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Supervillains

Control & Bodily Needs

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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Vignette One

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Paul grumbled under his breath as he blinked his way awake. It was just another day in hell: what was he to do with that? There was nothing good there for him, nothing at all, and the drudgery of the days was getting to him.

They were either all the same or they wore him down even more, Lady Blaze's mood erratic and random. She was volatile and not even when she had visitors over. There was simply no telling when she would want to humiliate him or whether a day would be his last. The only good thing there was that Lady Blaze had not yet killed him, so there was some kind of hope to be had there too.

“Oof."

He sat up slowly, his entire back aching as he tried to come to his senses. It had been a long day, before, of making bricks and transporting them over to the watchtower Jamrag and him had been tasked with building. Yet it was incredibly slow progress and Lady Blaze seemed to enjoy just how much effort they were having to put into it. Brick by brick raised the foundations, though only the foundations and about a foot of wall had been built so far.

It helped, however, that Lady Blaze had gone away to Earth for a time. He'd thought about darting through the portal after her when she'd left, though the mistress of hell most likely wouldn't have liked that in the slightest. He didn't want to rile her up, though knowing that her portals were one way out of there for him was something to file away in the back of his mind.

It had not been relaxing at all to have her away, for Jamrag had been increasingly vicious over the recent weeks. When he was in charge, he bore a sharp tongue and an even rougher demeanour, frequently going to clout Paul. Paul, however, wouldn't bear ill repercussions from ducking out of Jamrag's way, though he'd definitely pulled a hamstring trying to avoid Jamrag only a couple of days ago. He had no idea what had got under the demon's skin, but he had been in a particularly foul mood when he had gone at Paul with a shovel. However, Paul didn't fully have to take that, no.

Still, he had to get up as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Lady Blaze had sent a message the day before that she would be gone for several more weeks. That in itself wasn't a bad thing – but the fact that she expected significant progress on the watchtower by the time she was back was a point of concern. Or more like a mark of anxiety, twisting and pulling in the pit of Paul's stomach.

What would she do if she came back and not enough progress had been made? What even was enough progress? There was no telling what benchmark for success she had in mind – and it was not as if Lady Blaze was going to tell them either.

He stretched his arms over his head.

No need to worry about that… I'll just get on with it.

_ _

He moved around his small, dismal accommodation, which was only one step up from the cell. His bed was narrow and hard, although he had acquired a thicker blanket for it. Most of the time, he slept on that instead of using it to cover himself, for the heat of hell was still overbearing and sweltering at all times. There was no escaping it, not even in his small room.

The attached bathroom flushed his waste away, likely to a lava pool somewhere, but he didn't have to deal with that, thankfully. That was one good thing and he dressed simply in plain, brown trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. The clothes kept him warmer but also helped protect his skin. One could never tell what was coming at them in hell, so he had to be prepared. At least doing that one little thing helped him a bit.

Gathering his items for the day, though he didn't need too much for his work on the watchtower, he paused as his door swung open. Of course, he didn't have a lock on it.

Jamrag's shrivelled, sunken face peered shrewdly in at him, as if the demon was hoping to catch Paul doing something he could punish him for.

“Mistress Grail requires your presence in her quarters," he grunted, using few words. “Mistress Grail says not to tarry – her words, not mine. Unff."

Paul shook his head and hesitated.

“Uh… Did she say why she wanted me?"

Of course, Jamrag only twisted his lips in annoyance, pressing them together.

“Look, rat, I'm just giving you information – information you should damn well listen to, huh? Hurry, we got work to do."

Jamrag ducked back out, leaving without another word. Paul sighed and thought back. Had he forgotten to deliver something to Grail? He was enamoured with her, in a way, yes, but he was sure he had met every one of her required needs of late. He had been particularly on the ball with things, ducking in and out of his work on the watchtower – and, before that, Lady Blaze's statue, of course.

Maybe threats hanging over his head worked for a time, but having someone around that made his arousal surge in a good-bad way was even more motivating for him. It was hard to say, but worry stirred and twisted in the pit of his stomach. Grail was not Lady Blaze, but she could still punish him if she wanted to.

So, he tried his best to make sure no one had any reason at all to do that.

I hope she doesn't need me to clear up another one of her bowel movements, he thought with a shudder as he hastened down the long, winding corridors into the nicer part of Lady Blaze's home base. Of course, the slaves and servants didn't live in the good parts, so his surroundings took on a more elegant yet hellish air as he trotted at a light job. That's still gross… I'm sure she picked up making me take care of those things from Lady Blaze. Ugh…

_ _

Still, he did as they asked, even though disposing of their bowel movements was particularly humiliating for him, making Paul feel like he really was worse than the dirt under their heels. He tried not to think about the intricacies of tasks like that, though he had to admit they were not as laborious for him as building the watchtower and similar things. He supposed he had to acknowledge when he was trading one hell for another, as little as he liked to.

The guest quarters still had the same, red-toned walls, though hellish lanterns lit the way, burning perpetually. Her door beckoned him, with a plain, grey exterior, and he took a breath before knocking.

“Enter."

Ah, shit.

_ _

He steadied himself and walked into the main living area of the guest quarters, though Grail seemed well-settled there after staying for several months already. It was a large space, more than suitable for her as a guest, though she was as good as sub-royalty down there in hell. Lady Blaze commanded everything, of course, but she was good to her friends – and that was exactly what Grail had turned out to be too.

There was at least carpet on the floors and an open door across the way from him led into a tiled kitchen. However, the key feature of her guest quarters was the wall on his right. It was entirely made of glass and opened up to a balcony that looked out over a red, burning view of hell. Paul shuddered merely being that close to it, shaking his head, though the heat of hell simmered through everything, something he could never get away from. If he could live his life in something other than shades of red and brown, that would very much be appreciated.

Maybe one day. The view looking out over the lava streams and rocky mountains, rough with crags, was enough to capture him, if only for a moment. Even out there, however, Paul was not free.

Dragging his eyes away, Paul eyed up the semi-circle of sofas and a couple of armchairs. They almost looked out of place down there in hell but certainly had been designed with Earth comforts in mind. It was possible that Grail was looking for something down there that would not have naturally come to Lady Blaze, but she was a host who would offer her guests everything they wanted. Usually, it was her slaves and servants, of course, who took care of those needs.

Yet there was no sign of Mistress Grail anywhere in there. Paul looked around, hesitating. Should he call for her? There was really nothing else for it.

“Mistress Grail?" He said, raising his voice. “You called for me? Is there anything I can serve you with?"

He'd changed from “assist" to “serve" at the last moment, though that felt like the most appropriate way to regard his relationship with her. Paul didn't have to wait long for Grail to respond to him, however.

“In here."

Another room, the door across from the kitchen, though there was a fair amount of space in the open living area between the doors, allowed a wisp of steam out and he took a breath. It would not steady him, but it helped him just a little.

All Paul had to remember was that he was there to serve. He pushed open the door on her bidding, revealing Grail standing within the large shower in a large, fluffy towel. It was wrapped entirely around her, hiding her nudity from view, though there was no doubt in his mind that she was completely naked otherwise.

Damn…

_ _

He really was in hell. Grail, however, seemed to be in the process of shaving her armpits, the towel neatly tucked in across her chest so it would not come loose. The design of the bathroom made it so she was in the shower section, as if that was a separate room in itself. The frosted panes didn't hide much, however, and the stream of water had been turned off. Her hair, however, clung wetly to her head and the back of her neck, making her look even more darkly elegant and streamlined than before.

The sliding glass door blocked him from her as he walked up, not sure how closely to approach. Grail set down the silver razor on the shelf in the shower, which looked pricey, if he had an eye for such things.

“Ah, finally, servant," she said, her tone a little bored and dry. “I have a task for you."

She motioned back to her quarters, her lips pressing together as they twisted.

“I bore of the monotony of my chambers."

She said no more than that, though Paul had to focus to keep a straight face. How could she complain about being bored to him when he had to work outside all day long in the crazy heat of hell? Still, he nodded and at least tried to be sympathetic to her. That was, however, a tall order indeed when he lived in something that was practically a jail cell and she had a large suite to live in and enjoy.

“I want you and…the small demon to entertain me."

He snapped his attention back to her as she continued.

“Put on a play… One of Shakespeare's would be amenable. I care not which one you choose, but I expect you to memorise every line and create suitable costumes. Lady Blaze has a large collection of spare cloths and her library, undoubtedly, is the best in hell and on Earth."

His mind raced, simultaneously surprised by the fact that Lady Blaze had a library and that Mistress Grail wanted him to put on a show – how was that even going to work? And he couldn't just take cloth from her stores as he pleased! He had so much to do already!

“Ah, Mistress Grail," he broke in, shuffling and looking down, his stomach twisting into knots. “We have been tasked with completing the watchtower for Mistress Blaze too – this is our priority, as per Lady Blaze's orders. She said it needs to be halfway done before she returns – and it looks like we've barely started! Even though we've been toiling away each and every day… We need to keep working."

He didn't dare look up, though the argument, at the very least, seemed logical.

“If we put on a play for you and do all that work in memorising lines and creating costumes, when neither of us sew, we're never going to complete Lady Blaze's orders in time. It simply isn't possible."

Yet, when he dared look up, Grail's face had darkened in annoyance. Her lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed. It was faint, though it was noticeable.

Ah, shit.

_ _

“You cannot stop work on the tower, servant. You will perform this play in addition to your regular tasks. Seeing what you do every day, this should be no trouble to your kind at all."

Paul floundered, stuttering.

“What – Mistress Grail! I can't do that, even Jamrag can't do that! We already have far too much to do already and we have to make sure the watchtower is completed on schedule! Lady Blaze wouldn't have it any other way, these are her direct orders! Maybe… Maybe we could perform the play once we reach the halfway point on the tower, then that…"

He trailed off, sensing her thunder above him. Her height towered over him and Paul visibly shrank before her, sinking into himself as if he could hide from the supervillain who could wipe him out with a swipe of her hand. Her lips twitched as if she was holding something back, although her pulling herself up to her full height, several inches taller than Paul and him ducking down apologetically, was not really necessary.

And then he was lifted from the ground, choking, clawing at his own throat. It took him a few moments to realise Grail had her hand around his throat and was lifting him up with seemingly no effort at all. Her fingers clenched into his neck and he grabbed at her arm as his feet dangled, although there was no getting out of a grip like hers. Power radiated from her and, if he had been in another situation with Grail, Paul might have swooned and floundered in a more aroused manner.

Yet it was not to be such as he let out a hacking gargle, eyes wide and bulging. His legs swung helplessly, though he stopped himself from kicking out at Grail just in time.

“Are you refusing a direct order, servant?" She hissed through her teeth, barely parting her lips to speak. “Perhaps you do not value your life after all your time in hell…for I do not take defiance lightly. Choose your next words very carefully, or else they shall be your last."

Paul gulped and hacked, choking as she strangled him. His vision greyed out at the edges, shaking viciously, though there was nothing he could do. She loosened her grip on his throat only enough for him to talk, though that was only barely.

“Unnff… Agh…" He croaked, fighting to find words – anything to get him out of the situation he had suddenly been caught in. “No… No, Mistress… Not defying you, Mistress… Sorry… So sorry… I misspoke in my haste…"

And then his line of sight lowered, his feet coming into contact with solid ground once more, though the smooth floor of the bathroom was little consolation to him after being treated like that. Her hand left his throat and he doubled over, hacking and gasping, his eyes streaming with tears. His entire body ached with the strain of being choked, yet heaving for breath did little to nothing to help him.

His stomach churned, fear clawing its way deep into its soul, though it more often than not held his core tightly at all times anyway. It was a part of his daily life, after all, something he could never truly evade.

“I confess, I am displeased with you, servant," Grail continued, though he wished she would shut up, that it could all be done with and over. “You will need to be punished for such an egregious transgression."

Her anger, however, appeared to have abated slightly and her skin softened back to its usual, smooth, grey hue. He had not even realised she had physically darkened, though perhaps that was his eyesight returning to normal again, showing him Mistress Grail as she was. She still had the towel wrapped securely around her, but her hands were left free to cross her arms tightly over her chest. It was clear just how she was holding back.

Why did I say goddamn anything at all? Stupid!

_ _

He had little time in which to admonish himself as she stood over him, his knees having buckled. Grail looked down on him, though there was no sense of pity in her eyes.

“Hm."

Grail appeared to decide on what she wanted to do, for she was a shade less impulsive than Lady Blaze. That didn't help Paul's case in the slightest as she pulled her towel away, not caring for her exposure as she set it on a towel rail, heated by the flowing lava on the other side. The lines of her powerful, curvaceous body caught his eye when they should not have, muscle rising tantalisingly against her skin with every shift of her body.

Paul gulped hard, struggling to look away, yet he stared too openly. From the crease between her shoulder blades all the way down her back to the firm round of her glutes, he couldn't get enough of staring at her. Maybe, even in her own, twisted way, Mistress Grail was one of the things down in hell that could keep him going. Would that, ultimately, be all that bad?

Probably so, for more powerful women around him meant there was more risk of harm to him. He didn't need more people observing him and what he did daily, yet somehow the contrast between her being naked and him being clothed made him feel more vulnerable. He tugged at his sleeve as if he was trying to cover up when, really, Grail was the one showing it all.

Get it together!

_ _

She turned back to him and he yanked his gaze away forcibly, instead focusing on her thighs in his peripheral vision. Every inch of her looked like she had been hewn from marble, lovingly carved by someone who saw the beauty underneath her villainy. Or perhaps “tyranny" was the better word to use there.

Her pubic hair was put on full display to him as he blinked and let his eyes water. It was almost amusing just how much he could honestly see in his peripheral vision, looking like he was not looking while he most certainly was paying attention to her. That was an acquired skill in dealing with powerful women who could crush him. The moderate, lightly curly covering of hair didn't look bad at all against her skin, though it stood out, with the hair being very dark.

Grail selected a can of shaving cream and he twitched as the hiss of it foaming it out caught his attention. Applying a good lathering to her bush, she ensured every inch was covered in shaving cream, across her mound and between her legs too, on her labia, leaving nothing untouched.

“You should know what to do."

He had to, taking the silver razor from the shelf and only pausing for a moment to get permission from her. It was one of her belongings, after all, and he had no say in taking something like that from her. Grail, however, fully intended for him to submit and shave her as she stood there with her legs slightly apart, needing to do no more in the slightest other than wait to be shaved and served.

He washed the razor efficiently in the sink, turning it over in a running stream of warm water (he wasn't sure if he was permitted to use the cooler setting for the water) to ensure it was fully clean. Paul would have liked to take further measures, such as ensuring the blades were perfectly sharp for him to get the smoothest shave on her possible, but that wasn't doable at that time.

He just had to do the best he could, submitting to her and serving Grail as if it was the only important thing in the world to him, the only thing he was good for down there. Kneeling before her once more, he tried not to stare directly at her pussy, even though her folds being exposed was very much a distraction.

He had to check.

“Do I have permission to touch you, Mistress Grail?" He asked carefully, his throat still aching from where he'd been choked. “To complete the task. I will perform it however you please."

Her lips twitched. In his mind, she at least seemed pleased with his deference, but there was never any telling with people like that. They were a law unto themselves and Lady Blaze changed the rules practically hourly. Sometimes he thought it was to keep him on his toes, but it was most likely because Lady Blaze just wanted to entertain herself. He was yet to see her cast an undeserving demon into one of the lava pools, or bathe them in an effervescent display of her powers.

Maybe he had that going for him, at least: he would never challenge her power or authority in any way, even if he sought to escape.

Mistress Grail nodded to him and he sighed, relieved to finally have a determination on what he was or was not to do.

“You may, servant. Continue."

At least then it was obvious what he needed to do as he raised the razor gently, brushing it over her skin. He started with the front of her sex, where her mound lay and the hair that came up over her crotch. Even though he wasn't sure if it was too far or not, he rested his other hand on her skin, helping to tighten it gently so he got the best, closest shave he could. There was no point in doing a bad job and he had no idea what the margin for error on a task like that was. Usually, there was no margin available to him in the slightest.

Her skin was warm under his touch, though he was unsure whether that was the natural heat of her body or if she was too warm down in hell too. Grail didn't seem uncomfortable down there in the slightest, but he wouldn't have put it past her to hide such discomfort from a lowly servant like him.

He worked smoothly, the light rasp and pull of the razor oddly soothing him, despite the rampant pounding of his heart. It beat a clamour against the cage of his ribs and yet he had to keep it held back and in check against all the odds. Serving was the only thing he had going for him and he exhaled shortly as he concentrated fully on the task at hand.

He shaved the easy to reach part of her, fetching a damp towel to wipe off the excess shaving cream, though he had to keep returning to the sink to clear the razor of hair and rinse it off. It was almost hypnotic to see the black hairs disappearing down the drain, as if shaving was an act of cleansing in itself.

Yet he had to return to her skin and admired the smoothness of her crotch as he slowly shaved the hair from it, coming to the crease of her thigh on the right and the left. The hair, of course, did not restrain itself purely to her crotch and lightly dusted her thighs along the inside too, though that was to be expected. Body hair was nothing to be ashamed of, after all, and he was there to do a job and not judge.

He didn't know how he could judge in the slightest as he worked his way between her legs, holding down a shudder as he very gently touched her labia, working the razor along each in slow sweeps. The shaving cream helped a lot but the presence of it hid some of the hair he was trying to remove, so he was forced to go through a few cycles of gently sweeping the warm, wet towel along her labia to reveal what he had missed.

Grail, to her credit, was patient with him, which was even more terrifying than her usual demeanour. She even moved her legs apart a little for him, though otherwise appeared entirely disinterested in the task he was performing, as if she had no time for him in her day in the slightest. Her mind was clearly elsewhere as she lightly clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

Paul, however, swore he felt each and every time Grail's eyes dropped to him, surveying him coolly. It was like being locked in the gaze of a predator.

He added more shaving cream as he worked on the right side of her vulva, easing the razor around very gently. He didn't want to think what could happen to him if he nicked her, though he had no desire to harm Grail either. One thing in the world was clear there and that was his position under Mistress Grail.

There would never be any point at all in fighting that.

Still, he had to work the razor back closer to her anus too as he finished her inner thighs, breathing out as he let the razor glide over her in smooth, more practiced sweeps than before. He was confident, in that area, that he had released all the hair from the hold it had on her body.

Yet working around her vulva and a little gently between her rear cheeks had him leaning in. Paul tried his best not to be caught touching her in any other way other than what Grail had ordered, though it was a very difficult task indeed. He felt like he was so close to her that even his breath on her skin had to be aggravating her, though her labia drew his eye curiously repeatedly. They were just so soft under his fingers, although the shaving cream made them a little slippery – which was just right for the razor but not quite right for him to indulge. He was not there to be a voyeur, however, and would do well to remember that.

Finally, there was no more hair left in the slightest for him to shave from her, though a mess of shaving cream and some stray hair, having been removed, clinging to it. Grail stepped away from him, even though Paul had done an adequate job, and rinsed off in the large shower room, holding the shower head so she could point it at her crotch and between her legs. The shaving cream streamed down her muscular legs and swirled around the base of the shower, before finally whisking it and the remaining shaved hair down the drain too.

Even though Paul tried to busy himself washing off the razor in the sink and then drying it nicely with a towel so it would be clean and fresh for her next time, he couldn't resist sneaking a glimpse. Maybe that was why it seemed Grail sought him out so often: she realised his attention, his attraction to her. It should have been lessened, of course, after she'd choked him. Yet all it had left him with was mixed feelings.

Grail stepped out again and examined his work. She hummed under her breath, seemingly satisfied with her perfectly shaved vulva, though he was not such a fool as to think what she had asked of him earlier was forgotten.

“Do not think I am placated, servant," she said plainly, as if she could read his mind. “You have only begun making amends for me. I will have many more tasks for you."

He bowed his head, doing his best to be respectful, though there was a part of Paul that thought he was overthinking it too. Maybe he was. But he could only do his best and let the consequences come where they may. He'd learned a valuable lesson that day.

Nodding, he let his head hang.

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress. I understand, Mistress. I apologise sincerely for my wretched actions; I should never have questioned you. I will speak to Jamrag immediately and we will begin preparations for the play after today's work. Would it be satisfactory to you for us to perform the first act by the weekend?"

Grail raised her eyebrows and nodded.

“Words are cheap, servant. I'll see if you come through on that, or if I will be dealing with you myself. Lady Blaze surely would enjoy taking care of you herself, but I would never wish to put the silt of such a wretch on her hands."

Paul felt like there was something more going on there, though he didn't question it. He was lucky to be getting away with things as they were.

“Yes, Mistress, of course. I will do as you ask."

“You are dismissed."

Paul rose quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to be gone and out of there. The only safe place to be down there was nowhere at all near anyone else and he took that to heart as he practically ran out of there. Still, he didn't quite flee, even if he was sure they thought him a weak-willed soul. Truthfully, what Grail thought of him in that manner didn't really have any bearing. It was only if she was displeased with him that he needed to worry.

And Grail was not as easy to please as he had thought initially.

His heart rate sped up, a sick chill that didn't fit the heat of hell sinking into him. In a way, though he had no idea how far she was permitted to go in punishing him, he had most certainly escaped a horrible fate. He could have spent hours letting his imagination come up with many, many ways she could have punished him or ended his life, though that would not benefit Paul.

So, I'm not going to think about that right now. It's not worth it.

_ _

He set his jaw and took a breath, walking on shaky legs once he was out of her sight and retrieving his sack of belongings. He'd left them near the entrance to her quarters; Paul didn't honestly remember setting them down there.

How in all of hell am I going to put on a play? He thought as he headed out, striving to focus on one thing he could control. I've got to do it and I've got to get Jamrag on my side too. He'll likely obey without question, as much as he grumbled and curses and lets loose his aggressive side with me. Working with him will be shit, but at least he'll do it.

_ _

Although Paul didn't really know how he was going to pull up plays he had not honestly seen or heard since his school days, when he'd been forced to study them, he had to try. That was the only thing he could do, as much as his plight seemed hopeless. If Grail knew little the plays and was purely doing it for entertainment, perhaps his folly in trying would be enough for her.

He had to try.

At least that time, Grail had not made him clean up her bowel movement. For that, Paul could be grateful.

Vignette Two

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Day One

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“Agh!"

Harley Quinn flipped through the air, calling back on her circus training quite naturally. As an acrobat, sailing through the air just like that was really no trouble to her, giving her a sense of weightlessness that had her giggling despite the hail of powers flashing around her. Superwoman rolled her eyes, her legs bent as she dodged an attack that looked like a beam of light striking the air. That jester was ridiculous, though she had the benefit of drawing the eye.

“Wheee!"

Harley landed solidly, glancing over to where Circe was casting a spell, her hand flung out before them. Circe, Talia al Ghul and Superwoman were looking for a mirror that appeared to be stolen from Circe; well, it was called the “Mirror of Circe," so, in Harley's words, that certainly sounded like it belonged to Circe, “yessiree!"

Superwoman hated how she could hear Harley's voice in her head like that and shook herself, focusing on the fight. She couldn't let her guard down, not even for a moment. Harley grinned, standing tall with her favourite hammer held in both hands across her body.

“Time to send the Justice League packing! Shame kitty-cat isn't here today, she'd love a bout like this."

Talia rolled her eyes, though backed off as Wonder Woman approached, flying through the air where she defied the laws of gravity. That was very much something Harley would have liked to do. Imagine all the tricks she could perform if only she didn't have to come crashing back down to the ground each and every time!

“Argh!"

Wonder Woman locked arms with Superwoman, grappling back and forth as the latter bared her teeth, their feet sliding through the mud of the forest floor. In the close confines of the trees in the forest near what Harley was sure was a Justice League base, they could have been said to have the advantage – yet they could have known the area better than they did. So, really, it was a toss-up just how they'd come to be there once again.

Neither Superwoman nor Wonder Woman got an advantage, not even as Superwoman hissed through her teeth, her shoulder glancing off a tree. They left scraped bark in their wake, though Superwoman ignored anything the Justice League member had to say to her. Wonder Woman had no place of comfort in her heart, after all.

Harley flipped through the air again with her hammer, erratically duking it out with Batgirl, while Talia al Ghul struck back at Huntress, sparring intensely with her. No one seemed to give any ground, but that meant they didn't have the advantage either.

And that left Circe, Superwoman taking note of her the furthest away. She'd moved on, magic swirling around her, though it made sense that she was engaged in a magical battle with Zatanna. In a way, all of them had found their match in the Justice League as if they were all simply meant to be paired up together.

“Agh!"

Superwoman blinked – and then Circe was flying through the air. Seemingly, she'd been hit by a powerful spell from Zatanna, though Superwoman didn't have the more in-depth knowledge of magic that Circe did. Neither did she want to, more than confident with her own powers. The wind rushed through the trees and Superwoman grunted, bearing against Wonder Woman, but she wasn't even in a position to use her weight against the other woman.

Circe slammed into a rock and lay there, dazed and blinking. Superwoman sucked in a breath.

Okay, time to back out of this one.

_ _

Oh, how she loathed a retreat. It was like giving in – but she'd come to see it as “coming back another day." They'd still be able to get the strange mirror of Circe's one day, for it was not as if it was going to disappear entirely, she was sure.

“Fall back!"

She shouted, raising her voice as her black hair whipped around her. That was a side-effect from the others spell casting, how it stirred up the air as if it had been given a life of its own. Harley paused and looked at her, though Talia al Ghul was still engaged in sparring.

“We need to leave – now!" She snapped, her voice like the crack of a whip. “Everyone – now!"

They heard her that time and she lifted off from the ground as she flew over to Circe, ignoring the hail of power storming past her. She was fortunate she had avoided it, but there was no sense in hanging about when they were clearly outnumbered and Circe was injured.

“Circe! What injury do you have? Can you open a portal?"

She set down in a crouch, ducking as Harley cartwheeled through the air where she'd been a moment ago. Circe groaned and raised her head, slowly pushing herself up. Even though it was not natural for Superwoman to help anyone like that, she still held out her arm for Circe to grip and use to aid herself. It would have to do.

“Unff… Yes… Wait…"

Circe's face contorted in pain and Superwoman's heart pounded, adrenaline racing. Yet Circe swept her hand through the air, the fabric of reality cracking as a portal appeared before them. However, it was shaky and wobbled, the edges unstable, as all four of the supervillains tumbled through it.

In that sense, it was just as well that it was just the four of them as Harley took the lead, always the quickest, swiftly followed by Talia. Superwoman pushed Circe through ahead of her just in time, for the Justice League proved to be hot on their tail. The last thing they heard from the Justice League, as the portal snapped shut in a fizzling pop behind them, was a shout and something that sounded like Wonder Woman's lasso hissing through the air. It didn't make its way through the portal, however, which was only to their benefit.

“Wow, talk about a trick and a half!" Harley Quinn chirped, shaking her head and folding her arms across her chest. “I didn't think we were going to get through that one, let alone out of it."

Talia grunted, elbowing Harley, though little would get the jester to take the hint.

“Harley, shut it, we've got to regroup."

Superwoman ignored them, allowing Circe a moment in which to gather herself, though it was quite obvious already that she was injured. They would need a place to rest and recover…but where in the world were they?

She slowly took in her surroundings, though they stretched out and out and out around her, as far as the eye could see. All it looked like was rugged, barren desert with the typical orange-red sand and sweeping dunes. The wind had cut furrows into some of the dunes, yet they were not as high or as sweeping as some she had seen. Superwoman wasn't all that sure whether that was a good or a bad thing; neither did she care to know when it didn't benefit her in that moment. Regardless of what would have been more ideal, they had to deal with the environment they had.

One day, Circe will send us somewhere warm and pleasant, she grumbled inwardly. Though I cannot fault her aloud for choosing the first location her powers reached for.

_ _

Circe leaned heavily on Harley's shoulder, lips tight and pinched. At least the jester could tell when someone needed help, although she was just as likely to forget what she was doing and bounce off merrily in another direction.

We need to rest.

_ _

Casting her eyes further afield in the late-afternoon light, she caught sight of a rocky outcrop. It blended into the landscape of orange and red, but it was certainly something. They had to start somewhere and shelter for Circe had to be paramount.

Not that she felt anything for Circe, no. She was just someone else on a mission with her and there was nothing at all important in their friendship – not that it could even be called that.

“Here."

She offered her aid to Circe, who seemed to gladly take it. The spellcaster seemed to be in great pain and yet Superwoman didn't know how to acknowledge that or even help it. Yet Circe accepted her help in flying her to the rocky outcrop, which was large enough for all of them to fit inside. It was larger up close and Superwoman set Circe down gently near the rear of it, where she would be best protected from the elements. Everyone, however, knew how quickly the weather could change out there in the desert.

“Stay here," she said, feeling a little foolish, for it didn't appear that Circe was in any condition to move around on her own. “I'll…get the others."

She didn't look back as she flew away, the warm air caressing her cheeks as she flew. However, the baking heat scorched the landscape and Talia and Harley were already sweating profusely by the time she reached them. Harley, most certainly, was not used to such weather.

However, Superwoman managed to get them all well enough under the overhang. It extended back into a cave as the walls came in on the sides, though it left quite an open, vulnerable mouth, which set Superwoman on edge. She liked to be more protected, even if the open mouth meant they'd better be able to see anyone approaching too.

Circe stretched out on her back, passed out cold. Superwoman muttered under her breath, crouching once more to press her hand to her head, though the heat there could not be natural. What even was a normal body temperature for Circe? With so little knowledge of each other, it was hard to say? There didn't seem to be any blood or the like, though a magical attack could have far deeper, more insidious repercussions.

Although she didn't exactly want anything bad to happen to Circe, Superwoman had to bear in mind, at the back of her mind, that they needed someone to get them out of the desert too. No one wanted to be stuck out there with no one around.

“Make her comfortable," she said, taking the role of leader while Talia and Harley were quiet and sombre, respectively. “I'll gather supplies – but I won't be far."

She clipped her words short, reluctant to allow them even to pass her lips. A mission like that should never have gone so wrong and resentment towards the Justice League for thwarting and harming them stirred and bubbled angrily in the pit of her stomach. Flying alleviated that somewhat and she took out her anger on some trees she found, even though they were quite some distance away. At all times, she kept the rocky outcrop in sight, though the late afternoon drew on, the land around growing steadily darker.

She flew the trees back so a shelter within the sizeable cave could be made, though it wouldn't be her putting her hands to it. No, Superwoman needed to be “out there," at the very least feeling like she was doing something. Neither did she like the stirring concern in the pit of her stomach, however, how it didn't at all feel like it belonged there.

No, that's not something I'm going to think about right now.

_ _

It was much easier to bury uncomfortable things, even though the weight of them remained with her, despite her best efforts. Superwoman, however, was a woman of action and flew quickly, the warm air licking her exposed skin, though there was little of it with her particular outfit. She fetched branches and sticks from a withered scattering of vegetation; perhaps there had been an oasis there at one point, but not anymore. With the water drying up came the dying off of any vegetation that had taken root there.

All while Circe lay back in the cave, knocked out cold and helpless. Superwoman shuddered and flew a little faster, as if she was trying to run from her own thoughts. Yet it wouldn't help her feeling ill-at-ease at the notion of it being her lying there, not able to do anything to help herself.

Once firewood had been delivered, she darted back out in search of food. That was one way, at least, she could help Circe and all of them. There was simply no point in not filling their stomachs, after all. Still, she took some time to hunt and, eventually, had to acquiesce that Talia al Ghul was better suited for that job. Her powers would have made the ending of the small creature…rather messy.

Talia, however, efficiently set up a snare for the animal, which was deer-like to Superwoman even if she didn't quite know what it was. Herding the animal towards the snare was the easy part, though it was Talia's skill in hunting that caught it. Talia swiftly dispatched it as she called Superwoman back inside the cave, the fire set up near the entrance but not so far back that it would fill the entire place with smoke. That was very much not what they were looking to do there.

She was, however, a little surprised to find they had gone above and beyond in making Circe comfortable. It had to be Talia who directed most of it, but both her and Harley had managed to chop up the trees into an overhead shelter, kind of like a tent in how the trunks and branches spread out against one another in an upside-down V-shape. Secondly, they'd used the other wood Superwoman had gathered, which had ultimately been too much for their needs, and at least formed a rough-looking bed for Circe, so she didn't have to sleep on the floor. Unfortunately for them, they had little more with them other than what they had brought along, so home comforts were not easily accessible.

Superwoman said little and watched quietly as Talia skinned and cooked the small, deer-like animal. She hadn't even known there were creatures like that out in the desert, though the jury was still out on whether they were on Earth or some other planet. She almost didn't need to know, though at least they'd be able to better gather their bearings if they were on Earth. But that would have meant too that they were in the same jurisdiction as the Justice League – and no one wanted that.

“Sheesh, everyone's so quiet," Harley said, though even her usually chipper tone was more sombre that evening as the dark rolled in around them. “We got out, didn't we? Circey will be okay, in time. She just needs to sleep."

Talia smiled a little, turning the makeshift spit over the fire to evenly cook their meat on all sides. Superwoman didn't really understand the intricacies of that, though Talia seemed well-versed in looking after herself when there were not all that many resources around to help her. Someone that resourceful was good to have around.

Harley's confidence bolstered them – a little. It would have been hard to be cheery with Circe lying there unconscious, but they had to be positive too. Otherwise, another kind of darkness entirely would envelop them.

They ate quietly, saying little, and were forced to snuff out the fire as the winds picked up. Superwoman tried to stay out for as long as possible, the wind pulling at her clothes and stirring up her dark hair madly around her face, but it was impossible. Grains of sand bit her skin and she was forced to retreat deep back into the cave as a sandstorm with hurricane-level winds roared in.

Retiring for the night, she slept on her side, facing away from the group. The hard ground did her no favours as a dull ache spread slowly up her back.

Day Two

---

Sleeping on the ground had not been the best idea, even if it had been the only idea, as Superwoman rose slowly the next day. She, however, bit back a groan as she sat up and stretched out her arms above her head, her outfit uncomfortably tight around her. It was as if it was catching her in all the wrong places.

Harley and Talia woke as Superwoman checked on Circe, though there didn't seem to be any improvement.

Her powers must be working away inside her, she thought, checking Circe's temperature again and making sure she didn't look too uncomfortable. We have to let her body do what it needs.

_ _

Out there with no one else to help them, there was little else they could do. Admittedly, similar had happened to Circe in the past; Superwoman just couldn't remember a time she had been rendered completely unconscious from it. It was perhaps that part of the whole ordeal that sat the least well with her.

Still, the sandstorm raged outside and she eyed it dubiously, even though she was able to go out in it. Her powers, after all, were a shade different to Harley and Talia's own.

“Hey – hey!"

Harley poked her shoulder, hopping almost comically from foot to foot. Anyone who'd lived a life knew what that “dance" was, for it seemed universal amongst sapient creatures regardless of what planet they were on.

“Where can we go to the bathroom?" She asked, though her need was obvious as she squirmed on the spot. “I need to go, you know, number two!"

Superwoman paused, glancing towards the mouth of the cave and the snarling sandstorm. Even though she had managed to get out and urinate there, it had not exactly been comfortable at all for her. She'd been able to withstand it, of course, but no more than that. Even the sand had whipped into her eyes and she'd cursed under her breath until merely parting her lips had allowed it to get in there too.

Ugh.

_ _

Humans like Harley didn't have superpowers like her, so that wasn't something they even had the option of.

“We need to dig a trench," she said, at last deciding. “In here, but far enough away from where we are living, for now, that we don't have to deal with it. If we have a trench too, we can cover any bowel movements with sand."

She tried to be plain about what she was saying, though it still made her skin crawl uncomfortably. Being so open about bowel movements and urination simply wasn't something that came naturally to her, though she wasn't so sure why Harley and Talia had submitted to her being the leader of their small group, at least for the time being. Of course, she was the rightful choice, she never would have disputed that, but seeing them defer to her made the whole situation appear that much more serious.

And all this came about for a mirror…

_ _

She shook her head, though she could despair over that as much as she liked. Maybe the power the mirror held would be revealed to her later, though she didn't want to dig into that mentally for too much longer.

With her powers, she cut a furrow into the ground, though she was still recovering too and it was shaky. She'd chosen a spot that was sort of near the entrance, so any unpleasant odours would hopefully dissipate swiftly. Frowning at the growing, wonky trench, she set about from the beginning again, trying to even it out even as her second attempt widened it further.

“Come on…"

She growled under her breath, though there was some part of her that wanted all the lines to be even and straight and perfect – even when they didn't need to be. Bending over, she smoothed out an edge with the side of her hand, but was disrupted by a human-shaped blur rushing past her.

“Sorrygottago!"

“Huh?"

Superwoman looked up, though Harley wasn't even paying her any attention. As she rushed to squat down and pulled her trousers down, exposing herself, she groaned and bore down without even waiting for Superwoman to leave.

“I thought the whole point of this was to get some privacy, somewhere," Superwoman growled, though her words came out more exasperated than she intended them too. “Can't you wait for a few minutes.2

“Not with you taking so much time – no!"

Harley pushed down, lowering her hips as she worked on her bowel movement. Logically, Superwoman knew there was nothing really that could be done about that when someone was truly in need.

Yet Superwoman was still there and she shook her head, grunting as her cheeks heated up. How could Harley be so obvious about it? She was simply so blatant, as if she wanted everyone to know what she was doing!

“Harley, is this strictly necessary?"

She growled the words out under her breath, though Harley was too caught up in what she was doing, completely ignoring her. Superwoman folded her arms across her chest, though there was really no place for embarrassment with her. It was all down to Harley, she told herself. If Harley wanted to go to the bathroom in public, she could bear the weight of that on her own shoulders, one way or the other.

Yet it was obvious that Harley had really needed to go as she grunted and forced out a swift, two-inch wide poop. It teased its way from her in a sense that made it look like it took an awful lot of effort – yet Superwoman was no stranger to that herself too.

That first log of poop plopped down into the trench, thankfully mostly falling into it. What didn't land in the trench rolled down the side into the middle, so it lay, more or less, along the length of the trench. Of course, it remained at a slight angle regardless and there was nothing to be done about that.

Even though her eyes lingered on the poop for too long, Superwoman took a breath and dragged her eyes away. Still, she noted it had topped out at around sixteen-inches, even though it was hard to judge size just like that.

Humans typically had smaller bowel movements than people like her, though she couldn't deny that she was ever so slightly impressed by just how much Harley could put out. At the same time, she was ever so slightly sympathetic about Harley's plight, for that poop must have caused her some discomfort before Harley had finally found a way to go to the bathroom.

Harley, however, wasn't done with that first log of poop. Two more swiftly followed, working their way from her in a smooth slide. They landed quickly, though they were about the same width, which meant they had to be difficult for Harley to push out in the first place.

Superwoman glanced back as Harley excreted those two poops too, which were much darker in shade and crackled along the surface. Even from her position, she could tell that they were much harder than the first poop, which at the very least was a golden-brown. That first sixteen-inch long poop seemed to be of a medium firmness, though that was the kind of thing that was difficult to tell from sight along. Not that Superwoman had any intention at all of getting any closer than she had to.

The two poops she'd pushed out after that first were smaller, about five and seven inches respectively. Harley, however, wasn't done yet as she shifted her stance a little, though it was unclear whether she was trying to get comfortable or not. The last of the batch ended up at nine inches, a little curve running down the length where Harley adjusted the stance of her hips partway through pooping. It was the hardest, clearly and a very dark brown.

Superwoman hid her sympathy.

“Are you done yet?" She asked, a hand going to her hip. “You are the one who was so eager to relieve yourself – and now the trench is not even dug properly!"

It felt like one small thing she could control, though that was just part of the situation. However, Harley merely groaned and shook her head, a low grunt breaking her lips.

“Noooo, I think the next one is huuuuuuuge!" She exclaimed, dragging out the word for much longer than was strictly necessary. “It's stretching me already!"

“Ugh…"

Superwoman rolled her eyes. There was no point in even dignifying that one with an answer. Harley Quinn was going to be Harley Quinn – and, in a way, it was reassuring to see that some things never changed.

Ignoring Harley the best she could, she turned her back on her and went back to work at the other end of the trench. Yet it was still rather difficult not to take in her working on what seemed to be the thickest log of waste to come from her yet. Harley grunted and almost made a show of it, bobbing her hips as she swayed in place. It was just like the jester, even then, to hunt for attention.

It took Harley some time as Superwoman carved out a leveller section of the trench, anticipating their bodily needs, but she managed in time. The next log of waste worked its way slowly from Harley as if it had a mind of its own, one minute turning into two and then three.

“Oof!"

Superwoman glanced over as Harley finally signalled that she was done, wriggling her hips and obviously giving a rather big sigh of relief. The final poop topped out as the largest yet, easily twenty inches. Superwoman made a strange sound in the back of her throat, but otherwise merely took a quick look at what Harley had produced. It was obviously the largest yet, but it even seemed wider than the others, though that was difficult to say. If she looked closely, it could have been three inches width, but maybe Superwoman was overstating it a little.

It had to be the maximum width, at the very least, that Harley could ever have produced, but that was not for Superwoman to determine. With a roll of her eyes, she kept a vague eye on Harley as the jester re-dressed herself and cleaned up appropriately.

Yet Harley had a weird quirk and that came as she turned and looked down, letting out a whistle as she checked out everything she'd produced.

“Heyyyyyy, not bad! I'm super-duper proud of that last log, wow!"

Superwoman couldn't help but furrow her brow, though she ignored Harley. There was no need to respond to her, for Harley would continue on regardless of her response or lack of.

“Cover everything when you go, no one wants to see that out there. Over there, there's a shovel."

Of course, it was a rather rudimentary, carved shovel, considering the situation they were in, but it was more than good enough to cover up the poop in the trench. Harley pouted and fussed for a moment, but at least obliged to scoop up the sand at the end of the trench where she'd gone to the bathroom.

Superwoman checked quickly to make sure she did a good enough job, though a thick layer of sand hid the poop from view. However, it was clear that the trench, to them, was for relieving themselves, which was by the by. They would just have to be adults about it.

As she didn't need to relieve herself further, Superwoman busied herself with collecting more wood and supplies, even a bit more than they needed. As the day wore on, it was well into the afternoon before Circe woke up.

She was weak and Superwoman crouched beside her while Talia kept Harley from crowding her too much. A quick recap of what had happened was due, even though it turned out that Circe didn't know where she'd transported them to.

“Well, that's a bind, but the place is hospitable enough for us, for now," Talia said, shaking her head. “Glad to hear your voice again, Circe."

“We bandaged you all up," Harley added, though it was obvious where the bandages lay over Circe's injuries, where a rush of bruising had flooded to the surface of her skin. “And we made a shelter! Sorry the bed's so hard…"

“Mm… That is fine," Circe breathed, barely raising her voice above a whisper, though there was more colour in her cheeks than before. “Thank you…for caring for me."

Her energy slipped and she raised her hand, though her fingers shook terribly. Calling magic to her, for Superwoman had seen her do it more than enough times to know what was going on there, Circe strained to open a portal. Yet the magic flickered from her and fizzled out as she slumped back into the bed, eyelids fluttering as if it even took the energy from her to merely sit up.

“Oof… No… no, I can't…"

“Your body is using all its energy to heal," Superwoman cut in, matter-of-factly, before Circe could try again. “You need to rest for now and we will stay here until you heal enough to take us all back somewhere safe."

Circe nodded, for it was the only reasonable thing they could do.

Day Three

---

Superwoman woke early, the need to relieve her bowels stirring inside her. The discomfort sat heavily and she felt ever so slightly bloated too, as if there was a bit of gas grumbling away inside her too. That was easily rectified, however, as long as she took care of pooping quickly, though she hoped she would have a great deal more of a private time in which to go to the bathroom. Hanging out with someone like Harley Quinn when she needed to go to the bathroom most certainly wasn't the kind of peaceful experience Superwoman had in mind – whether it was going to the bathroom or otherwise.

Still, Harley was not so bad, even if she was something of an acquired taste.

Being stuck in the cave, however, was so tedious and she could understand why Harley was practically bouncing off the walls. Superwoman, however, rose quietly and slipped past the others out of the shelter, treading carefully as she crept past Harley and Circe. They were, thankfully, both sleeping soundly.

The trench near the entrance was lit up by the morning sun and she exhaled softly, even though there was already someone there. Of course, she'd noticed that Talia was missing from the shelter when she'd woken up, but that had not been all that much of a concern of hers. There was nowhere Talia could have gone really, even though the sandstorm outside had dropped.

Squatting down low, Talia quietly worked on her bowel movement and Superwoman dithered. She'd really wanted a private moment all to herself, but it seemed that she was not destined to have even that. Even though it was sunny outside, Superwoman was not all that tempted to head out either, considering how windy it was out there still. Getting grit and grains of sand in both her mouth and her eyes hadn't encouraged her when it came to the natural environment they were stuck in.

Plus, it was not as if there was anywhere to wash sand out of her suit and she didn't want that getting into some even more sensitive areas.

The mouth of the cave protected them from the worst of the wind while they were still in there, though Superwoman noted a little later that Talia was only dressed in a bra. States of nudity were pretty common between them, though Superwoman's body warmed a little at the sight of her. She wasn't so sure that was embarrassment, but it certainly came with a modicum of discomfort that she had to pay attention to.

“Morning," Talia said quietly, not raising her voice as if she was still somewhat sleepy. “Quieter out here."

“Mm."

Even though she'd wanted peace, it was not so bad to have to go to the bathroom with Talia nearby. Talia nodded to the space next to her and Superwoman took the hint to come over.

Lowering the bottom of her suit and tugging it to the side enough for her to expose her buttocks, she focused on doing what she needed to do – without thinking too much about it at the same time.

“I was trying to get out here before Harley woke up," Talia said quietly, barely even raising her voice to a whisper. “She doesn't…usually bother me, but she can be a lot when it comes to bathroom stuff. Have you noticed that too?"

Superwoman made a face and nodded.

“Yes, I've definitely seen that," she grumbled. “I absolutely agree. I would have given you privacy too but I was a bit desperate. I'm sure you understand."

“Oh, definitely."

Talia waved her off.

“Don't worry about that, I understand," Talia added. “All I want is a bit of quiet – but that just means a little less Harley."

They spoke slightly ill of the jester, though it was hard when they were forced to be in such close confines with each other. Even if they didn't have such strong personalities, it would have been difficult.

Even though she wasn't trying to look, Superwoman couldn't help but catch sight of a small, five-inch poop already underneath Talia al Ghul. Talia was in the middle of expelling what looked to be a particularly hard log, though a lot of that was speculation on Superwoman's part. When they were all in such close quarters with each other, they got to see a lot more than they bargained for.

“Unff…"

The breathy grunt Talia let out was barely audible, although Superwoman still caught it. It looked like she was working very hard on that second poop, which was quite thick and bumpy, the length of it easing from her tediously.

Talia grunted again and Superwoman settled down to finally go to the bathroom. It was exactly what she'd needed in the first place, so she had to focus. She exhaled and slowly pushed out the first log, though it didn't feel too big that time. She didn't check her waste like Harley, so got to work immediately on the next, letting the set of her hips move ever so slightly lower.

Talia, however, seemed to be having a much more difficult time, as a string of rather rude curse words broke her lips.

“Unff… Agh, damn it…fucking…shit…poop… For fuck's sake…"

Her curses grew increasingly severe as she bore down, her face taking on a red hue as her skin glistened faintly with a sheen of perspiration. Superwoman winced faintly in sympathy, though it was not as if she could do anything about it in that moment. Or any other moment, of course, when it cam to pooping and sharing space like that.

Yet she couldn't help feeling a little bad for her when it was so obvious Talia was having a tricky time about it.

Talia exhaled a rush of breath as she bore down, though she could only do one thing. It had to come out of her, one way or the other, so she less than quietly concentrated on her task.

It didn't even look like Talia noticed Superwoman quietly watching her, so focused was she on the task at hand. Superwoman twitched, feeling another log working its way out from her, though it ground from her with a little more effort that time.

Still, it came out more quickly than she'd expected, despite her being ever-aware of its weight and feel pushing from her body. She tried her best not to squeeze down on it even as she pushed it from her body, exhaling and taking a moment to compose herself. Going to the bathroom was a difficult thing from time to time, but at least she didn't have to spend too much effort that time. At least, that was what Superwoman thought.

It was out of her in only a few seconds, dropping into the sand with a very soft “plop." There was a light hissing of sand rushing to fill in the space it disturbed in the trench, but that wasn't really all that much of Superwoman's concern.

“Unff… Ah, fuck! What the hell is wrong with this fucking piece of…"

“Are you okay, Taila?"

She didn't mean to cut in and interrupt Talia, but the moment felt right. Well, more so that she couldn't just crouch there and pretend to not be able to hear what the other supervillain was saying. Talia eyed her, though didn't say anything for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together and a decidedly pinched expression on her face.

With ten inches of a dark, hard log of poop sticking out of her butt, she was still not finished. Talia, however, managed to nod, even though Superwoman shook her head lightly at the hard bumps and lumps evident along the length of her poop. It wasn't something she was either interested in or even wanted to look all that closely at, though it didn't feel like there was any choice in that matter at that moment.

They were in it together and they were working together, in a way. Still, they were more than familiar with each other and at least comfortable with each other's presence. That was not something Superwoman would have considered happening before, though there was most certainly a sense of having a “tribe" around her that she rather liked.

“Thanks for your concern," she said quietly, though she didn't raise her voice anymore still. “It's not all that bad."

Talia, however, still struggled next to Superwoman, making the latter feel ever so slightly bad that her own bowel movement had been so comparatively easy.

“Unff… Nearly there…"

It spoke to their comfort with each other that Superwoman didn't think anything less of her for fighting with her bowel movement like that. They fought side by side in battle and had come to work together in ways that Superwoman would never before have anticipated.

It was not a bad thing.

She, however, did her best not to chuckle at the stream of brutal expletives bursting from Talia's lips. Wow, she had a filthy mouth.!

One, final push left Talia blistering red in her face and grunting – but the poop finally dropped from her. It broke off at fourteen-inches and dropped heavily to the sand, right in the middle of the trench. Yet no one could have predicted that a fart would break from Talia at the same time, the rippling blast of wind cutting through the air in a way that could not be ignored.

As she farted heavily, Talia's head shot up, more heat still searing through her cheeks and down her neck. It was not something that could be concealed and Superwoman grimaced as the fart puttered and sputtered, as if it was going to fizzle out. Yet a whining note entered it as it finally died down, though it took right to the end of the fart for the volume to finally die down.

“Uh… Oh."

Talia shifted her weight, clearly uncomfortable at last. Superwoman wished there was something she could do to make the moment better, although she didn't know whether to say something or try to reassure her… Things like that simply didn't come naturally to her.

“I hope no one woke up. They're not that close," she whispered, though it was clear that Talia was more concerned about the aftereffects of breaking wind rather than the obscenely loud fart. “It was an accident!"

“It's okay, don't worry about it."

At least those words came easily to her as Superwoman tried to concentrate again, though a tiny bubble of amusement flittered through her. It was not a laughing matter, however, and Superwoman could not even remember a time when she had ever been that light-hearted. It had just been so random and “out there" that she hadn't known how to respond. Talia had that covered, however, which was something.

She worked on her final log, which slid smoothly from her. Her brow furrowed in a brief twitch – but only for a moment. That was strange in how it felt thicker, like it was stretching her out, but it wasn't something that poked at her mind too badly. She was merely glad that she could focus on relieving herself and not have to worry about anything else.

Still, the pressure from the sheer width of the poop she was working on was noticeable, almost making her feel as if she needed to drop her hips a little lower too. Still, it fell nicely and grunted as it was released from her body, not letting it weigh on her for a single moment longer. It was good to have that sense of comfort back in her body, her stomach already feeling a lot more settled than it had been before.

Humming lightly under her breath, she stood and cleaned up, tugging her suit back into place and making sure that everything was in order. She was meticulous, of course, about making sure it lay flat along her stomach and abdomen in particular, not wanting a single crease to be tugged up, nothing out of place.

Logically, she turned to check what she had produced, for the sake of her health. There was no more meaning to it than that, though the mere sight of her own waste had her flushing with heat, embarrassment clawing at her.

“Oh…"

The exclamation was too quiet to be heard openly, though Superwoman wasn't thinking about that in the slightest. How could she have produced so much poop? They lay there, out in the open for all to see, yet Superwoman still made herself pause so she could take in what she needed. Poop was an excellent indicator of health, after all, and out there it was one of the few ways they had to monitor themselves.

There were three large logs, of course, but they were larger than what the humans produced. The first was thinner than the others and seemed soft, squashing down gently into the sand that it sat on. It was about eighteen-inches long, which she thought was about standard for her.

Yet the second had been a little more pressing, despite how quickly she'd expelled it. Whereas the first log of poop, lying there with the sand sifting in around it, had been softer, that one was a little harder again but obviously an inch and a half in width. No wonder it had felt a little weightier to her when she'd been pushing it out! Even though it was a little firmer, it would still very much have been classed as “soft" and easy to excrete at twenty-five inches.

It was the final poop that drew her eye the most, for it was one of the largest she could ever remember excreting. Not that it was all that bad, considering her body had easily been able to handle it, but at thirty-one inches (at a rough guess), she could barely believe she'd excreted it. It was by far the hardest of all three poops and so firm that it stuck up partway out of the trench. Of course, the width of the trench had not accounted for a poop that large when being pooped out across the width of it, but Superwoman could still make do with that.

The end of it poking out of the trench looked out of place, however, and she pursed her lips, expression twisting. Just having that one, huge poop there made Talia's much more respectable six and fourteen-inch long logs look absolutely miniscule in comparison!

Okay, I just have to cover everything up now and it'll be okay.

_ _

She tried not to think about it or worry as she reached for her powers, feeling the warm flicker of them trailing through her body as she went to cover up her poop. However, it should have come to no surprise to her that Talia had already leapt into action and had the shovel in hand. As if it was all the most normal thing in the world to her, she swiftly scooped up sand with the shovel, sifting it over her own poop.

Superwoman faltered as Talia did her work, for the other supervillain was swift to pass the shovel over to her. Yet it seemed that Talia had not noticed just how large Superwoman's poop was and her eyes widened sharply as they dropped – and then darted right back up to Superwoman's face once more.

Superwoman cleared her throat, though she couldn't really blame Talia for noticing, despite the fact that it was all pretty embarrassing for her. Traitorous heat rushed to her cheeks as she hastily shovelled sand over her bowel movements, going for the largest one first. It still took a good few more scoops of sand to hide the monster of a poop completely as her stomach churned in sheer embarrassment.

It was all something they had to go through and yet she couldn't stop herself from feeling embarrassed like that with her poop on show and needing so much more sand just to hide it from view again. She prodded the last log with the shovel so it rolled down into the trench, for she could not pile the sand up high enough to conceal it from view otherwise. She had to be modest about her waste, after all, even though there were certain others in the group who would leave their bowel movements out in the open without a second thought.

“Thanks for keeping me company," Talia said with a slight smile, though there was more to it than that. “It's nice to have some quiet conversation from time to time too."

“Maybe there'll be more of it when Circe is back to full strength again," Superwoman offered, although making an overture like that didn't come naturally to her. “We still have that mirror to acquire."

Talia nodded, though Superwoman still caught her glance back as they headed from the room, as if she though she'd still see the giant poop poking up ostentatiously from the sand, making itself known to everyone. Superwoman could have covered everything up just a little more, but it was still enough. Maybe she would return later to add more sand with a sweep of her powers, but the shovel had done them well enough too, at the very least.

She would be exceptionally glad when Circe was ready to take them home – or at the very least, out of the desert.

Day Four

---

On the fourth day, Superwoman and Talia, exploring, came to find that the back of the cave was on the thinner side.

“Look at this."

Taila leaned in close to the back wall, rapping on it with her knuckles. It echoed a little more than it did in other spots, hinting that it was thinner. One may have considered it “hollow" – and that could have been so, if there was another cavern on the other side.

Superwoman poked at the wall, trailing her hands over it, letting them mould to the shape of every tiny shift in the grain of the stone, every single crevice. When she hit a dip that seemed to sink further into the rock than before, she crouched to inspect it.

“Hm… And there's an opening here, but tiny."

Superwoman peered through, though even cupping her hands around her face and using her powers to create a light didn't let her see all that much. But that was no matter. She had more than enough strength at her disposal to easily break through.

Taking a step back, she slammed the flats of her hands into the wall, sending a surge of energy through her body. After so long with her powers, using them simply came naturally to her, though it was invigorating each and every time.

CRACK!

_ _

The wall split and crumbled, rumbling as debris tumbled down, all into a messy pile of rocks. And that had barely forced her to dip into her powers, Talia taking a step away and shaking her head.

“There were probably quieter ways to do that."

Superwoman shrugged.

“Oh, it's not so bad," she said easily. “Look, we're through now – and we can see what's on the other side."

That far back in the cave, far from the mouth, there was little light, so Talia lit a short branch, where the end had been dipped in an oily substance. Superwoman didn't know much about that, but Talia seemed to have a handle on using things to survive that didn't require powers like hers. It was something Superwoman would do well to take in mind if she was ever rendered helpless with her powers bound or similar. Having more tricks at her disposal was always a good thing.

That wasn't something she was happy to say aloud, however, still keeping that part of herself held back, tucked away. She would not be too open with the others, though it was clear even to her they'd grown closer over time.

That was something she'd think about another time. They had a cave to explore.

“Oh…"

She moved deeper into the cave, keeping a wary lookout with Talia at her side. Yet there was no danger in there for either: only a calmly flowing underground river. It was set down into the rock a little with a smooth base. Where it was shallower, Superwoman dipped her hand into it, letting her fingers trail across the base that had been worn so smooth with the passage of water over many, many years. It was amazing what such a malleable force could do, yet it still always took the path of least resistance.

“Ah, this is exactly what we need," Talia said, near glowing at the prospect of having a bath. “I'm going to get the others, Circe will be so grateful for this too."

Vaguely, Superwoman noted how Talia's attention went to Circe, caring for her as one of their own. They really had banded together into a strange little group there.

“Yes," Superwoman acquiesced, sighing lightly at the prospect of getting out of her outfit and getting everything nice and clean again. “Let's get them, then we can do what is sorely needed by this point."

She didn't want to think about the odour she was giving off as she called through Harley, though Talia went to get Circe.

“Whaaaaat? Water? Oh, my gawd, this is the most amazing thing ever!"

Harley Quinn squealed and flipped head over heels, bursting into a display of flips and twists: feats of acrobatic prowess that just looked like tricks to Superwoman. Of course, the human couldn't do things like fly so maybe that was her version of that, finding freedom in her own way, although Superwoman still didn't very much care for shows like that. Her powers were so very much more sublime and useful, at least in her opinion.

No one, however, had asked for her opinion. So, she kept quiet, merely patiently grateful for the water.

“Oh…"

She backed off, however, when Harley's arms wrapped around her, the hug entirely too close for comfort. A similar hug startled at least a laugh from Talia, though the jester was off again, ripping off her clothes and struggling to get her top over her head. It caught on her pigtails as she wrestled with it, though it could have been said that Harley had the least clothing on of all of them. Yet it was still somewhat the most uncomfortable of them all, at least from merely looking at it.

It was up to her what she wore, however, and Superwoman grimaced a little as Harley tumbled into the water to bathe. Further down the underground river, towards the centre of the cavern, the water flowed a little more deeply, allowing Harley to immerse herself, though the splashing overcame the otherwise tranquil atmosphere of the cavern.

Superwoman sighed.

“Maybe I should have taken a dip before Harley came in…"

Of course, that wouldn't have worked; Harley would have still heard the cavern wall collapsing and come over regardless. But she could dream of peace and quiet – and would certainly need some of that for herself when they were out of that situation.

The river flowed slowly, at least, so there was no danger of being swept away. Superwoman did, however, check out the end of it, ensuring the opening under the surface, where it flowed under the rock into the next cave, was not so large that they could become lost in there. Thankfully for them, it was small enough that not even the shorter Harley could be drawn through.

“Ahhhh… That's the stuff!"

Butt naked, Harley floated briefly on her back and then splashed around to float upright again. The river was a few metres wide at its greatest point with plenty of room for all of them in there. Yet the splashing water sprayed forth by Harley spritzed everywhere, leading Superwoman to back off and check on Circe.

Circe was still too weak to walk competently to the river, so Superwoman did as she had when transporting her to the shelter in the first place and carried her. It was odd to have the other woman pressed against her in such a manner, but she tried not to overthink it. Maybe if she did so, others would come to do the same for her too.

Hopefully, she wouldn't ever end up in the same situation was Circe, however, for being weak was most certainly not something she anticipated.

“Here, let me help."

The oddly gentle note in her tone settled easier once she had Circe at the river, considering it no more than business-like in how she went about it. Circe obligingly lifted her arms as high as she could get them, though there were still some injuries running down her back that restricted her movement. Getting her long robe-like attire off was easier with it being a little looser, though her belt had to be undone.

Her undergarments were easier to remove and a little more familiar to Superwoman, even if it was too intimate to be removing them for Circe. Circe blushed a little as Superwoman slid down her panties, though they handled everything as respectfully as possible.

Rocks layered through the river at one end proved to be an excellent perch for Circe, where she could lean back against a small cliff-like protrusion at the side of the river too. It was stable enough for her, with her lower half under the water and her top half above the surface, though it meant her breasts were fully exposed.

They would have to get used to that very quickly, but it was not all that strange a thing, considering the situations they all seemed to get themselves caught up in. The wooden bowls they'd carved so they could eat a little easier and transport things helped Circe in that moment, as the spellcaster scooped up water in the bowl and poured it over herself, soaking her hair. Superwoman's eyes lingered on how the water droplets flowed down Circe's body and over her breasts.

It was wrong to stare too hard, however, and she busied herself with undressing. Stripping off her outfit, piece by piece, she slipped into the water and laid her suit on a rock near the river so she could turn to the task of washing it off soon. There were layers of grime and grit in her outfit that she hadn't even known existed…

No matter, however: she would see everything put to rights. Talia followed suit in undressing, once Circe was comfortably situated, revealing her bare skin and muscled body.

“Fresh water here is a blessing," she murmured, taking a carved cup and taking a long drink from the source end of the river. “I wish we'd known about this days ago."

“It's likely pure but we should boil it first," Superwoman cut in, though Talia rolled her eyes and nodded.

Even though Talia knew Superwoman was right, it was a point of caution that the moment didn't really call for.

She slipped into the deepest part of the water, which came up to her shoulders, and smoothly dunked her head under the water. The water was fairly pure and she didn't feel uncomfortable at all opening her eyes under the surface, blinking a few times to clear the strain and fuzziness from her vision. Harley's legs, a little distance away, greeted her, and Talia was easy to spot. Unfortunately for Talia, she was within splashing distance of Harley – as demonstrated when Harley's legs suddenly flailed and she lunged obviously, the water churning up around her.

Superwoman blinked, strangely enjoying the view of the other supervillains: there was even Circe's legs furthest away, where they dangled off the ledge where she was situated. They looked so pale and dim under there, though even her view under the water was mutated by the dancing, flickering light of the flaming makeshift brazier Talia had set into the wall. There were a few of them, in fact, their flames leaping and dancing as they glanced off the surface of the water, though the cavern itself was still rather dim.

She rose again and swept her soaked hair back from her head, the weight of the water holding it down against her head and the back of her neck. She must have looked like a drowned rat, but she was no better than Talia as she went to work scrubbing down her lean, strong arms, working her nails against her skin as if she could tear every last bit of grit and the like from her form.

Her suit would need washing too, though there was only so much Superwoman could do as her eyes roamed. She shifted over, feeling the weight of the water pushing back against her, to a spot where the water only came up to her midsection, which allowed her to move and wash a little easier. It meant she was more exposed, but that was not such a bad thing, at least, when she was with people she was starting to trust.

Maybe. She still wasn't all that sure about that.

Regardless, she washed off the best she could as she eyed up Talia and her muscular body. She really was a fit human, to say the least of it, with strong thighs and a tapered point of muscle coming down to her knees. Her buttocks were, most likely, the most defined by muscle out of all of them, though it was difficult for Superwoman to compare that to herself. She looked like she could take on half the universe and win without breaking a sweat.

She couldn't help but notice that Talia had no pubic hair, which stood out in contrast to Circe and Harley, who both had full bushes of hair. Harley's was probably the wildest, though Circe appeared to have trimmed hers at some point, judging by how it grew in. It was tricky to say when it was wet, however, as that always made the hair sit a little differently on a naked body.

“Wow, you really have big tits, Talia!"

Of course, that had to be Harley being completely overt about things, when she could have been quiet about it. Superwoman grimaced, wondering if she even had a filter. Probably not.

Talia angled herself away and blinked, though a little heat rose to her cheeks.

“Harley," she said, far too patiently. “You know it's rude to stare."

Harley, however, shrugged.

“Okay, well, we're all naked and girls here, so I really don't see what the problem is," she shot back, and there really was no issue there, truly. “Those knockers are huge! What size are you?"

Talia rolled her eyes and huffed, blowing out air as her cheeks popped out, however briefly.

“Forty-double-D," she said in a short, clipped tone. “Will you leave me alone now?"

“Nope!"

Of course, Harley checked out Circe too and wolf-whistled.

“Good to see you up and about, Circey! You're looking great! Your boobs aren't as big as Talia's, but still awesome!"

“Are those the only kind of compliments you know how to give, Harley?" Superwoman said dryly, though that only turned the jester's attention to her. “You bounce around here with far too much energy. Maybe you should be the one going out hunting, if you weren't so loud that you'd scare away all the prey in a heartbeat."

“Mm, yeah, compliments are compliments," Harley said, not really answering the question. “I dunno what else you expect me to talk about when everyone's naked, it's totally normal."

Maybe it was normal to Harley, but Superwoman still saw it as out of place.

“And you've gotten laser, yeah?" Harley added, pointing at Talia's crotch. “There's no way you could be that smooth after four days here otherwise!"

“Yeah, that's right," Talia said. “It's not as uncomfortable as people might think to have done. Just a lot of lying there, being bored while it's happening."

“I wouldn't do that, but I get waxed sometimes," Harley offered, digging a little too much into personal information there. “I like to do different things with it. Get bored myself otherwise!"

“I can imagine…"

Superwoman's muttered amusement under her breath, at the very least, went unnoticed as Harley eyed up her instead.

“Your boobs are definitely bigger than mine," she declared, grabbing her own as if to make a point, “but not bigger than Talia's. Damn, I don't think I have the smallest boobs here! Do I? Do I?"

Circe grunted and rolled her eyes, though a flicker of amusement burned in them, her eyes creasing slightly with mirth at the corners.

“Well, what would you say if you had the smallest breasts?" Circe teased gently, though her voice was still breathy and quiet. “Maybe you could go steal a bra that makes yours look even larger."

It was out of character for Circe to be quiet that forward, though it fit the situation as a startled laugh burst from Superwoman's lips. Harley pouted and muttered something about “stealing boobs" if she really wanted new ones, but no one really knew what that meant.

Superwoman eyed up Harley while the villain was side-on to her, which meant she could look her over curiously and uninterrupted. Harley had a rather nice pair of breasts, but it was hard to get a gauge on their size when Harley was constantly in motion. They bounced with every shift of her body, as if they simply didn't want to stay in place on her chest. Her nipples were lighter than the others, however, and her pubic hair was, of course, blonde like her hair.

She was lean and petite, though the agile nature of her was impossible to ignore, what with how she flipped through the air as if gravity meant nothing to her. Her buttocks seemed to have a little more of a layer of fat over them, which made them seem just as bouncy and jiggly as her breasts were in movement. Who knew that washing oneself off (Harley hadn't even got to washing her clothes) took so much movement?

“Tal-Tal, come here!"

Superwoman watched as Talia turned, her eyes humoured but still ever so slightly distrustful. And just what the heck was that nickname anyway? She wasn't going to question it.

Talia's powerful body rippled with muscle, though she didn't have as broad shoulders as Circe. Her breasts took pride of place on her chest, round and perky. Age certainly had not caught her yet, though that was not for Superwoman to judge. Her abs were visible too, denoting just how lean and powerful her body was, just how low of a percentage of body fat she carried. Having a little more weight on their bodies, as villains, was often better for them physically – although that was difficult to maintain. In Superwoman's case, using her powers took up a lot of energy and required greater food consumption too.

Talia's smooth crotch was rather appealing, however, and Superwoman eyed her own pubic hair. She'd just trimmed it down quite short last time, so it was in a sort of in between stage, growing out to a lengthier stage again. Like her hair, it was dark; Talia's was similar in colour.

“I am running an experiment!"

Harley announced it as if it was something the others should have been clapping for, Talia halfway through picking up a bowl that had been dropped in the water.

“And what is your experiment?" Superwoman asked, noting her attention on Talia. “We must know."

Talia glared at her, though Harley missed it.

“I want to find out how my boobs compare to other boobs! I need to feel and touch…and I need test subjects! Tal-Tal!"

Talia groaned and crossed her arms.

“Honestly, Harley…"

Superwoman rolled her eyes.

“That's not a real experiment, you should know that."

But nothing would dissuade Harley and, really, Superwoman was, in some way, playing along with her. It was funny to see her with all her attention on Talia, though she was at least a little glad she'd avoided Circe for the moment.

Superwoman ducked under the water again to rinse off while Harley fussed with “Tal-Tal." Yet she took that moment to let her gaze rake up Circe's legs once more, so pale under the dim surface of the water. It was almost ethereal, as if she was a water sprite – though Circe likely wouldn't have liked to be referred to in such a way.

Her legs had a little more curve to them, especially around her plumper thighs. Superwoman couldn't honestly have said she'd looked at Circe in that way before, though a strange curiosity about other bodies had gripped her of late. And there was no harm in looking, after all, so she did.

Her eyes, while she was still underwater, roamed up to Circe's crotch and her full bush, though she eyed the curve of her buttocks too. They seemed to press out a little where she was sitting, hinting at a comfortable layer over her glutes that gave her a more softly, feminine shape. She looked like she might have been nice to hold, though there was not so much softness to her that the smooth line and curve of her waist was covered up, which Superwoman appreciated. She, however, was only ogling them, knowing her opinion meant truly little in the grand scheme of things. At the bare minimum, she understood there was far more to a body than simply how it looked.

However, Superwoman couldn't stay underwater for too much longer and rose with her head breaking the surface again.

Still, she continued her observation, though Circe's breasts pulled down very lightly under their weight. It could have been something about her position, however, that made them look heavier than they were. For Circe would not have usually hunched forward quite like that with a little round in her shoulders, her body still clearly lined with pain. Despite the bandages, no injuries were exposed. However, that said nothing for the internal injuries, for magical wounds cut deep.

She let her eyes trail over Circe's back, bending forward again to scoop up another bowlful of water. She moved more easily than she had before, yet Superwoman could tell that there were still restrictions in her body that needed to be treated, as she wasn't quite as fluid as she usually was. Circe, however, had a habit of hiding her pain, which would not serve them well. There was still definitely something sensual about her in her quiet, commanding presence, though the light outline of her ribcage showed through her back as she bent over.

I think her wide hips might be my favourite part of her, Superwoman decided, although it was a very subjective opinion. Harley has a nice, narrow waist and a lean look after her. Talia's breasts… Harley is certainly right about their size. They could be my favourite there.

_ _

“Okay, well, we'll ignore miss-miss anti-science over there!"

Superwoman rolled her eyes as she snapped back to what Harley was talking about, face to face with Talia. Harley poked out her tongue at her, though Superwoman merely raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, okay…" Talia said at last. “I'll participate. Just stop calling me Tal-Tal, that is so annoying."

Harley brightened instantly.

“Okie-dokie! This is alllll purely scientific, yes! For the sake of science!"

No one would have honestly trusted Harley as a scientist, but it was one of those situations where there was little that could be done there to stop her. When it was harmless, it was best to let her get on with whatever had lodged itself into her brain at that time.

However, no one could have expected Harley to grab Talia's breasts with that much vigour, squeezing them so hard that her fingers forced the flesh to bulge out between them. Talia yelped but Harley only tutted at her and rolled her eyes.

“Ooooh, it's going to take me a while to get a scientific reading on these!"

“Ow – Harley, not so hard!"

Talia squirmed in place, making as if to pull away – but that would have disrupted Harley. Superwoman was merely glad it wasn't her involved there, although it could just as easily have been. Perhaps Harley thought Talia was an easier target, though she could not have said why. Harley didn't seem to pick her targets wisely but always came through alright in the end.

“Hm… They're softer than mine…" Harley commented, giving a running commentary on everything as she massaged and kneaded Talia's breasts. “Tal-Tal… They move so much more than mine too! That must be the size, though I've got a nice pair of tits too, even if I'm the one saying it!"

“Oof, just get on with it, Harley…"

Talia blushed as Harley moved her tits around, squeezing them together and running her fingers over them. Yet she squeezed once more and took a firm grip, her hands covering Talia's nipples. She seemed to move her hands in a lightly rolling, kneading motion over her breasts, though Talia grimaced and shifted, clearly wanting to turn away.

How weird is Harley?

_ _

Superwoman couldn't imagine being so overt that she grabbed someone else's breasts like that, but maybe she could, at the very least, live vicariously through Harley. Or maybe Harley's fascination with boobs to that extent was something Superwoman had too, though she was more into looking at the whole body. Harley, as it was, had a tight, round butt, though she was the very definition of the saying that good things came in small packages.

Or, in a way, insane things too. There was nothing sane, to say the least of it, about Harley Quinn. At least in her position, Superwoman didn't have to worry about that. She could more than easily get Harley back in her place.

“Hm, your nipples are bigger too, Talia," Harley went on. “They stick out more, that's kind of cool. I wish I had boobs like yours though, Talia!"

“I'm glad you're finally using my name," Talia growled, her tone lower than before. “That's enough now, you've taken more than advantage there."

“Wow, okay, okay…" Harley released Talia's tits, much to the other woman's obvious relief. “I have more than enough data anyway."

When she released Talia's tits, it became obvious just how much of a tight grip Harley had placed on them. Red patches showed where Harley had grabbed her, with whiter, paler spots where the blood had been forced away from the surface level of the skin. No wonder that had been uncomfortable for her!

Though it was only Harley and they, at the very least, knew Harley didn't mean any harm. She might need to be reined in a little more than before, however…

Harley jumped back through the water, splashing, and bowed deeply, pigtails swinging. The pose made the round of her glutes more obvious and Superwoman's eyes trailed up her firm, strong thighs to her flat stomach and narrower waist. Her breasts shifted and swung lightly under her, shifting as she adjusted the position of her body while she tipped forward, but the moment was gone as she snapped upright again.

“Thank you for your participation," she announced dramatically. “It is greatly appreciated!"

The rest of their time bathing was rather mundane compared to Harley's prior antics, though that was okay too. It was nice to just have a time where they could relax around one another, feeling fresh and clean. Taking care of their uniforms was important too and Superwoman scrubbed hers out over the rocks. Maybe they'd be able to find something to help clean them, but Talia would be the one to consult on that one. She would have tried using her powers but didn't quite know how she could more delicately clean her outfit. Her powers really weren't suited for such a thing.

The end of the day found them all in their underwear again, sitting around the fire. Darkness fell outside the cave and a soft sense of companionship washed over them, letting the firelight guide them as they boiled water and cooked a hot meal. Once their suits had finished drying, they could once again clothe themselves, but they were comfortable enough close to the fire for the time being.

Superwoman casually let her eyes roam over them, wondering if they looked any different now that they were out of the water. Being in their underwear was a different kind of exposure, even though the “important bits" were all covered up. Well, except in Harley's case, who hummed and bobbed her head to a tune only she could hear as she ate. Harley had forgone a bra and her breasts were the only ones left exposed.

In a way, it was fitting that Superwoman was able to ogle her in turn, for Harley had taken such liberties with Talia. Superwoman smirked covertly, hiding her amusement from her face.

It had turned into a strange mission, but things would come right, once Circe was healed.

---

Vignette Three

---

Craig pottered around the pawn shop early in the morning. It was quiet there, for most who wanted to pawn things came in later in the day. Maybe that was a little stereotypical, or him putting meaning to something that was merely a coincidence, but he'd done that job for a long time. Owning the pawn shop too gave him a life in Gotham that he could carry on, regardless of how times were.

Sure, he knew some of what he acquired had to be stolen, but people were down on their luck, surely. He always made sure to check serial numbers and the like, anything that could identify if something was on a stolen register, with the police or similar. Things slipped through the cracks, however, and he was there to keep his business going quietly, no more and on less than that.

Tap-tap… Tap-tap…

_ _

“Huh?"

He looked up, narrowing his eyes shrewdly. Was there someone on the roof? That knocking noise sounded far too loud to be birds on the roof again.

Making his way to the back of the store, he rattled down the ladder that lead up to the roof, for his shop was on the smaller side. He pushed the hatch open and peered around, though it took him a few moments to catch sight of the woman in pigtails.

“What the…"

He muttered under his breath, seeing her blonde pigtails first, though she was exceptionally still. Perched at the edge of the roof, she was crouched down with binoculars in front of her eyes, looking out over the city.

However, Craig couldn't ignore the fact that she had her pants down to her knees and was in the middle of…uh… The only polite way that he could say it was that she was taking a bowel movement! There was a big pile of poop next to her of ridiculous lengths and sizes, starting at three inches and ending at around nine inches, but that was nothing compared to the long log of poop she was in the process of excreting. It hung from her backside and didn't move, as if it was stuck. Even from where Craig was, it looked like it was exceptionally hard, though he was rather disgusted to know that he thought the colour was moderate, a medium-brown. It was not something that he ever would have wanted to be up close and personal with, but there he was.

Life sure has a way of taking ridiculous turns…

_ _

He grunted, his throat feeling tight all of a sudden. He had to say something and yet the words stuck in his throat as if he was trying to work them out in an impossible manner.

The poop protruding rudely from the woman's backside hung there, already at eight inches. How could someone poop that much? She had to be sick, that was just obscene!

“What are you doing on my roof?" He finally managed to force out, though the words came out as something of a croak. “Hey… Hey, you can't be here!"

The woman looked back at him, seemingly unbothered by being interrupted in the middle of going to the bathroom. Her pigtails bounced and her pale face brightened in a huge, Cheshire-cat smile.

Wait… No, it can't be! He thought, shuddering back, his lower jaw falling slack. That really does look like Harley Quinn! She's been all over the papers – she's a damned criminal!

_ _

“Ohhhh, hello!" She chirped, waving cheerily as if there was nothing at all strange going on in the slightest. “I'm just taking a dump – can't you see! Well, nah – nothing to see here! Nothing at all!"

She laughed, though cut it short, returning swiftly to looking, rather intently, through her binoculars. Harley tipped forward a little, her tongue poking out from the corner of her lips, as she stared hard through them, pressing them so firmly against her face that it was a wonder they didn't leave rings behind where they'd indented her skin.

She scanned the distant rooftops and Craig opened and closed his mouth several times. Just what the hell was he supposed to say to that? If he pushed her away, forced her to get her pants pulled up… Well, how could he even do that when she was in the middle of pooping? That didn't work and it didn't make sense either!

He grappled with himself, wanting her gone even though there seemed to be little he could do to get the criminal woman gone. She had been put away a few times already, in Gotham asylum, for the serious nature of her crimes, so it wasn't at all a smart idea to anger her either!

Again, his eyes dropped to that poop, which had eased a little more from her. She grunted right there before him, another inch sliding out of her as the length of the poop pushing from her backside reached ten inches. Yet she still didn't seem to be anywhere near done, wiggling her buttocks from side to side a little as she bore down on the poop.

“Ah! Finally!"

She gave one almighty push and, finally, expelled the rest of the big, hard poop in a single shot. It dropped heavily to the rooftop with a thud that was audible even to him at a slight distance. Obviously huge and difficult to excrete, he estimated it to be about seventeen-inches in length, though that seemed ridiculously large for a poop, even then.

Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he was having a really twisted kind of nightmare… That would make a lot more sense than him actually having Harley Quinn doing no less than taking a giant shit on the roof of his shop!

Still, he felt like he should say something, working his jaw, though no words easily leapt to his lips. It was wrong, all wrong, and his heart pounded, anger flaring sickeningly through him. It might have just been a flash, though it reminded him he was the one in the right there and he had every right to tell Harley Quinn, regardless of who she was and what she'd done, to leave immediately.

He blinked at the poop, however, pausing for a moment while Harley pulled up her pants and, thankfully, covered her pale white buttocks again. That put his mind a little more at ease, for he didn't want to see that part of her in the slightest, but there was still so much poop…

Craig swallowed hard and shook his head at it. That shouldn't have come out of a person! The monster of a poop took prime place, though Harley didn't do anything about it, didn't even try to hide it. A seventeen-inch poop couldn't possibly be healthy, although he didn't really have a place to comment on that. And what about the number of other poops she'd already done? The pile was messy, as if she'd tried to poop in a pile, but they had all slid to the side, jumbled together. One of the smaller poops looked to have dropped down in the middle and had ended up mostly hidden by the rest of the poops covering it.

He shook himself, dragging himself rather ruthlessly back to reality. What the hell was he doing, staring at a pile of poop? He had a criminal to confront!

Harley Quinn won't scare me!

_ _

Maybe that was a bolder approach than he should have taken, although there was nothing really to be said there.

“Hey!" He raised his voice, climbing up partway out of the hatch, though tension lined his body. “What do you think you're doing? You can't go to the bathroom here! That's disgusting!"

A bit of his personal feelings on the matter cut through at the end, but how could she possibly think that pooping on a stranger's roof was at all normal? It was insane and it was up to him to tell her exactly how insane it was!

He tried to put an authoritative note into his tone.

“Clean that up right now!"

“Hah!"

Harley rocked back, clutching the binoculars to her chest as her mirth echoed through the stillness of the early morning.

“Oh, that's a laugh! I can't go here, can I?" Harley shot back at him mockingly. “Hate to break it to you, but the pile of turds I just made really disagree with you on that one, buddy!"

Her laughter rang out again, as if she was no longer worried about being heard. After all, someone who was so bold as to go to the bathroom in such a public location probably had no more respect for the law and the world around her than her past actions had already conveyed.

Harley just put her hand under her chin, pausing while she seemed to consider the moment and his actual request.

“Hm… Well, that's a tricky one, buuuuut, nah! I don't think I will! You're super-duper welcome to clean it up though, that doesn't matter one bit to me!"

Harley leapt up and bowed, as if she was coming to the end of a circus act, everything she did nothing more than putting on a show. Her pigtails swung, yet she was back upright and readying herself to leave in the blink of an eye.

“Okay – gotta run, this has been super fun! Byeeeeee!"

Harley didn't bother to say anything more, leaping right off the roof and striking out for the next building off. She flipped over in the air easily, making a farce of gravity, and whistled as she went on her way. Her giant hammer stayed in place, slung across her back. Seeing that made him at least a little bit glad that she hadn't retaliated against him in any way, for it would have been most likely Craig who came out worse in that scenario.

“What the hell… This stupid woman! What the fuck does she think she's doing?"

It was easy to snarl and shake his fist at her retreating back, Harley Quinn vanishing out of sight as if she'd never been. Yet there was no denying that she'd been there with that giant pile of poop left in her wake, telling everyone that she had left her trademark calling card.

Craig growled under his breath and made as if to kick the roof, needing to do something to release his anger, at least in some small way. Maybe he'd call the press, tell them what Harley was up to. They'd at least have a field day with it, he was sure about that, but he wasn't so sure they'd put a picture of a pile of poop in the paper at all, let alone on the front page. Was it too gross for the more gossipy columns and articles? He didn't know, for he wasn't really all that involved in that side of things.

Calling the cops… Well, that was definitely off the table. It had been proven time after time again just how corrupt the Gotham cops were, though Batman was at least doing something to clean up that side of things. It really was a corrupt, broken city.

“They probably have a lot bigger problems than someone pooping on the roof too," he grumbled, shaking his head as he looked over the pile. “Jeez, what a day… This is insane… No one's going to fucking believe me anyway. Why'd she have to choose my roof?"

Checking out the pile of poop, he scratched the back of his neck. How was he supposed to deal with a pile that large? He'd always gone in a regular fashion: in a toilet. He had barely even had to take a leak out in the wilderness when he'd gone camping and hiking, for he'd usually chosen campsites with facilities back then.

Maybe a dustpan and brush? He thought, trying to run through his options. Ugh, I don't even want to get that close to it. And that big one is never going to fit on the dustpan!

_ _

He measured it up by eye again and shuddered at the thought of having to take the poop back down the ladder, sending it toppling and tumbling all the way back down to the ground floor of his shop. No, no… At the very least, he didn't want to risk making a worse mess for him to clean up.

“A bag… Yeah, black bag. That'll do. At least I can take it all down at once that way."

He'd still need the dustpan and brush, of course, as there was no way in hell he was touching it otherwise, though a pair of gloves most certainly would not go amiss either. The latter wasn't something he had readily available in his shop, though Craig did his best to make sure the floors and surfaces were kept clean.

He didn't usually have to clean up something as gross as a bowel movement.

He stared once again at the poop, shaking his head as his lip curled in disgust. How someone could do that was beyond him, yet it was up to him to make sure everything was cleaned up. The number of poops still flummoxed him, but Craig pushed it from his mind.

Heading back down the ladder, he grunted, muttering under his breath. The mess still had to be cleaned up and, well…maybe he wouldn't have to think any more about it.

But Craig wouldn't forget Harley Quinn in a hurry.