweaty grin up at her lover.

“I didn’t know they made orgasms that strong!”

“Apparently, for you, I can.”

“ 'Ray!” Harley wiped her sweaty brow. “Cuddle?”

“Cuddle.” Ivy snuggled her pooped paramour.

Ivy stroked Harleen's damp hair. “So, how is it that you can do that with me?"

Harley traced the curves of a verdant earlobe with a finger. “Oh, once I knew I wanted you, Pam, I stole a batch of your products from Arkham and started using them to build an immunity to your... fatal charms!"

Pamela Isley, biochemist, kissed her foolish daredevil.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that plan was?”

Harley knew exactly how dangerous it had been. She had nearly died twice ; but, in the arms of her objective, she also knew that the risks had been nothing against the gains. She slipped her sharp little pink tongue around the delicate curl of a green earlobe and accepted the pleased shiver as proof that she had stayed the correct course.

She smiled a wacky banana : “Now d' ya have any idea how much I want you, lover?”

“I do!” Ivy kissed her with a duration and single-mindedness that proved that she now knew exactly how much Quinn valued her. Inside the intricate enigma of her animal vegetable anatomy, Pamela unshackled her animal urge ; she felt it begin to bud within her as she lay in Harleen's lazily loving embrace.


A half hour later, a renewed Harley raised what had been on her mind ever since Poison Ivy had phrased it : “So, I’ve been weeded and harvested, Red ; what’s with the planting?”

Ivy cocked a grin ; grew a cock, her clitoris sprouted, thickened ; developed a urethra.

Harley’s eye widened, and she fell melodramatically backwards, limbs spread-eagled: “Teak me!”

Ivy’s grin grew with the shaft until it was a thirteen inch monster of scary five inch girth.

“Like this?”

Harley quickly crossed her legs. “No way! I thought teak trees were wee!”

“No." Pamela wiggled her hips ; the mighty yellow, red traceried phallus swayed, timber in the wind. "They're huge hardwoods!”

Harley reached up, touched the smooth, woody glans ; it twitched, Ivy shuddered.

“Way too much tree!” How about shrinking it down and giving me some suger, maple?”

Ivy snorted at the pun. She winkled her nose, and the length and girth reduced down to a still very impressive eight by three.

“Now that’s wood I can work!” Harleen uncrossed, knelt before Ivy ; wrapped a hand around the base of the shaft and slowly began to stroke upwards.

A rapt expression of concentration furrowing her brow, Harleen joked, "I haven't climbed a tree in a long time : how'm I doin'?"

Pamela wanted to reply wittily, but all she could manage was a gasped, "Fi-AHH!-ne!"

A clear pearl of fluid welled up at the tip top just as Harleen's hand crested over the glans.

A hummingbird drinking nectar, Harley lapped at the liquid ; and a glistening strand of pre come bridged the gap in between her tongue and the saliva and come slicked head of Pamela's glans penis cum glans clitoridis. Her face registered happy surprise.

“You taste like maple syrup?”

Gently playing with herself, an inflamed Ivy groaned : “I’m a...biochemist with, ohhh!, botanical superpowers ; I can taste like whatever I, or you, want...”

Harleen interrupted her, taking the entire head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around its rigid heat before lengthening her appreciations to the rest of the member and its feminine root flower. The flavour of the fluid trickling into her mouth swung through a complimentary series of flavours: chocolate, coffee, cinnamon, nutmeg. During this demonstration of her control over her biochemistry, Pamela's knees weakened and she sank sweating, and gasping onto her back, where with a screaming, back arching thrust, she dual climaxed : one animal with impressive spurts of aromatic fluid ; the other floral with multiple bursts of iridescent pollen sprays from tiny red flowers that burst into glorious orgasmic bloom across her body.

Harley managed to contain the first two penile spurts, but the rest of the bio-luminous golden fluid spurted freely in spasmodic time to Ivy’s ecstatic cries of release. Honey and pollen bespattered, Harleen slid slickly up her lover’s body to plant a powdery kiss upon her panting, open mouth.

"That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!" She sniffled, wrapped her arms around Pamela and wept happily : "You're mine, forever and ever?"

"And ever!" She soothed down Harleen's damp and dusty blonde hair. She considered her crotch, noting that the swelling hadn't yet reseeded. Quinn also took note ; took hold, brushing the tip against the outer fold of her vulva. She directed a half-joking quip at Pamela.

“I’m not going to pop out a baby bouncing bonsai in nine months, am I?”

“Only if the flower can baby bump the bee!"

"Then I'll give this thing a big, 'stAy-MEN' ! "

Ivy bucked her hips; only her glans penetrating vulva ; Harley provided the rest of the penetration, slowly, noisily, sweatily inching down on eight inches of thick, curved shaft. As soon as she bottomed out, her flushed vulva grazed Ivy’s female genitals and both participants orgasmed as one. Harley cried out, “I’m a tree hugger! ” ; began to lustily ride her lover carousel-pole-cowgirl style until, splattered by their commingled sexual ejecta, sweat, and saliva, the couple collapsed, a gasping, groaning happy knot of sweaty lovers .

Her left hand lazily roaming Ivy's sweat slick flank, Harleen's right scribbled haiku in the emissions of love:

Field of flowers

After a summer rain storm

Steaming in the sun

Harleen Quinzel snuggled down against Pamela, whispered her ribald poetry in her ear ; Pamela, lolling upon the bed of vegetation, climax blossoms shucking off her sweaty body in a lovely drift of petals; her liquid slicked phallus slowly shrinking back into its original clitoral nubbin at the vertex of her perfumed, orchid vulva, smiled languidly.

"Tell me more, my horny little poetess!"

Harley furrowed her brow, looked for inspiration ; found it on her lover. She plucked a petal still attached to Pamela ; the plucked twitched, erotically.

"She loves me!" Pluck. Twitch. "She loves me not." Pluck. Twitch! "She loves me!" Pluck. Twitch!! "She loves me not. Pluck. Twitch!!! She arrived at the final one and, unhappy with the results, adhered a fallen petal to Ivy's side with a dollop of ejaculate ; triumphantly snatched it away.

"She loves me!"

To prove the point, Ivy wrapped her arms about her ; dragged her down for a lazy, drawn out smooch.

Pamela broke the kiss, murmured ; "The haiku was good, but I really felt that one!"


1 Climax, in Ivy's context, refers to the ecological achievement of equilibrium in her particular vegetable environment.

2 A previous dysfunctional boyfriend (!) had dipped Harley in a variant of his very own villainous origin-bath.

3 Ethylene is both an industrial gas and a plant pheromone! This makes it perfect for the narrative as it was obviously included in Harley Quinn's chemical origin bath.