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We All Need To...

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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Vignette One

Catwoman's perspective

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It was good to have a vacation, even if Catwoman would not have honestly chosen to go with, well…everyone else. She was more of a solitary soul, a little on the aloof side, though that suited Catwoman fine. It was the life that she had chosen for herself, or at least that was the story she told. That didn't mean that there couldn't be some manner of change in her life too. For instance, heading off to Talia Al Ghul's private island in the Pacific Ocean was something that she wouldn't usually have done, but it came with some pitfalls.

“Isn't this exciting?" Harley squealed, bouncing around the private plane cabin, her pigtails bouncing, though she didn't have her jester's hat on, not for once. “We're going to have such a blast there!"

There was more, of course, though Catwoman wasn't listening to her. It was easier and easier to tune Harley Quinn out the more time she spent around her, though spending time around and near Harley wasn't something that Catwoman was at all interested in either.

That time, Catwoman was dressed as she would have as Selina, someone that was, just, well, ordinary. She didn't much care for ordinary but she did rather like flying under the radar. Or slinking under the radar, as she was more apt to do. The shorts exposed her legs, though she kept them quite modest, the hem coming down to just above the knee, though they were fitted, just like her catsuit. In that respect, they didn't leave much to the imagination, though Catwoman had more confidence in her body when she was all suited up. There would always be something about putting on a catsuit that was inherently flattering. At least, that was how she saw it. And no one was going to challenge her on that.

So, that was okay. She wouldn't have joined the whole group if not for Harley bugging her for over a week to join them, though she was glad now that the plane was setting down, the plane alight with gossip and babble. Most of the latter, undoubtedly, was from the ever-energetic Harley Quinn. Catwoman's lips pressed together as she shouted and clapped, ever the comedian. Did she ever sleep? Maybe they would have to slip her a few pills just to get any rest at all on the vacation.

The full group consisted of Lady Blaze, Enchantress, Circe, Superwoman, Poison Ivy, Talia Al Ghul and, of course, for she would never be forgotten, Harley Quinn. It was Harley who led the way off the plane onto the sunny, easy island, doing cartwheels down the whole ramp – even though it was Talia Al Ghul's island. Catwoman pressed her lips together in a quiet grimace, though Harley would not have listened to her if she had told her to be a little quieter, to show a little more respect for the people that she was with.

There was a lightness to her behaviour, however, something that Catwoman, very occasionally, wished that she had for herself too. She could be a loner but she could like a group around her too, even if she was not about to start backflipping down the ramp from the plane. Not that she couldn't, of course, but she had some decorum.

Yet did that classiness and decorum always have to be held in such high regard?

She shook off the notion as they headed down, Talia Al Ghul explaining, though only some of the group was listening, that the private island was hidden from outsiders by magic. Privately, Catwoman thought that she didn't need magic to do what she did, so, clearly, something like that was superfluous. Wisely, however, she did not voice that notion aloud.

Not much happened the first night, food and drink arranged for them in a hotel-like complex, though it was staffed by those loyal to Talia Al Ghul – Talia, for short. So far, Catwoman had only seen the serious side of her, so calling her anything other than her full, given name seemed inappropriate. Yet they were all villains of some kind and they had something in common, even though all of them were very different souls too.

She slept alone in a bed that engulfed her that night, for once not dreaming a single dream that she remembered. And that, in itself, was a blessing she was grateful for.

Refreshed the next day, she dressed in a blue and white bikini – something that Selina would have worn, rather than Catwoman. Catwoman was not shucking her life as Catwoman, no, not entirely but…it was nice too for her to forget about that side of the world, if only for a little while. Gotham would still be there when she got back, as decrepit and as corrupt as ever, as she'd expected.

The island was a paradise, typical as if it had come straight from a postcard. Maybe Talia had even had it transported there from another part of the world, making it fit out there in the Pacific. But with the sun caressing her bare skin, a beach towel that she didn't really need tied loosely around her waist, Catwoman didn't care one bit. Not as she took in breath after breath of fresh, crisp ocean air, tasting the lick of salt on her lips.

“Mmm…"

She could sink into the bubble of light conversation – some complaints over the vile superheroes and the like that had thwarted them over the years or made their lives more difficult than they had had to be – out there on the beach. With a big, floppy hat over her head and her pale skin covered in sun cream (it was not as if it was exposed much to daylight at all in her line of “work"), she laid stretched out on another beach towel. With her bikini covering everything that it needed to, she relaxed, letting the heat sink into softly, soothing tension from muscles.

“Mmm…"

“Someone sounds like she's having a good time, hey!"

Of course, that had to be Harley. Catwoman groaned and turned her head a little further away from the direction of Harley Quinn's voice, burying her face deeper down between her arms. She'd talk to Harley later, if she couldn't get away from her.

“Hey, guys – I've got a great idea!"

Oh, no, that never boded well when it came to Harley.

“Why don't we skinny dip?" She said, bouncing on the balls of her feet, sand sifting around her bare toes, which were painted in red and black. “It'll be a laugh – bet you guys haven't done anything like that before!"

“Why would one strip off their clothes to go in the water?" Enchantress said, her hair pulled back and her head tilted slightly. “Isn't that why we're wearing bikinis?"

“I mean, yeah – but it's so much more fun like this! It's too warm to wear anything at all and we're all girls here, ain't we?"

They didn't really have anything to say against that and, over the years, the supervillains and misfits had lost some of the inhibitions that society on Earth (and the cities, depending on where they were from, on or off-world) had placed upon them. When they broke laws daily, galaxy-wide and earth-wide, there was only so much that could, in the end, hold them back.

So that was just how everyone except Catwoman ended up stripping off their swimwear with surprisingly little convincing from Harley. Harley Quinn, of course, was the first to yank off her red and black bikini with three black diamonds on the red skin of the top part, hurling it to the wind, not to be found later. It was not as if she had ever thought all that far ahead, always just expecting things to work out.

She squealed as she dashed into the water, her pigtails bobbing, her white backside trembling from the cool of the water.

“Oh, it's amazing!"

She plunged deeper, her voice quieter and fainter as she focused on swimming, kicking off into water that was too deep for her to stand in. For Harley, she was a surprisingly strong swimmer, though Catwoman didn't quite know what to make of that. Shaking her head at their antics, she watched without trying to look like she was watching everyone else dip into the ocean, gasping and sometimes even shrieking at the comparative cool of the water. When the sun and the sand were both as warm as they were, sometimes the ocean could feel even colder by comparison.

Eventually, however, everyone was in and Catwoman felt a little more confident in looking up, now that there weren't bare breasts and butts pointing in her direction, seemingly from all directions. It was rude to stare, though, frankly, it had been them who had stripped off in front of her. Catwoman had just been the one to get an eyeful of everything that was under their bikinis and swimsuits, regardless of the styles that they had been wearing.

Harley whooped and splashed, her arms wild, though she never once seemed in danger of sinking.

“Hey – Selina!" Poison Ivy called, having ducked under the water so that her hair was soaked, slicked back from her face and down against her scalp. “You don't want to miss out on this – or can't you get cats wet? Come on!"

Poison Ivy could be pretty relaxed, depending on what mood she was in. She had a fixed goal in life in mind and that was with the planet at its centre, its focused: nothing else really mattered to her, even the relationships that came and went. Nothing was fixed and everything had to grow, she knew that.

But she'd known Catwoman too for quite some time and felt more comfortable teasing her, flashing a smile and splashing in her general direction. Catwoman, however, was too far away on the beach to be at risk of the water.

“What? No!"

Harley gasped, her hands going to her cheeks as she disappeared for a moment under the water, forgetting that she needed to keep paddling to stay afloat. She didn't splutter, however, coming back to the surface, indignance brimming from her face.

“You can't stay out there while we're all in here!" Harley exclaimed, drawing the attention of Circe and Superwoman. “We're all doing it, don't be a wuss, kitty-cat! You'll have fun if you just come out here and join us!"

Catwoman groaned. Why had the others taken no persuasion at all and she was the only one who wanted to stay on dry land? Well, she might have taken to the water of her own accord later, though she did rather just enjoy sunning herself on dry land, frankly. And wasn't that her right too? She didn't have to go along with what everyone else wanted to do, even though they did rather seem like they were having fun out there in the water…

She dithered, not knowing what she wanted to go for. Perhaps it was like the cat that didn't know whether they wanted to go out the door or stay inside, though someone would pick up on that later and tease Catwoman for it. It was not as if she was ill-dressed for the occasion and the water sure was glittering invitingly, the sunshine sparkling off the surface in such a way that she could almost feel it slipping over her skin at that very moment.

“Hm…"

She shook her head lightly, but she had always known, in a way, that she was going to go in. Standing, she rolled her eyes at them and stripped off without thinking too much about what she was doing. It was a hot day, she told herself. Everyone else was doing it – and it was not as if it was something that was going to come back on her negatively, not in any way.

So, that made it okay, yes. It made it something that she could do and something that she could enjoy, even smiling a little as her bare breasts were exposed. As much as she most likely wouldn't have done it without Harley starting things off, it was not so bad, not as she stepped into the water.

The waves lapped over her toes, bubbling as the water churned and swelled back into the ocean, the never-ending pull of the tide drawing her into it. Poison Ivy laughed and bumped Harley with her shoulder as Catwoman joined them.

“There, that's better!" She all but crowed, uncharacteristically cheery, almost as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “Out here, no one can bother us."

Catwoman wasn't so sure why Poison Ivy was concerned at all with being bothered out there, though perhaps she was due a bit of her own company too – or the company of those that the rest of the world, and beyond, had shunned. The water caressed her skin softly as Catwoman paddled, keeping her head above the water as she did a strong breaststroke. Even just swimming naked reminded her of the times, out at the lakes, where she had been better able to enjoy nature naked like that, slipping into the water where no one would know her, all so that she could just do what she wanted. Swimming in the water around Gotham city was not so much something that appealed to her, in all fairness.

The privacy there and the perfectly clean, pure water eased her mind, more than a little. No one that was not authorised – which was a very short list, even including Talia Al Ghul's staff on the island – could access the island, even far out in the water. Catwoman did not know what the specific magical perimeter was there, though it was okay.

And, in that moment, everything really was okay.

One thing that certainly did not bother Catwoman, though could have bothered others, was being naked around the other villains – her friends. Well, some were acquaintances, they weren't all close…though they had bonded over their shared place in the world.

Still, she couldn't help but take a little look at the bodies of the others in the water, the water shimmering and flickering, dancing about to such an extent with a life and a mind of its own that it distorted their bodies. Some had paler skin than others, some were tan and others had darker skin, though she was unsurprised to see that Harley Quinn was still as white as ever. She was just about the villain that Catwoman hung around the most, not to her pleasure a lot of the time, though Harley was rarely seen during the day. Definitely a night owl, she wasn't into tanning beds or salons either, which was probably for the best.

Catwoman suppressed a grin, ducking her chin and mouth under the water so that no one could see her mirth. A tanned Harley Quinn, orange and baked, would be a terrifying sight indeed. And, if she mentioned it to Harley, at some point, casually, Harley might even take the bait and think that it was a good prank. She would not realise, however, that, that time, it would be her being pranked…

She swam and swam, floating on her back, ignorant of how her body was exposed to eyes and sunshine alike. The waters around there, she had been assured, were safe, and it was all she could do as the day wore on not to let her eyelids flutter closed, even if her body would have kicked and flailed if she had sunk under the water and dozed off. It would have just been embarrassing, even if she would never have been in any real danger. But she didn't need to give any of them, especially Harley, any ammunition at all to tease her with.

Eventually, however, the others filtered out of the water and headed off to the white sand of the beach to sunbathe naked, some on their backs and some on their fronts, heads buried in the shade. She joined them, grateful for the ease of movement that not being dressed afforded her, though it was not as if she had flown out there in her catsuit or anything. It was just different to feel the sand sifting between her toes, shifting lightly under her feet were it was softer and looser, her chest and back warming especially to the stronger heat of the sun.

She stretched out with the rest of them, at the end of the row, so she could relax and let her body catch the sun, though she knew that she could not stay out there for too long. Her legs and crotch were both shaved, though she let her legs rest close enough together that no one could see the light curl of dark hair on her labia. It was not as if it would have raised any eyebrows in that group, as everyone had differently shaped bodies and amounts of hair on those bodies. Where they had shunned the norms of society as it was, they could do as they liked with their bodies.

Still, the warmth of the sun burned through her, her forehead damp with the faintest sheen of perspiration. She had to get out of the sun, for she was too hot, with no sunshades left out there. She could have gone back to the compound and picked one up, an umbrella that she could stick in the sand and relax in the comparative cool of, though that seemed like an awfully long walk there and back. But it was not as if she could lie out there forever, even when she buried her head in her arms, trying to hide her dark hair, dry after swimming, from the unrelenting rays of the sun.

“Hm…"

She murmured to herself as she checked out her body, lifting both arms and craning her neck around to check her shoulders. Her chest was already a little red and that was not from the water but from the sun getting into her skin. That wasn't a good thing, though it definitely looked as if she had not quite applied enough suncream earlier to keep her skin protected. It was funny how such a small thing could still become an issuer for a villain like her, even if she had never honestly set out to be a villain.

Things had just ended up like that and, well, it was a profession she enjoyed too.

Best to take a nap, cool off, get out of the sun, she thought to herself. I can't hang out here when I'm burning up.

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She still did not rush as she strolled towards the main compound – what had been formed into a strange sort of hotel, though it was an amalgamation of the two. It was certainly a place where others were expected to stay, though there was more comfort there than could have been expected of a typical base and compound. Talia Al Ghul, however, had not gone all the way into luxury and it didn't blend in well with the landscape from the outside, which was something of a shame.

But there were other things to look at, as she walked past the casual row of sunbathing women. Perhaps it was wrong or at least overly curious for her to look at them with as much interest as she was but, well…it was not as if anyone was going to catch Catwoman staring. They were all occupied, quietly and soothingly so.

Maybe that was what they had needed all along. The rest, the relaxation – something that she didn't all that often find when she was a villain.

Poison Ivy was the first that she passed, though she slowed the roll of her gait across the sand as she did so, taking her time. Poison Ivy had her hair down, though it was a little fluffier and frizzier around her head than it usually was. That was most likely the effect of the salt water. However, she didn't have any sunglasses on, which made Catwoman a little more confident that she was not going to be spotted. It was not as if anyone was trying to be discreet or modest anyway and no one was doing anything wrong by either looking or exposing themselves, exactly as they were already.

Her body was lean but strong, as if there was a great deal of functional muscle on her body. It may not have been as much, visibly, as Catwoman had seen on some of the superheroes especially, but it suited Ivy, all the way down to the narrower point of her waist. Her hips were wider than her shoulders, lending her to be ever so slightly bottom-heavy, though it was merely the appearance and presentation of another woman's body. The softness of her thighs squashed out very faintly as she lay there, though it was a tiny note that she would only have seen as she was looking so closely.

Catwoman moved her tongue lightly within her mouth, resisting the urge to chuckle faintly at the full and healthy bush (joke intended) that Ivy had at her crotch. Like her hair, it was a fiery red, though that was to be expected, considering how she naturally was. Catwoman wondered briefly quite what Poison Ivy would look like if she dyed her hair, though even she could not imagine dying anything below the waist. That would be just a little bit weird…

Poison Ivy, however, had a full bust, lying flat on her back and stretching out, wriggling and scrunching up her toes very lightly. She relaxed fully as Catwoman quietly observed her, though Catwoman didn't want to be caught staring. Her nipples seemed a bit darker than usual, yet there weren't any tan marks on her body, which suggested to her that Ivy had a way, and the privacy to do so, to sunbathe naked. Perhaps it was her plants that protected her skin from harmful UV rays? Even as villains, well, they were still very much susceptible to that, it couldn't be helped.

The rise of her breasts shifted with every breath, Catwoman marvelling at the fact that she could pick up such a small detail even then. The ripple from breathing ran down through her entire body, drawing Catwoman's eyes to her strong waist and the hips that gave her a nice hourglass figure. Poison Ivy was moderately muscular, the definition in her deltoid and triceps, in particular, standing out to Catwoman, along with her quadriceps. She was feminine, of course, but there would be nothing at all wrong if she had had more muscle on her body too. Bodies never had to appeal to anyone in particular or do a certain thing.

The next one in the line was Lady Blaze: a curious supervillain from the underworld. Catwoman was unsure that she would have survived down there and it was still amazing, at least to her, that they could all come together from all parts of the city, the universe and even beyond. With her red skin and black hair, two large horns rising from her head, Lady Blaze was distinctive. Even after having been out in the water, her hair and skin appeared perfectly soft as she lay there on her stomach, her black mane flowing gently down over her right shoulder, as if she had swept it off to the side to expose her back.

Did Lady Blaze even need to tan? Catwoman paused briefly to look at her, though that in itself was a bold move, taking in the strong lines of muscle running down her back, everything that Lady Blaze's body naturally embodied. But it was the round of her glutes, so sleek and powerful, that caught her attention the most, though Catwoman could not see any curls or touches of pubic hair down there. Perhaps that was due to the way she was lying? Catwoman wasn't about to strut right up to her and peer up between her legs, after all. Her legs, however, were completely devoid of hair, the skin untouched and perfect, even though Catwoman would never have said “pure" when it came to Lady Blaze.

Her legs were smooth, the long, fluid lines of them dragging the eye down and down and down, as appealing as Lady Blaze's glutes were to look at too. The skin varied in shade, as if it differed under varying light sources, a little darker towards her ankles. It would not have been noticeable, of course, if Catwoman had not been looking as closely as she was.

Catwoman moved on, though her head turned, noting Lady Blaze's forehead, how she seemed at ease, in that moment, her horns positioned such so that they would not bother her. They didn't seem as if they would allow Lady Blaze to lie down comfortably when she was on her back, though Catwoman wasn't going to ask that question. The horns had light lines on them and Catwoman considered the fact that they would have a different texture, perhaps bumpy with the ridges, where they had formed and given her a very distinctive appearance.

Superwoman was moderately similar to Lady Blaze in the sense that she set Catwoman on edge, as if something was not quite right there. They were from a different place and a different time and that in itself could never be changed. She always seemed to have a smirk on her lips and yet, that time, Superwoman kind of looked relaxed, lying comfortably on her back with her left leg kinked up so that her knee was bent and her foot pressed flat to her beach towel. Her hair was like Lady Blaze's, dark and sultry, though it had a bit more salt clinging to it, making it stick out from Superwoman's head, just a little.

Her collarbones were sharp, perhaps one of Superwoman's defining features, but her smooth, pale skin did not look as if it had seen sun like that before. Which Catwoman could understand as, well, she knew she was pale too. Being so covered up while they “worked" meant that some parts of their bodies would simply go unseen.

Yet all was laid bare with Superwoman that day, her breasts rising and falling, big and full, tugged slightly to either side of her body by the pull of gravity. With a bust like that, there was no keeping it contained without some form of clothing, though Catwoman anticipated that her usual outfits had to be specially designed to contain her. Not that she was obscenely large or anything, when it came to her chest and oddly light, delicate nipples, but it was not something that one could, for example, fly about carrying without a little additional support.

Her waist, below her breasts, looked exceptionally narrow – but that could have been because her breasts changed the appearance of her torso when they were not contained in a bra or her usual suit-type outfit, as the supervillains (and regular villains) were apt to wear. Her abs were on show, lightly defined, even as she relaxed, which was really quite impressive. Catwoman wouldn't have minded having abs like that, but even she needed to make sure that she ate enough and didn't lean down all the way, or else she wouldn't have been able to do her job.

Superwoman's hips were perhaps a little narrower than her bust, yet it was hard to tell when she was lying down, especially when Catwoman had to be more discreet about observing her. Yet what caught Catwoman's attention, oddly enough, was her trimmed pubic hair, dark and neat, as if Superwoman kept it well under control. Her thighs were a bit thicker too, though whether the swell, however slight, at the front of them was due to muscle or fat was none of Catwoman's concern.

She knew she was staring, though she couldn't help herself as she carried on.

Maybe I should just keep my eyes on the compound…

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But Catwoman was curious. Just like a cat.

Harley Quinn was lying on her side, facing Enchantress. Enchantress, perhaps, was not all that thrilled by the chatter, rolling over from her left side to her back, though she did not completely snub Harley. Harley groaned and puffed out her cheeks with air, as if demonstrating her annoyance at Enchantress was going to get her to roll back towards her and join in with whatever crazy conversation Harley was having at that moment.

Harley Quinn didn't seem to care one bit about having her body exposed, which was pretty normal for her. She did seem to be a natural blonde, however, which Catwoman recalled from too many years back, before she had turned. Some used other words for Harley's transformation into Harley Quinn, turning from a respectable member of society, there to help the criminally insane, to a delinquent intent on running after one particular criminal, causing chaos. Catwoman couldn't fault her for the sheer volume of chaos that she caused, however. That was and always would be within Harley's forte.

Her buttocks were white, as if she too didn't get much sun, her back to Catwoman as she approached, then passed her. Her shoulders were a little on the narrower side and Catwoman could not see her breasts clearly, even as she walked on by. They didn't appear anywhere near as large as Superwoman's, though that most likely helped Harley with all the acrobatics that she did. They surely would have gotten in the way. It was not something that should have crossed Catwoman's mind in the slightest, though she could not help, even then, but wonder whether they were soft or if there were any parts of her body that Harley would change. She had had times where her strength and flexibility had hindered her, at the very least, and Harley was even more athletic than she was. She wasn't about to be doing circus flips and spins.

No… Everything Catwoman did was functional, using the tools available to her to her best advantage. As she passed Harley, she raised an eyebrow at Harley slumped back as she rolled over, on her back again. The peaks of her nipples appeared perky and pert, though that could have just been Catwoman's gaze, only just about seeing her out of the corner of her eye.

Circe, of course, had long, red hair, though it was not braided that day, but almost dry, loose about her shoulders in the warm sunshine. A sunshade offered her shelter over her head and shoulders, though she seemed to be working on a braless tan, since they had all shed their swimwear to skinny dip. She seemed to be more awake and alert than the others, lying on her back but with her legs pressed together, the softness of her thighs showing where the light fat on them squashed where they were squeezed in. Or maybe that merely indicated that Circe was not quite comfortable there.

It was hard to say, though it was never for Catwoman to say, no. Circe was powerful too and she had to respect that, though she chanced that there were freckles across the top of her chest and breasts. She would have had to stop for longer, however, to take all of that in, and she had to leave Circe to her sunbathing. Those furtive eyes, snapping up and catching every sound, as if she couldn't quite disconnect from the world around her and the world that they were supposed to be taking a vacation from, were only going to get Catwoman in trouble for looking too much, if she wasn't more careful than usual.

She had nice shoulders though, the point of her collarbone rising out in a feminine fashion. Of course, she wouldn't have expected Circe to have shaved pubic hair and her bush was short but lightly curly, as if it never grew very thick or very long anyway. Catwoman's gaze pulled back up Circe's body, admiring with a light murmur how the smooth lines of her belly showed off her oblique muscles, though there were no visible abdominal muscles otherwise. Circe didn't need that.

Enchantress had always caught Catwoman's attention, next in line, though she was nearing the end of the row already, heading for the compound and the room that she had been offered. Her dark hair was splayed out boldly across the sand, dark with a hint of purple in it, though, in the dark, Catwoman had always thought it was only black. It was the first time, really, that she was seeing many of the supervillains, and more, in the light, which amused her with a bubbling little giggle in the back of her mind. She couldn't let it up and out of her just yet, however, keeping her expression and pace neatly under wraps with the slow, languid stroll of her stride.

Enchantress was lying flat on her front, though had propped herself up slightly, reading a book. It could have been a spell book or something magical, so Catwoman did not peer too closely, choosing only to take Enchantress in from the corner of her eye. It was easier to be nosy when the targets of her interest were facing away from her or otherwise engaged, though Circe and Enchantress both had appeared more alert.

She did, however briefly, get to see the round of her shoulders, her hair pushed back from them to expose her face and the cut of her cheekbones. That in turn showed off her breasts, even if Catwoman was quite sure that there wasn't anyone at all that would have been trying to show off their bodies quite in that way. They weren't there, vacationing at what could have been a resort, for that kind of attention.

Her breasts were in shadow but they still appeared to be large and full, hanging down in that traditional teardrop shape, where the weight of them gave them more shape and life than containing them in a bra or any outfit could have done. It was the way for women, more so supervillains and more, for they had to keep them under wraps and do what they needed to do. Enchantress' shoulder blades pushed back a little and, just before she was too far to see, Catwoman caught a glimpse of the line of her spine. It drew her eye smoothly down to the round of her buttocks, even if Enchantress was not trying to make her look, her glutes powerful and a sense of strength about her thighs. Of course, Enchantress could merely have been contracting her muscles, with how she was propped up while lying on her front to read her book, but it was all about the interpretation of it. All in all, she looked quietly powerful, as if she could have leapt up at a moment's notice to take charge of, well…whatever it was that she needed to.

Catwoman shook her head and tried not to smile too much, for it was good, at the very least, to see them all relaxed. She should not have looked at Talia Al Ghul either but she had done as much as she had so far anyway, Talia on her back and boldly with her arms thrown back behind her head. Her dark hair had been tied off in a ponytail, or perhaps a braid, and was tucked neatly under the back of her neck, her back lightly arched with her breasts pushed up just a little bit more. It was impossible to miss the sensual shift of her body and how she seemed to so very easily lay there. Maybe she was happier being out in the sunshine, naked, as it was her private island? That said, Catwoman did not even know if the island was actually owned by her or if it was just one of several that she had taken for her own, for that was the way of it when people worked out that they could delve into the darker side of the world. What was taken could always be replaced – and none of them had had the easiest lives to that date either.

Catwoman shook off the thought, noticing the little bit more of a tan that Talia Al Ghul had, although it was not dark, considering their jobs, their work. There was only so much that could be done in terms of skin and it was not as if a lack of sun exposure, very hot sun, would ever cause anyone health issues. There were no freckles at all on Talia Al Ghul's body, however, her nipples a darker pink that almost looked brown, the woman's eyes boldly open as she kept her head slightly propped up, all so that she could stare out to see. She did not care that Catwoman was passing by, though she most certainly knew that Catwoman was there.

Catwoman took her time, for there was no rush, finally admiring the strength of Talia Al Ghul, how she held herself lightly and casually with an ease that almost made her jealous. They were all vastly different and Talia Al Ghul's breasts looked to be about the same size as Catwoman's, though it was hard to compare, even when her own breasts were right there on her chest for her to compare to, if she'd wanted. The difference there was that Catwoman didn't have any desire to concern herself with more, just looking because she was curious – and the shift and set of their bodies, of course, was different, one lying and one standing.

There was a tan mark on her neck, denoting where her usual outfit ended, and her stomach was lighter, even if not pale by any means. Her thighs rose strongly and, as Catwoman walked by, she lifted her legs so that her feet were flat on her beach towel, toes curling faintly and scrunching up while the soft material shifted under her. That put her body at a sharper angle, knees pointing up, though Catwoman appreciated the swell of her calves, how her strength was functional and light. She could have been as bulked up with muscle as she liked, of course, and that would not have changed anything at all about Talia Al Ghul, for she was her own woman.

Perhaps one day, Catwoman would learn what her story was. But not that day. And she didn't feel that the time would be right for her to dig into that side, for she was not as familiar with Talia Al Ghul as she was with some of the others there.

Talia Al Ghul sighed as Catwoman finally passed her, though it did not at all seem as if she was bothered by Catwoman's presence, not at all. She did not care that there were others around and the casual sense of being at home in her environment was something that Catwoman missed from being back in Gotham City. It was her home, even if it was where she chose to run through her robbery sprees. All that she stole from, of course, could surely afford it. Not that that had ever been much of her consideration; it was merely where the jewels were.

Her body may have looked even better in that moment if she had had a large sapphire, perhaps encircled with diamonds, hanging from her neck, dipping down between her breasts. But that moment was not another, at least as far as Catwoman was concerned.

The warmth of the sunshine glistened over her skin with the faintest, softest sheen of perspiration. It was not an environment that Catwoman was particularly familiar or comfortable with, for the summers in Gotham often had easier places for her to get out of the sun, if she was even about in the daytime. She really had become a nocturnal being…

And yet that was the life that she had chosen for herself, after some factors had been set rolling, in place for more. Catwoman ignored those behind her as she lengthened her stride just a little bit more, settling into it, now that she had stretched out a little bit more in her pursuit of the compound. Now that she had gotten moving, she was keener than ever to get out of the heat of the day, to feel the cool, liquid shade of the compound, which was their hotel for the time being, washing over her. It would be more of a relief to her skin than even the ocean.

There was nothing much, for once, for her to do that day, slipping inside the hallways and allowing herself, if only for a moment, to feel thankful for the fact that there were none of Talia Al Ghul's employees in there, however discreet they were, to see her naked. There was a difference between stripping down to skinny dip and just parading herself about naked.

Her room was large and comfortable with some distance between the bed and the dressing area, where there was a big wardrobe and mirror for her to observe herself in. Briefly, Catwoman slipped into the shower, rinsing off her skin from the ocean water and the sand, for that would not have done her any good. The flow of the water streaming over her, slicking her hair down to her head again, eased any tension in her body, rolling her shoulders back with a low groan.

“Mmm…"

It was good to be relaxed like that, to settle in a way that she had not done in too long. Yet it was needed, all very much so, as she stepped back out of the shower cubicle, rubbing a fluffy, white towel over her body.

She, however, preferred to air dry. In the privacy of her room, she brushed her teeth, running it roughly against her incisors and canines, taking care of the molars. Just because Catwoman was who she was did not mean that she could simply set aside basic hygiene. It was just as important for her as it was for anyone else.

She watched herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth, though the mirror in the bathroom was all steamed up and she couldn't take all of it in, not at all once – not her own body, after all. She shook her head, hoping that the pink that she could just about see in her cheeks was just due to the shower, even though she'd thought that it had been on the cooler side.

To be safe, however, she rinsed out her mouth over the sink and headed back into the bedroom and the large, long mirror that reached to the floor to check herself out. She was more than familiar with her body, of course, but she wanted to make sure that there was no sunburn anywhere on her. That was something too that had become of more and more importance over recent years with a greater number of people taking care of their bodies and ensuring that they looked after the parts that they could see more than they had before.

“Hm… It doesn't look bad…"

She raised her right arm, shrugging her shoulder forward so that she could see the top side of it more easily, though the skin was still smooth there and pale. It would take a bit of time before any tan showed through on her skin, however, but she breathed a soft sigh at finding no sunburn there.

“Just as well I used suntan lotion… And there's more in my bag too."

She kept lotion too in her bag, when travelling, for after she had been in the sun. She was not entirely sure what it did, but it was supposed to protect her skin a little more again, offering it soothing and regenerative components after being out in the sun for too long.

She turned, eyeing up her back in the mirror, though she had to crane her neck to see, the lines of muscle down her back showing as she twisted and contracted one side of her body without actively thinking about what she was doing. So many small muscles all worked together without a body even thinking about it too much, though she didn't need to. That was what a body was for and everything about the art of movement, leaping and performing nimble acrobatics to commit thefts, was natural to her.

Again, Catwoman turned, looking down her front and paying careful attention to her breasts and belly, even down to her thighs: all the parts of her body that, more often than not, would not be exposed to the light. They were the parts that were susceptible to burning and she squatted a little, carefully running her hands down her smooth stomach to her crotch and thighs, checking between them. It would be unlikely to burn there but, frankly, she didn't want to risk it either.

It was all smooth, however, and there was no part of her, not even then, that tingled in a way that it shouldn't have done, which was a relief, even then, for her. Dealing with sunburn with the outfits that she was accustomed to wearing would really have set her back when she was no longer vacationing on the island.

She stood tall again and checked out the sensitive skin around her knees and especially the backs, even though she had taken care to slather suntan lotion there too. She wondered if she would have a tan at all, considering the amount of suntan lotion that she had used. Maybe it would be too much even for her skin? She had never often tanned before.

She shook her head and wriggled her toes as she checked down her shins, ignoring the light flare of hair at her crotch. Sometimes she shaved it all the way down and other times she allowed it to be a little more natural; Catwoman had the attitude that she wasn't going to waste any of her time on it at all if it wasn't something that was actively bothering her. It just wasn't necessary, at least in her opinion.

She did one more spin, chuckling faintly as the shift of her body made her breasts look larger from the side for a brief moment: a body was all about angles. That was something too that she could appreciate when she was observing the others stretched out on the beach. It gave her even more appreciation for her own body too, even if she was only looking herself over so carefully to make sure that she had not burned.

Everything was fine, however, even the sensitive skin of her neck and the tops of her ears. With everything being well, however, she groaned faintly and arched her back, ready for bed. The silk sheets were light against her body as she slipped between them, unaccustomed to that kind of luxury, though Catwoman, as Selina, was more than ready to make the most of it.

In bed, she exhaled, letting the strain and stress of the day wash over her, slipping from her bones with a breathy sigh.

---

Vignette Two

Paul's perspective, human hunter

Paul grunted, settled in at his remote camping site with his tent. He had taken a week off work to spend time out there and had been recovering, bit by bit, with his favoured activities of hunting and fishing, even with a little foraging tossed into the mix too. Anything to get his mind off the tedium of work and everything that he was getting away from.

Dressed in full camouflage, he crouched in the underbrush, a stick poking into his hip. Paul, however, was not willing to adjust his position when he was sure that a deer was going to pass by soon, from the tracks and the patterns that he had been following for a few days already. It would be a kill that, of course, he would have to take back with him quickly to make sure that he used every part of the deer, respecting the kill and stocking up his freezer.

“Unff…"

His thighs were still sore from the hiking he had been doing too, though he was not willing to give in, not yet. He wanted to practice, after all, with his crossbow rather than his rifle, resting his bow on a small log, just so that he could have a little bit of help in keeping his aim steady, when the time came.

Yet it was all a patience game and Paul had been waiting for an hour already.

“It'll come…"

He barely moved his lips as he mouthed the words. He hear them in his head, settled in his body and mind with nature moving around him.

The wind rustling through rich, green leaves.

A starling chirping in a bush, mimicking the cry of another bird.

A snake, harmless, slithering through the dead leaf litter, probably in search of mice.

The cool of the forest wrapping itself around him.

The morning was indeed pleasantly cool, though dawn had not long broken, the excitement of the hunt prickling under his skin. Glancing up, he watched a bird of prey – he thought it was a hawk of some kind, not an eagle – land on a branch, the bough swaying as if it was not going to take the bird's weight. It did hold, however, even as a sharp crack snapped through the air.

Paul blinked, tensing up. Had the branch snapped? But, no, the bird was still there, watching the ground intently. He followed its gaze, thinking that, perhaps, the deer were already back and had stepped on a twig, but there was no animal there.

Just a woman. But what was she doing there? She looked normal and he cursed under his breath, tucking his crossbow to the side so that he would not accidentally fire it, even though there was still a bolt nocked and ready in there.

Should he say something? Or would she think that he had been just sitting there waiting for her? That sounded kind of creepy, even to his ears. It was so remote out there, how could they have possibly missed each other before? And most people who came out into the wilds for hunting did so alone and far apart from one another, all so that they could help ensure that there were as few hunting accidents as possible. A hunter shooting into the brush would never quite be sure whether they were targeting a viable quarry or if a lonely walker had strayed off, so it was best to be far, far away from other people while hunting.

“Shoot…"

Paul groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. He'd have to say something, he couldn't just sit there!

And yet the choice was made for him, freezing in place as fire – real flames! – leapt and crackled, snapping up around the woman's heels. Poised to shout, he tipped forward, though the fire, even though he could not see where on earth it had come from, did not consume her. No… For some reason that he could not fathom, it swept around her in a circle and streamed high, as if pulled by a draught of wind, hiding her completely from view. He sucked in a breath, though Paul didn't have a chance to say or do anything before the fire fell away, embers fizzling out.

And…the woman was gone. She was there…yes…but different. Tall and almost demonic, she stood tall and almost nude, her skin a blistering red and dark horns rising from her mane of thick, dark hair. She had to be over seven feet tall, though Paul was hunkered down and perhaps that made her seem larger to him than she even was.

Yet he was not about to jump out there and greet her, no! What the hell even was she? A demon? A monster? Paul stayed as still as he could, even though his shaking set a leaf shivering.

“Ugh… Finally, out of that horrible form!" The strange, demonic woman said, stretching and flexing, though she had a strange manner of bikini-like, perhaps Middle-Eastern clothing draped from her, a long loincloth hanging between her legs – he didn't know. “Yes… Yes, this place will have to do."

Paul held his breath. And he would prove to be exceedingly grateful that she had her back to him, for he had no interest at all in being seen by her, even though he had no idea at all who she was, or even what she was. All Paul knew was that she didn't need to see him, just a man who, against her, most likely would not have been able to defend himself.

Abruptly, the woman yanked the bottom off her skimpy costume, the long loincloth thing, and laid on the ground in front of herself, exposing a round, bare set of buttocks to him. Paul blinked. What the hell?

Yet he couldn't do anything and did not want to attract her attention at all as she squatted, half-naked, right there in front of him, the ground around her still smoking. Why, there was even a little pile of ash on the ground too, where the flames had leapt and licked at the sky.

What the hell am I even looking at here?

_ _

That was a question, indeed, that Paul was going to find himself asking again and again as he watched her. He just couldn't drag his eyes away – and it all happened far too quickly for him even to do anything about it.

Not that he could do anything… Not as the strange, huge woman squatted and grunted faintly, pushing out the first of several big, thick logs of poo. He baulked, making a face, though he did not dare move all that much, even though his face contorted, his lower jaw falling slack with horror.

Who just pooped out there in the open like that? That was disgusting! Yet Paul was not in any place at all to complain as she pushed out that first log, even though it looked so large that it should never have come from a body. But was she even human?

“Unff…"

She grunted faintly, though it was clear that she thought she was alone and was not doing it for attention. The log of bodily waste was thick and long, coming out and out and out, and he gaped, realising that it was as thick as his wrist – which was no mean feat, not at all.

I must be fucking dreaming, been conked on the head or whatnot…

_ _

There was no way to tell and, in a way, he didn't want to find out either. He didn't need to find out the truth, not as that first big snake of poop dropped with a soft whump into the short grass, sending a little of the ash fluttering away. He would have whistled, impressed even if grossed out, at the length of it: even though he was a fisherman too, he was not overestimating it in any way when saying that it was two feet long.

That's messed up…

_ _

She wasn't stopping there, however, bearing down as she excreted another thick log, which was no less impressive. It was just a little bit thinner – which he could more easily compare when there was another poop lying on the ground under her bare buttocks. It was insane that he was there, hiding in the bushes while she went to the bathroom right there in front of him, something that he most certainly never would have ever believed if someone else had told him about it.

And what she was pushing out of her body… It just wasn't natural! Yet if she was a demon woman, maybe that was natural for her? How the hell was he supposed to know? Paul was transfixed, watching the horror show spill out before him, the woman shifting her weight, lightly, back and forth, as she adjusted her squat. It must have been difficult to hold that position for so long.

If that freak sees me, she'll kill me…

_ _

He gulped, though hoped that the sound, even then, was not too loud. He could not be caught, he would not be caught. No, to hell with it and back again – he was going to get through the weird as fuck, creepy situation one way or another! He more than knew how to sit still and be quiet, at the very least, so that was just what Paul was going to do.

If the deer didn't know he was coming, he'd make sure that the demon woman didn't either.

He didn't know who she was or that she could, legitimately, crush him with a single twitch of her finger. But he did know that he had to be quiet, stifling his grunt of horror as she pushed out the second log of waste in full, at least seventeen inches long with light crackling along the length. In a way, it looked a little firmer than the first, though he did not like that he was looking closely enough to tell that.

The demon woman, of course, believed that she was completely alone and did not shy away from exhaling haughtily as she pushed out another third log of waste. How the hell could she have so much inside her? Was that even possible? Maybe he had slipped and banged his head… That would be a more understandable explanation for everything that was going on…

And yet he still watched, watched her working on the third log of poop, how she bore down with her glutes, faintly, twitching as they clenched. He held his breath, though there was no untoward smell at all, just the natural, oddly charred scent of her body. If she had crawled her way up from the pits of hell themselves, that would make sense, what with all the fire and brimstone and crap.

But there was little time for him to consider that, not when she was grunting lightly and groaning, seemingly in need of going to the bathroom. The strange woman even had her hand on her lower stomach as if something was hurting. Maybe she had been waiting to go to the bathroom for a while?

She could have at least found a better bathroom… An actual bathroom.

_ _

But that wasn't up to Paul to say, one way or the other. He shook his head, minutely, barely tipping it back and forth, for she was still going. The third bowel movement was thicker again, but a little shorter, which could have been a relief. The colour was lighter, as if there had been a change in her diet, though he flinched softly, trying not to think about it. It was a relief, even to him, when it dropped to the ground with another soft thump, even if there was more to come.

It looked like it was never going to stop, not after the third poop, which was ten inches long, roughly, definitely under a foot in length. He swallowed hard, even though his mouth felt dry with horror, watching too intently as she worked on another – the shortest and quickest of them all. The fourth log of poop came out softly, as if it was easier for her to push out, a change of texture from the others, though had to be something more akin to normal at seven inches, or so, long.

The last, finally, slipped out smoothly, the woman letting out a long sigh as she shifted her weight back and forth. A dark, smooth log of poop eased out as if there was nothing to break it up, though there was a bit of tapering right at the very end where her sphincter clenched to help push it out.

“Ah… That is better."

Finally, she's done!

_ _

She had to be done, yes, for there could be no other reason for her shifting forward, leaving a rough pile of poop behind her, the last of which had been thick again and dark, reaching fifteen inches long. After the shorter one maybe he had grown a bit complacent…

She stood up tall, towering at her full height, though Paul's heart sank as he realised that he was mistaken.

For all the demoness did was step forward away from the pile to work on the largest poop yet. It did not even look like something that should have come from a body as it wormed and snaked its way out, thick enough to have some weight to it and yet soft enough that it made a gentle S-shape on the ground where she laid it down. The woman squatted low enough that her buttocks were four inches or so off the ground: an easy height for her to work on the needs of her body.

It took time, however, torturously slow, the fattest of all as it worked its way out, her body doing what it needed to do. Finally, hard enough to stay in one continuous piece without breaking, the end dropped to the ground, at last relieved, twenty-seven inches long and a monster of a poop. He gulped, clenching his jaw, his hand tight and squeezed into a fist.

Just stay quiet…

_ _

She didn't seem impressed by the enormity of what her body had produced, however, standing as fire blitzed its way around her for long enough for Paul to wonder if she was going to come out alive. Yet the cloak of flame fell away all the same as he was thinking about whether or not that was how she cleansed herself after going to the bathroom, the woman turning…and facing him.

His heart leapt into his throat, tightening there – yet he was fortunate in the fact that she was not looking at him. She peered down, examining the mound of excrement and the long, snaking poop, though he didn't know what she saw in it.

“Yes… That was necessary."

To his relief, she turned her back on him, her clothing taken with her, even though her lower half nudity did not seem to bother her in the slightest. Before she reached the edge of the clearing, she grunted, flames searing up around her as, at long last, she disappeared in a blast of flame, nothing more than a puff of smoke left behind her.

Still, he stayed there, hidden, waiting for his pulse to return to something akin to normal, heart in his mouth. It was wrong, so wrong, and he still did not know whether anything that he had seen there had been true or not, for there was no way for someone like him to know. It was ten minutes, barely breathing, before he was brave enough to shakily stand and walk out, rustling from the bush.

Something in him made him do it, pacing awkwardly, not steady on his feet, to the circle of ash. He avoided her poop, eyeing up the ash circle, something that was at least tangible enough to tell him that he was not crazy.

This is fucking insane…

_ _

He wasn't one to swear so much, even in his head, but it had to be done. He stepped well aside of her bodily waste, swallowing hard, though it did nothing at all to dispel the lump in his throat. Glancing around, he listened intently, making sure that he was alone, though…her poop garnered his attention, finally, right there in the centre of the ash circle, which, of course, he dared not step inside. He wasn't going that close to it.

The huge logs sat there, demanding attention, sitting on top of the ash with some hot embers, flickering and simmering, still burning. Smoke wafted faintly from it, adding to the reek in the air, and he gaped, shaking his head.

“This… This isn't real."

Yet it was. They were real, it had all been real. The morning sun shone above him, lighting up the clearing even in the crisp, fresh air, even that long, final poop horrifically defined in the sunshine. Now that Paul was up close to it, or as close as he was willing to get, he could see just how big it was, much thicker around than his wrist, though his mind was trying to make it even bigger in his mind than it actually was. It was something that he was apt to do. Yet, now that he was near, he could see, clearly, that it was a little over twenty-seven inches long, perhaps even closer to twenty-eight inches.

He wasn't about to go find something to measure it with, however. He flinched away from it, his neck stiff with tension.

Even though he'd been trying not to examine her waste like that, it was proving impossible not to. And he had to show himself that he wasn't going crazy.

But he couldn't stay there forever as he shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, turning to head back to his gear – and perhaps to pack up for his time out there.

And there she was. The demon woman loomed over him, looking down at him with bright yellow eyes that gleamed with an otherworldly glow, the edges undefined even as they narrowed. They locked onto him, seeming to see something in his soul that even Paul was unaware of.

He froze, her power washing over him, radiating through, though he still had his crossbow in his hands. Bringing it up instinctively, he fell prey to the notion that he could protect himself.

“Ah!"

It was hot! So hot that it burned his hands, leaving a streaky burn across the palm of his right hand where he had been applying the most pressure to the crossbow, though none of it mattered in the end.

She chuckled, shaking her head at him, pity emanating from her as he quailed, too fearful to even take a step back.

“Foolish human… Did you really believe I would not uncover you spying on me?"

Paul gripped his hands, instinctively trying to soothe away the burn, though it was not as if he was going to be allowed to dunk them in water, at the very least, anytime soon. He stuttered, fumbling with his words.

His life… He just had to get out of there with his life!

“S-spying? No! No, no, no, never! I'm s-sorry, I was hunting, here, in the area…and…and… Agh!"

He lunged for his neck, but his feet were dangling, eyes bulging, his airflow cut off as he hacked and spluttered, his body aching for air. Her large, red hand closed around his neck, stopping him from speaking, almost from breathing. The tiniest amount of air still slipped into his lungs, but she wasn't interested in ending his life.

Dropping him, she brushed off the stink of human from her hands.

“You…shall refer to me as Mistress," she said, clearly enunciating her words so that there could be no fear of him misunderstanding her. “I am Lady Blaze, your Mistress. You will speak only when spoken to. Attack me, or attempt to, again and I will see you as nothing more than a mound of ash. And a small one at that. Do you understand, weakling?"

He gulped, still gasping for air, tears watering in his eyes.

“Ah… Yes…"

He choked out the response – but it was still not the correct one as anger flashed across her face, eyes narrowing.

“Ah – Yes, Mistress!"

He forced out the words, though he didn't want to call her that, didn't want to call anyone that. But if he could get out of things alive, maybe he could find his way away from her, or she would get bored, leave him alone, something like that. Anything at all to give him hope.

“Mmm, that's somewhat better, little human," she said. “You will learn your place… Quickly. Serve me, obey me. You will be rewarded. That should be simple enough for you to understand. Disobey me and, well…the consequences have already been laid out for you."

He looked down. She smiled, pleased with his progress, apparently, though he only kept an eye on her, peering up through his eyelashes.

“I have uses for faithful servants and I can be a gracious Mistress…when the mood pleases me. Now… Kneel."

He couldn't do anything other than kneel before her, dropping quickly into position, even as his burned hands still seared. The weight of a heavy, iron collar fell around his neck and he tried not to show any outward indication of his inner feelings, the twisting, roiling horror and disgust that coursed through him.

“You have now entered my service. Follow me."

Paul stood on her command, hating how quickly he obeyed, even though it was an act of self-preservation. He looked around, helpless, as if he thought that there was someone there, someone that would be able to save him from his fate. Yet there was no one – no one but his Mistress, Lady Blaze.

She swept her hand through the air, opening a blistering portal dancing with the hottest of blue flames, standing aside with a calculating look in her eye.

“Enter."

Fear clawed at him – yet his fear of his Mistress was greater still. So, all he could do was step through the portal, avoiding the flames and hopping over the lower edge of them, a dark room greeting him. It was lit only with torches on the wall, the walls rough as if they were hewn from natural stone, though there was nothing fine about them. The burning torches flickered faintly, not as bright as the fire that Lady Blaze created, a small cot set up at the far end of the room, though the entire room was not large at all. Bare and empty, it boasted no windows, with only what looked to be a heavy, metal door set into one wall.

“This is your quarters," Lady Blaze said, the portal of flame closing behind her as she stepped through. “Care for it."

Someone knocked on the door, making Paul jump, though there was nowhere for him to hide, not unless he wanted to scurry behind Lady Blaze like a startled rat.

Lady Blaze didn't seem concerned by the knocking at all.

“Enter."

Straight away, a small demon, shorter than Paul at five feet tall, in strangely odd, dented armour, walked in. He was hunched over, though still very recognisable as a demon, appearing weathered and aged, as if his time there had not been kind to him in the slightest. Paul backed away from him, coming up against the wall, though the demon did not pay him any mind.

The demon bowed low, scraping his nose on the floor. Paul stiffened. Would he be expected to do that too?

“What are your orders, Mistress?"

“Prepare dinner and, afterwards, show my new servant around my base. He needs to be taken through the work he will be doing. I will take my dinner, now, in my chambers."

“Yes, Mistress, I have been working on dinner all afternoon, Mistress," the smaller demon said. “I hope it will be to your satisfaction."

Lady Blaze, for once, boasted a slight smile on her lips, tugging at the corners of them.

“Your dinners have indeed been acceptable lately, Jamrag," she said, allowing Paul to know the name of the demon. “You are improving."

Jamrag's face lit up as Paul observed him, though he was unsure if, to his eye, the demon seemed very pleased or not. It was hard to read a face like that, despite everything. Maybe it would be something that could come clearer to him in time, even if he didn't understand any of it and didn't want to be there at all.

Many things, like his fate, had twisted right out of his seared hands, however. Lady Blaze strode from the room without even dismissing Paul, teleporting away in a flash of flame before she had even walked through the door. It looked like that was something that she was going to be doing pretty often, though he kind of hoped that he wouldn't be around for long enough to tell one way or the other.

Left alone with the short demon, Paul flinched, feeling all the aches and pains in his body, even though his hands drew the majority of his attention. Jamrag looked him up and down with a shrewd look on his face, muttering something under his breath that Paul could not quite decipher. Pushed away from the wall, he grunted as the demon circled him, looking him over from every angle, even grabbing at his arms and legs and pulling them out from his body, as if he was trying to see whether or not they worked.

“Hm… Healthy enough, for here. Physical labour, yes… We need that right now, Mistress is having parts of her chambers expanded on."

He snapped his fingers, addressing Paul directly.

“Stay out of her way, complete your tasks and don't dare complain. You'll manage. Either way, you won't be my problem."

Paul opened his mouth, a million questions on the tip of his tongue, though Jamrag was too quick for him.

“I need to take care of dinner for Mistress. Be prepared for a tour in an hour or two."

The demon left through the metal door, slamming it behind him. It slammed into the frame with a colossal shudder that echoed through the room, his ears ringing. Paul had not been quick enough to bring his hands up to cover his ears, however, forced to bear the resounding clamour aching through his skull and the rest of his body too.

The clank of the lock sinking home, however, told him that he was left there, alone. There was no one to explain his new life and what the true weight of the heavy collar around his neck meant. He touched it briefly, shuddering from the cool metal, the way in which it did not seem to warm to the heat of his body. Even around him, everything was hot, blistering and burning, making him sweat.

He didn't know what else to do, slipping away in his mind, as if he could no longer process the reality of his situation or come to grips with it in any way. No… All he could do was sit down, slowly, on the cot, folding his legs, trying to find a way to come to some normality.

Yet there was none, not as he pressed his pained hands to his face, taking some manner of comfort in the sensation, despite everything. The pain was something that he knew, something that he understood, although there was only so much that that could help him with. He needed treatment, treatment that he was not going to get.

A scream cut through the air and it took him several long moments before he realised that the sound, in fact, was coming from him.

---

Vignette Three

---

Power Girl's perspective

Power Girl was teaming up with Arisia, Star Sapphire and Bleez – all of whom she had worked with before, so it was a relief to be familiar with her teammates for a mission. She was getting more comfortable with them over time, even though Bleeze was a Red Lantern, that time on a Green Lantern mission. She was, however, very powerful and more than able to help out if things went wrong. She had in the past, after all, and was proving herself to be increasingly trustworthy, despite her rage, before aiding in fighting off robot upon robot in an all-out war. She would be easily capable of fighting off millions of robots if a security alarm was raised down there too.

The planet Robotica was their target that time and they were attempting to sneak into a high-security building where there were rumours that an army was being built. Regardless of what was going on there, on the planet populated entirely by robots, they had determined that they had to gather more intelligence on what was going on there.

And they couldn't let the robots invade another planet, for they had already caused more than enough destruction where Braniac had manipulated them before too. Their theory was that Braniac had gained control of the mainframe infrastructure once more, manipulating things on a greater scale – which was worrying, to put it simply. A lot of the complicated things in their life could be boiled down to the simple, even if they all had to look, continuously, at the larger picture and scale of everything.

They tried to stay out of view as they landed in a bare, abandoned area outside the city centre to scope out the security. The heavily guarded building, however, was off in the distance, the air thick with drones and flying robots that would alert the enemy to their presence if they so much as breathed in the wrong direction.

“We can't get any closer, not yet," Star Sapphire murmured, passing a pair of high-tech binoculars to Arisia to check too. “They'll be on us in seconds."

Power Girl hunkered down, looking up close at the building, her X-ray vision giving her a boost as she looked straight into the building, though using it for so long sometimes made her head ache. It was limited too by how far away she was, only able to see through one, maybe two, walls from such a distance.

Power Girl sighed, resisting the urge to rub her head.

“There seem to be power lines running through the whole building," she said, blinking as she looked more closely, tracking them. “The security system is beyond anything we have dealt with before, we can't just blast our way or sneak in through the main entrance this time."

She looked down, underground, her lips twitching into a smile. Ah! That would work! A tunnel… But where did it come out? It could have been just about large enough for a person to crawl through, though they would have to get in there and closer to really tell.

Just as she was about to speak up, however, about her discovery, Bleez interjected sharply.

“Before we go closer – I need to go to the bathroom! Wait for me here!"

Bleez had always been like that, a little brash and a little harsh, always jumping into the next thing. Rage and anger, after all, could flare up like that and that was simply going to be the way of it, especially for someone like her. She always got the job done, however, and she must have been really on edge and in need for her to be quite that outspoken.

Power Girl sighed. She only wished that she had gotten the chance to tell them about the tunnel first, or someone else might get in ahead of her.

Bleez swore under her breath, an angry stream of mutterings, as she stomped off, her red, skeletal wings flickering with flames. Power Girl knew better than to roll her eyes at her, though she could not help, even then, but sympathise.

Arisia blinked at Bleez, the tiniest of shakes to her head.

“That one… But, actually, I really need to go too," Arisia said, rising as she put down her binoculars. “It's better to make sure everything is taken care of before progressing. I'll join you, Bleez."

“Whatever the fuck you want, hellfire, my stomach…"

Power Girl chuckled faintly, though not loud enough for Bleez to hear her. She knew when to be sensible around the Red Lantern, though sometimes wondered how Arisia felt about working with her. Not everything was out in the open between the superheroes, after all.

Arisia's cheeks were a little redder than usual as she followed Bleez, though it seemed that Bleez had set off a chain reaction, being the first to mention that she needed to take a bowel movement. To be fair, it had been the way of it with their little group in the past.

Star Sapphire caught Power Girl's eye, giving a half-shrug.

“Um… Yes, I think I am going to go as well, to take advantage of the time before the mission. There's no telling if there'll be a quiet space in there."

Power Girl nodded, not trusting herself to speak aloud, not yet. It was not needed anyway, not when there was a mutual agreement and understanding between them all when it came to relieving themselves. It was something that they, with their superpowers, had to do more often than those without, both due to the energy expended and the amount of food that they ate to sustain those very energy levels. What went in had to come out, after all, and their bodies utilised the energy sources differently.

It was something that they all knew, though didn't often speak about. Whether they were embarrassed about it or more practical, like Wonder Woman had been in the past, was another question entirely and not one that was often opened up to any room.

“Come on," Star Sapphire said, offering Power Girl her hand. “We should stay together, in case anything happens. This isn't a safe area for any one of us to be alone."

Bleez had ducked into a nearby alley, a little on the narrow side, though they all fed down after her, Power Girl the last of them all. To her surprise, it was clean and pristine, even if she would not have said clinically so, but the robots neither created mess nor waste in that matter, so it was to be expected as a whole. Robotica was not a place that any of them wanted to visit or linger in for all that long, regardless of how even the abandoned areas were cleansed.

The metal walls behind her gleamed in the bright afternoon sunshine, though the metal floor in the shade was disconcerting to her, playing tricks on her vision, even if only briefly. It was briefer than it would have been for a human but enough that she flinched and faltered for a heartbeat of a moment.

Both Arisia and Bleez had gotten down to business already and were squatting down right at the end of the alley, close up to one another against the metal wall. It was a dead end down there, though Power Girl shifted her eyes away as soon as she realised that Bleez didn't seem to have produced anything at all. She might have been struggling, the bottom part of her suit having been unzipped at the bottom and pulled up at the waist, so that she revealed only as much of herself as was needed.

Arisia, on the other hand, already had two thick logs of poop under her, both of them at least eight inches long, though the longer one seemed to be pushing on ten inches, easily so. Power Girl's eyes moved over her too, though she was not quite as embarrassed about her bowel movements as she had been before. Having had to go through it, multiple times, with the other superheroes made it so that she was starting to see it as more of a practicality, even though she didn't want to be all that obvious about it still. She would have much preferred to do her business in private, like most got to do.

Star Sapphire crouched down near the other two and pulled down the pants of her suit, exposing herself neatly, though Power Girl took a little more distance, lining up alongside Star Sapphire. Power Girl's suit was all one piece, so it was more inconvenient for her, though she had to make do. Otherwise, she quite honestly loved how her suit looked.

Just focus on it…

_ _

She had not been desperate to go, so it was more difficult for her to bear down and excrete what was ready to come out from her bowels. It was just a bodily function, she thought to herself, pushing and trying to allow her body to do what it needed to do, taking a little while before being able to produce any poop at all from her body.

Still, it came, even as the others got on with things. She squeezed and breathed a sigh of relief as the first log of poop pushed out, feeling it more than seeing it, for she didn't bother, not that time, looking back. She would do the usual check on them afterwards, for health reasons only. That was something too that she had picked up from another superhero.

The first poop eased out, though it was not too difficult, for which she was grateful. She could not have said, honestly, but it felt like she had not gone to the bathroom all that long ago, which was good. It was good not to feel like her stomach was rumbling and grumbling, doing that odd thing where it churned and ached with need, though she had not gotten to that stage in very long.

She pushed it out, dropping the first log and immediately working on the next. It slid out easily as she worked away at it, letting her mind go blank, even though her senses were still heightened, keeping an eye on her surroundings. Power Girl was at least relieved that there were others there watching her back at the same time. It made it easier to ignore the slight pressure in her stomach and focus on excreting, without worrying too much, the press of her muscles working on the bowel movement.

It was a small thing, really, but kind of a luxury when she was used to going in short and quick locations, sometimes when her body was urgently demanding that she take the time to look after herself too. The gurgle and discomfort of her stomach was something that Power Girl was all too familiar with.

Dropping the second log with a soft thump of it hitting the ground, Power Girl breathed out and relaxed a little. It did not feel like there was all that much in her body even though it was still a lot more than what a human would produce, or someone without her powers. The size of her bowel movements had shocked her years ago when she had first used her powers to the extent that she was able.

Finally, though it had not been all that long at all, she pushed out the last poop, feeling relieved even though she had not thought, before, that she had needed to go to the bathroom all that badly. She cleansed herself and tugged her outfit back into place, every fold and wrinkle in exactly the place that it was meant to be, for she didn't like any clothing of hers pulling into awkward spots of her body when she was fighting or squeezing through narrow gaps. That tunnel didn't look good at all.

She stood, checking back just to see how her bowel movements were, though she didn't have any concerns at that time about her health. They were a nice, even colour, mid-shade, and crackled very faintly, as they were moderately firm and easy for her to push out. The middle poop lay over the first neatly, though it looked like the third had rolled aside. The largest, the second poop, was twelve inches long, though the first was nearly the same at eleven inches, give or take a little. Only the third was ten inches long, the smallest of them, though it was thick around and wide, despite Power Girl not having felt it.

Star Sapphire was already dressed and checking out the machinery in the alley, her lips slightly parted. The machinery, which worked and forever whirred throughout Robotica, seemed to be connected to the building at the end of the alleyway, though it was unfamiliar to Power Girl, based on her experience so far. Power Girl tipped her head towards it, just to hear a little better, though she could hear the mechanical whirr and click of the machinery lining the walls without straining.

Wherever they went in Robotica, there was activity, even though they were in an area that didn't seem to have any robots walking around, or even flying. At least, that was from what they had observed when landing, initially, in the area.

Glancing to her left, Power Girl could not help but see both Arisia and Star Sapphire's piles of bodily waste, her cheeks colouring a little bit, no matter how much she told herself that it was a normal bodily function. She was just trying to maintain their privacy too and, sometimes, it was tricky not to pick up on second-hand embarrassment, even though she was more than okay with it by that time.

Their piles of poop were similar to hers, in how they were placed and piled less than neatly on the ground, though Power Girl raised an eyebrow, curious at what she had seen. As usual, she didn't mean to stare, but her curiosity got the better of her, one way or the other. While Star Sapphire had a modest pile of two, thick logs, she had mistaken some of Arisia's for Star Sapphire's initially, when she had just been taking a quiet look out of the corner of her eye.

The two thick logs of bodily waste were roughly seventeen and a whopping nineteen inches long, so big that Power Girl was glad that it had not been her that had had to excrete that bowel movement. They looked as if they had been very difficult and awfully hard to push out, even though Star Sapphire did not seem taken aback or bothered in the slightest, which was good as far as Power Girl was concerned. She still wanted everyone on her team to be comfortable.

Still, they drew the eye and she shook her head minutely at the sight of them, smooth with one more tapered at the end as if that was where Star Sapphire had pushed out the latter end of it. If she had been someone else, perhaps Power Girl would have asked her if she was okay, though she knew that Star Sapphire liked to get down to business and through it all as quickly as possible. One of the two thick poops was balanced at an angle over the top of the other, but it was not making itself known all that much, for Arisia had excreted a huge pile of many, many logs. Power Girl paused, blinking at them, though her embarrassment on Arisia's part easily faded while her interest got the better of her.

How had so much come from Arisia? Had she really been in need? And how many were there? Twelve…thirteen…maybe even thirteen if that was indeed another tucked away right there on the bottom. It was hard to say and Power Girl pulled her torso back slightly as she baulked, more than a little surprised at what was going on with Arisia.

At least with Arisia, the poops were, at worst, seventeen inches, though she had definitely produced more than Star Sapphire in terms of volume. The smallest was roughly five inches long, though the majority of the poops were over ten inches, a dark shade at first and then lightening as the bowel movement went on, apparently, some softer and squashing into other logs of poop, but most hard and firm enough that it looked like they hadn't been an issue at all to push out. The pile, to say the least of it all, dwarfed Star Sapphire's pile by far. But the change in colour of them too hinted at the notion that they had been more difficult to excrete still, something that Power Girl's lips twitched in sympathy at.

Even if, well, she had been fairly staring, her eyes meeting Arisia's.

Arisia gulped and half-shrugged, glancing back at Power Girl, who had been caught looking, to be fair.

“I was in a bit of a desperate situation," she admitted, her cheeks tinged with red. “It's been a while, I'm sorry."

“Don't be sorry at all," Star Sapphire dropped in as Power Girl nodded her agreement swiftly. “There's nothing at all to be embarrassed about."

“Yes," Power Girl added, softening her smile. “It's better to deal with it before the mission, we all have to take care of these things."

However, there was one of them, while Power Girl, Arisia and Star Sapphire ensured everything was in place with their outfits, that was not faring quite as well. Bleez was still crouched down at the end of the alley, the furthest away from Power Girl in their line. A string of curses leapt from her lips and Bleez appeared to be sweating, looking as if, for all intents and purposes, she no longer cared about them being quiet and undercover there.

“Ugh!"

“Bleez?" Power Girl tried to gently draw her attention. “Are you okay?"

Bleez cast her a dark look.

“Yes, I'm fine, this damned thing just won't come out!"

Bleez struggled, grunting, though more quietly then, knowing that attention was on her. She had what seemed to be just the end of an exceedingly long, thick poop hanging partway out of her, obstinately hanging on.

Power Girl, respectfully, turned around to give Bleez privacy. However, her head picked up quickly, catching something with her enhanced hearing that she had not been expecting to hear.

“Ah…" She whispered, touching Arisia's arm to draw her attention. “There's a robot coming. We've got to do something, Bleez will be caught otherwise."

“Yes, we can't have them raise the alarm, we've not even gotten in yet," Arisia said, seemingly holding something back. “What should we do?"

Power Girl straightened, pushing her shoulder blades back.

“We need to hide – Bleez too!"

They whirled on Bleez, even when they had been trying to let her take her time.

“Bleez!" Power Girl hissed through her teeth. “We need to hide, there's a robot – come on! If it raises the alarm, we're not even going to get out of here easily! The mission will be blown!"

Bleez grunted, shooting her another look that spoke even louder than her snarled, snapped curses, a hissing stream of them swirling through every breath.

“I'm not done yet!" She growled. “I can't exactly just stop with this thing hanging out of me!"

Bleez swore more quietly that time, understanding the urgency, but was able to give a final, big push, her muscles contracting. She couldn't go with her poop still half out of her, though Power Girl shifted her weight anxiously back and forth. Inactivity was the worst thing of all to her, wanting to get going, to press on, to do something, anything, to get some movement into her body.

Yet there was Bleez, the seconds seeming to draw out more and more, even though all of it was just Power Girl's adrenaline kicking in, the thick rope of poop dragging on the ground behind Bleez. It was too heavy to remain suspended from her backside while she did her best to poop it all out, though Bleez squeezed obviously, her glutes tensing, unable to do anything else while the poop juddered lightly against the ground. It was so dark too, and it had to have been hard, though Power Girl's nerves jumped as the robot grew closer and closer and closer.

They had to go and waiting there just wasn't natural to her!

Finally, Bleez was able to expel the poop more quickly, urgency driving her on. With a massive, thick rope of poop shooting from her in the next couple of seconds, Bleez' sigh of absolute relief filled the air, louder even than her swearing and cursing. At thirty-one inches, it was the biggest poop that Power Girl had seen and her lower jaw fell ever so slightly slack, her lips just slightly parted. She would not have been so rude as to let her jaw hang anyway.

Bleez rushed, putting her suit back together quickly, for which Power Girl was grateful. Checking the alley quickly, her eyes locked onto a door and saw only machinery in the room on the other side, using her X-ray vision. With the sound of the robot nearing them more and more with every second that painstakingly dared to pass, it would have to do.

“Quick!" She hissed. “In here!"

Grabbing the handle, she yanked it open, relieved that it was not locked, though the majority in Robotica was unlocked – unless there was something that Braniac wanted to keep private behind it. With the door swinging open, all four of them dashed inside with due haste, Bleez the last of their group, the door bumping closed less than discreetly on her heels. Her chest rose and fell more sharply and quickly than it should have, though there was only so much that any of them could do in a moment like that, as prepared to fight as they were to get themselves off the planet and out of trouble if it came down to that. It was just meant to be a more discreet kind of mission that they were on at that time.

The dark room appeared abandoned, with no light at all in there, bar from the flickering machinery, lights jumping and dancing, as if they were trying to get the attention of those in there. Power Girl held her breath, not breathing heavily at all, and turned on her X-ray vision to check out what was going on outside. The robot entered the alley, right at the end only, and paused.

“Damn it…"

She breathed out, even as the others looked at her confused, not sure what she was seeing. Maybe, that time, they did not quite dare ask. They were all well-used to missions going awry, however, and all could be well enough trusted to get themselves out of more difficult situations if the need arose. Even when those difficult situations so very often were centred around bowel movements and bodily waste, though that was often the case for them.

The robot hesitated, slowly walking down the alleyway, Power Girl's hearing picking up on what it was saying. The digital voice, as ever, unnerved her, making her feel like the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up.

“Unacceptable," the robot said, though Power Girl was the only one that could hear it. “Foreign material detected."

What was it talking about? Power Girl scanned the alley. Had they left a piece of clothing behind? A robot might consider that to be foreign material, after all.

“Code one-four-two-two-bee," it reeled off, rattling very faintly, though it was almost a displeased kind of rattle. “Removal required. Commencing removal."

Was it a cleaning robot? Was it one of the reasons that the streets around there were as clean as they were? It was hard to say, even then, while Power Girl watched a vacuum of some kind slide out from its midsection, pointing towards…

Ah.

_ _

Of course. The robot had not found them or their clothes, though its senses had detected the foreign material of their bowel movements, which made sense. They hadn't even thought to clean that up, with what a hurry they had been in, and the superheroes were not in the practice of burying or tidying away their bowel movements either, considering that they would relieve their bodies in unconventional places that were usually well out of the way of anyone else.

The robot sucked up the waste without any concern for what it was in the slightest, log after log of poop sliding up into it, though it surely had some way to dispose of the foreign matter that it had detected too. Like one of the ones that could go around the homes of humans down on Earth, when they didn't have the time to keep their homes clean in more conventional, hands-on manners. Power Girl was not all that invested in that kind of thing, however.

It suctioned up Arisia's first, not seeming to work its way through in any order, though that was also the largest pile of separate poops, which seemed to take quite a while. Some of the things were not clear with her X-ray vision, especially with the logs shooting up into the vacuum tube, whizzing into the machine, one after the other.

It moved onto Bleez' then, which took the longest, apparently. It had the long, thick rope that was thirty-one inches long, after all, to content with, pushing up with a slow slide into the tube, showing just how heavy it was. Bleez' waste did not need more attention than that as the robot took care of Star Sapphire's two thick poops in due course, as if it was no different at all to what it did daily.

Of course, Power Girl was sure that the robot would not have had to clean up poop like that, or any poop at all, normally. Or maybe there were things about Robotica that even she didn't know, things that she could not be privy too. Frankly, she didn't want to know either.

The robot moved on to the final pile of waste: her own with three logs of poop, the soft ones and the hard single one. They were simple for it to clean up, though there was still something disconcerting about seeing her waste being sucked up into a device and not going down a toilet, if something like that was to be involved. She shook her head, ignoring the others staring at her. they could wait just a moment longer, for it was with a sort of morbid fascination that she couldn't take her eyes away from the sight before her, how her three poops were sucked up, never to be seen again. It was almost kind of nice, in a strange way, to not have to look at it anymore. If she could have had a personal robot like that, if it was quiet, to clean up her bowel movements, she would have considered it to be nice and clean, regardless of anything else.

The others might have had something to say about it, however, as it rumbled and sucked, putting everything away that it needed to.

“What's going on?"

Power Girl shook her head at Bleez, who was trying to push her way in closer, as if she too could see through the walls.

“Wait… It's not interested in us…"

She breathed quietly, not wanting to raise her voice too much, in case it attracted the attention of the robot all over again. But the robot was only interested in vacuuming up the bowel movements with short, jerky, efficient twitches of the vacuum tube with a wide head to get everything easily inside. The loud churn of the suction filled the air, audible even inside the room. The noise was even louder when there were no poops left to be cleaned up, the poor maintenance robot having done an exceptionally good job indeed.

After a minute, the robot seemed satisfied that the alley was cleaned and returned the vacuum to its belly. It gave a few clicks as she watched, the others crowding in close to her, even Bleez. Bleez who was, thankfully, decent again.

“Foreign material removed," it said aloud. “Returning to original route. Commencing walk sequence."

The robot clanked and clicked its way from the alley, allowing Power Girl to finally relax. It was quieter than some she had seen in the past and was at least glad that she had not missed its approach. Who would have known what could have happened if it had seen them in the alley or, at worst, caught Bleez in the middle of her bowel movement?

She exhaled, releasing tension. Some things really were not worth thinking about at all. They had a job still to be done and that was where her focus had to be.

“It's leaving, it's okay," she said to the others, assuaging their fears. “It's just heading out of the alley now and…it looks like it was just a maintenance robot."

Only when she was sure that the robot was far away and that there were no others within hearing distance, even her super hearing, did she let the others out of the room, stepping back into the alley.

They couldn't miss it. Arisia blushed and turned away, the first to notice that the piles of waste were gone, though Bleez and Star Sapphire only raised an eyebrow briefly, barely a twitch in their expressions. They knew they had to be focused on the mission and nothing else, not even their embarrassment over a robot cleaning up their poop, could distract them from it.

Power Girl took a breath. Well, that had been a detour and a half!

“Let's go," she said, moving things along. “I've seen a tunnel, going into the basement of the target building. We need to work on a plan to get inside, what we're going to find in there. Come on."

She beckoned them decisively back to their lookout spot, settling back down with the binoculars to observe and plan where they had a vantage point on a low building.

From there, they would be able to complete their mission. But only time would tell just where their poop ended up, courtesy of the helpful maintenance robot that had made sure that nothing at all was left behind.

---

Vignette Four

---

Steve Trevor's perspective, US Navy Pilot

_ _

Steve knew that she was strange, though Diana, Diana Prince, had saved him and he felt, in a way, that he was still getting to know her. The leaders of her community had asked her to return him back to his homeland – he didn't know how else to explain to the Amazonians that it was on a continent, not “a land," or that they didn't refer to it quite like that – of the United States.

Either way, he was heading home, having travelled for several days already in a boat and heading through the Alaskan wilderness in search of a city. Apparently, however, Diana had never been in a human city or the like, not their kind of civilisation, which was going to become increasingly apparent to him throughout their time together.

The thick forest layered the lower slopes of the mountains, hundreds of miles seemingly behind them, though they had finally reached a gas station. Steve muttered to himself as he headed in to at least try the telephone, not wanting to make Diana follow him and guide him for too much longer, but, of course, it was dead.

“Agh, come on…"

Steve groaned and muttered more fervently under his breath as he tried the dial again and tried to check if the phone was hooked up, though the gas station itself didn't look as if it was all that populated. Even though it was clean in there, more or less, and the shelves looked moderately stocked, it was still out in the middle of nowhere, the land around them more remote than Steve had understood prior.

Yet…the windows were dirty too, smudged up and the forecourt was overgrown. He sighed, stepping away from the half-covered phone cubicle on the outside of the building.

It had to have been abandoned, though he couldn't tell when. Scanning his gaze around, he eyed the old fuel pumps, some cracking, warily, a few oil derricks set in the distance, though they did not seem to have moved in quite some time, at least to his eye.

Maybe the area had been a boom town that had struck oil? He mused over what could have happened. If they had struck oil and then run out, the usual story would have played out: everyone would have then left for better prospects, not caring for all that they left behind.

“Never mind…"

He was sure that he would still get back to where he needed to be, though it was turning out to be a more laborious and strenuous journey than he had originally thought it would be. Maybe he had underestimated things but his life had changed beyond anything that he had ever considered when he had met Diana.

Frankly, Steve was just grateful that he had been saved.

Where was Diana? He headed around to the back of the gas station, wondering if she was scoping out the area. She was prone to wander, though it was as if she was always on alert, always looking out for danger. He was used to that too, though in a different context.

“Ah!"

She was so close to him, right around the back corner of the gas station, that he almost fell over her, stumbling back and catching himself just in the nick of time. Yet…things were not normal, not as he found her squatting down against the wall with her pants pulled down, going to the bathroom as if it was the most normal thing in the world. And it wasn't just a “number one" either!

“Oh!"

He jumped back, though not in time to cover his eyes, staring at her in horror as Diana glanced up at him, as if she was not even bothered that he was there. However, the large log of poop was large: much, much larger than anything he had ever produced in his life. He could not help but stare, even though it was only for a long second, longer than should have ever been appropriate for anyone to look at any going to the bathroom.

It dropped to the ground, breaking the connection while he muttered and mumbled and tried to get an apology out of his mouth, even though it seemed quite as if it didn't want to leave his lips. Just what was going on with him?

Diana sighed gently, carrying on with precisely what she was doing. Already, even after excreting a log of poop that was as large as the first one, she was working on the second, bearing down lightly, though it was all as if it was a perfectly normal, everyday occurrence for her.

And that poop… He should have not glanced back, even if horror sank into the pit of his stomach. It was long, so very long, coiling around and around itself as Diana looked quizzically up at him. She seemed surprised that he hadn't said anything proper, or even just walked on around her.

“Do you need something?" She asked, as polite as ever, even though she spoke directly and to the point at all times. “I will be ready in a moment."

“Ah!"

He fumbled backwards, kicking his right heel with his left foot, realising too late that he had been staring the whole time. But he hadn't exactly expected to literally run into her going to the bathroom right there behind the gas station of all places! Didn't she know to…well…find a bush or something? Somewhere a little more private?

And he had been staring the whole time – oh, damn!

“I-I d-d-didn't mean to… Oh, sorry!"

He whirled around, all in a flap over having come across her in such an embarrassing, compromising position, red heat rushing to his cheeks.

How embarrassing…

_ _

He didn't know who should have been more embarrassed however: him or Diana. Just none of it, none at all, made any sense, not as he turned his back on her, all so that he could more easily give her the privacy she deserved. Still, it was rude to just stand there, awkwardly fumbling and shifting his weight, not saying anything to her when there was still an air of expectancy around Diana.

“I… Uh…" He had to say something. “I checked the telephone; the door was open too… But the electric lines are dead, there's no computer left here that's working. No power at all, uh…"

He didn't usually mess up his words that much. He was usually well-spoken – he'd had to be. And yet Diana made him nervous like he had never been before, acting so out of the ordinary that he didn't know how to think of things otherwise.

“That's unfortunate," Diana said from behind him. “We shall have to continue to search for an inhabited town. I am now finished, you can turn around."

Ah, so he was meant to give her privacy. That was good to know, though he still mumbled yet another apology and anxiously rubbed the back of his neck as he shuffled around. It even felt as if the rounded tips of his ears were flickering with heat, the embarrassment of what he had seen getting into even the bones and sinew of his body. It was most certainly not a story that Steve was ever going to ever repeat to anyone else!

However, turning around was as much of a mistake as walking in on her had been. For she was completely dressed and, indeed, ready to continue, but her poop was not. He didn't know what he had expected, though Diana had moved several feet away from it, her eyes flicking to the horizon and then back to him, allowing the pile of excrement to be seen in all its glory.

It was…huge. There was no other word for it – or no other word that wanted to leap to his mind at that moment. Just a huge mound of poop laid up against the wall, two very long logs at fifteen and then at least eighteen inches long settled in against one another, their sides brushing very lightly. That was shocking enough, yet there was another continuous log that had coiled around itself.

He did his best to stifle his worry and concern, no matter how it boiled up in the back of his throat. He was not revolted, not in any way, but shock pressed through him roughly, coarsely demanding that he pay attention to it, to not look away, even though there was a more sensible part of his mind that knew that he had to.

Afterwards. After he had taken in every strange detail about the curled, sausage-like poop that seemed soft enough to mould into that shape and yet had the crackled texture of something firm too, something healthy. He was sure that there was nothing wrong with it, not from Diana's perspective, for she did not seem concerned in the slightest, yet he would have most likely been in a hospital of some kind if he had ever made anything at all even slightly like that come out of his body.

He'd never seen a single poop like that, not even from an animal. It sat aside from the other mound, coiled up into a mountain, tall enough that she could not have squatted down too low to the ground to push it from her body.

“Ah… Um-hm…"

He coughed and cleared his throat, realising, once again, that he had been staring. Diana didn't seem bothered by it, which was something at the very least, though he still wanted to be moderate, to be respectful. Still, there were no words that he could say that made anything any better, merely wringing his hands together and hoping that someone, anyone, would save him from the embarrassment.

Diana eyed him up speculatively, taking him in as much as he had taken her in.

“Have you never seen someone excrete a bowel movement before?"

She seemed curious rather than embarrassed, which threw Steve off more than anything else. The way in which she held herself, set as if she was interested in him. He didn't like feeling like a specimen and yet there was most certainly no malicious intent in Diana. He had never felt that from her, not even once.

She put her hands on her hips and looked expectantly at him when he did not immediately answer.

“I… Uh…" He tried to find the right words, knowing that he was the one being rude. “No… No… I apologise, I… I didn't mean to interrupt you, I wasn't trying to stare. Um…"

He paused, looking down, the heat in his face so warm that he swore it was burning. Before, he had thought that that was just something that over dramatic people said, when they were trying to make a point, but it was something that he genuinely felt.

How surreal…

_ _

So much about his life had become surreal in recent weeks, though that could change one day, maybe. He wasn't even sure about that anymore.

Diana cut in, even though he hadn't said all that he wanted to.

“There is nothing to be sorry for," she said, seeming a little confused, though he did catch on to her gentler tone. “Nor embarrassed, I can see that in you, even if I don't understand it. Everything is fine. It's a natural bodily function that I simply needed to deal with before moving on. Nothing more and nothing less than that."

She laughed faintly, shaking her head, though Steve still did not see the amusement in any of it. They were not even trying to make light of an otherwise difficult situation.

“I would have been very uncomfortable if I did not deal with it," she said firmly, as if that was the end of the matter. “It just needed to be done."

“Ah… Yes…"

He felt like he had to say something, even if it was all so strange to him to be so casual about excrement. And, still, that mound of bowel movements was there, staring at him, daring him to look back at it, to be just as rude again as he had been already.

He would, however, hold fast that time.

“Yes, that's completely understandable," he finally managed to say, trying his very best to be professional and calm. “Let us move on…" He sighed, turning his attention ahead. “We may still have a long way to go."

And all on foot so far, after the boat. Oof.

Diana nodded.

“Lead the way, let us see where today takes us."

Steve didn't know where to go, though it seemed that it was on his head to consider where they were going to head onwards. Thankfully for him, he did have a map, pulling it out and studying it, striving to find the old gas station on there. He couldn't locate that, though there was the forest that they had been travelling through and the peaks could be matched up, along with the river. He hadn't gotten as far as he had and survived only to be thwarted by something like a place not being named on a map, after all. Who knew if the gas station would ever last for long enough to earn a name?

“Here… This looks like the closest town," he said, pointing it out to her on the map, though it was not the kind of map that Diana was used to reading. “We can try this way. It may still be abandoned but we will try that next."

She nodded again and he took a breath as he took out his compass, still trying his best to ignore her poop while he settled their direction with the compass, lining it up with the map.

Regardless of what Diana did or didn't do with her bowel movements, they had somewhere to get to. And he wasn't sure that she was going to stay around him for much longer at all after she had dropped him off.

They were just different. And her bowel movements were just the start of it.

Even if they all needed to poop, at some time or the other.