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The Need to Relieve Oneself…

…Even when She's a Superhero

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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Vignette One

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Arisia and some of the other Justice League members headed to the watchtower. They had had an interesting excursion to a human tourist hotspot that was called the Bahamas, though Arisia didn't know what to make of it yet. She had been all over the galaxy and to so many places that she needed some more time, on occasion, to get used to new places, just to see what it was that she thought about them.

She wanted that variety in her life and the world that she explored, however, even if wearing regular “human clothes" was still more than a little weird for her. Sure, she had the same body type as a woman but Arisia would never just be a woman, regardless of anything and the life that she led.

That was something that she had grown to be comfortable with, though it was still strange, even for her, to move between such different worlds all the time. At the watchtower, they regrouped, gathering to report back for duty. Of course, it was Zatanna who would teleport them, even if Arisia would have much rather flown herself and taken care of that side.

Arisia allowed her eyes to graze over the others, wondering, briefly, if they looked her over as she did for them. It was just so strange to see their bodies like that, as if they were all from another time and place, out of the norm and ordinary for what she was used to. Power Girl, for example, was still wearing her bright red (and exceptionally skimpy) bikini. Her breasts showed over the top of it – well, just the cleavage, so it was, technically, okay to wear, even if Arisia didn't exactly have the jurisdiction to talk about how others were dressed. Her backside was facing the wall as she turned, though Arisia had already snuck a look at her, even though her eyes should not have been roaming that easily. The cut of the bikini bottoms showed off Power Girl's muscular but firm arse very nicely, her legs just as nicely accentuated by being on show. With the cut of the bikini bottoms as high as it was, it showed off the bottom curve of her buttocks, though covered all that it really needed to.

It was skimpier and smaller than what she would have personally worn, which was probably a good way to put it. Power Girl, however, didn't seem to think that very much at all was on show, comfortable as she leaned back against the wall, casually chatting with Wonder Woman. Arisia wished, in a way, that she had that much confidence.

Arisia tried not to look as if she was observing her, though it was hard to not look at her, the smooth, powerful lines of her body. Of course, Power Girl had a muscular body, though still with a feminine edge to it. She had not understood that, with human beings, where a body was either masculine or feminine. Sure, a stronger jaw line could be had or a narrower waist, but those things did not inherently make a body masculine or feminine.

Power Girl was simply as she was, rippling with easy power, as if a breath would let it burst from her body and all, from that point on, would be forever uncontained. Maybe it was okay for her to be wearing a bikini that was so small on her that her bust was spilling over the top – but maybe she wouldn't have even known to pick up a larger size when that was hardly the sort of clothing that she would normally have worn.

Maybe they should all go shopping too… Yet that didn't seem like a good use of their time. Power Girl just moved so fluidly and easily that it was quite as if she was simply at home no matter what she was wearing at any given time. Arisia would have envied her, if not for the fact that they all had fairly incredible abilities that all came into play there.

Arisia slid her eyes away from Power Girl's short, blonde hair and how the nape of her neck was revealed to take in Zatanna instead. Zatanna looked to be wearing something altogether more fashionable and definitely a more modest one-piece bathing suit. Still, her chest was on show, covered completely but allowing the nice swell of her breasts to be framed pleasantly. It was a wonder at just how clothing could do something like that, despite Arisia not being as clued-up on how to wear clothes like that. Zatanna had lived on Earth for a good time, however, and clearly integrated with that world, the dark fabric of the one-piece bathing suit making the smooth lines of her body draw the eye down to her hips. It even showed off her legs nicely, though Zatanna had some softer elements to her body that the others did not all encompass.

And that fascinated Arisia. Where Zatanna's powers came from the otherworld, magic to the human eye, she didn't need to physically exert herself and her powers did not have the effect of making her body more muscular in any way. So, there was a little more softness around her thighs that a strange part of Arisia wanted to poke, just to see how it felt. She didn't think she'd ever see or feel that with her own thighs, or else it would mean that something drastic would have changed in her life, something that would have turned everything on its head.

The one-piece swimsuit came up over her moderate bust in a way that seemed to flatten them, though Arisia could still see the light outline of her nipples in the black material. It complemented Zatanna's dark hair nicely, though she had styled it “back" in some fashion when they had been out in the water. Arisia thought that some clips had been used, but she had had to put up with her blonde hair being slicked down to her scalp, not looking anywhere near as in control of herself as she was used to being.

Well, maybe no one else had been looking at her like she was looking at them. It was strange just how the swimsuit compressed Zatanna's chest lightly, something that was a prominent part of her when she was doing her shows. Arisia still did not understand just how Zatanna could use her powers for something so trivial but it most likely wasn't her place to judge.

She spared a moment, letting her eyes roam Zatanna's legs, running down from her thighs to her knees to her calves, the smooth white of her skin catching her eye.

The buzz of conversation moved on around her, waiting and gathering themselves, though they would have to change before teleporting back. Well, it most likely would not be the best thing for them to head back in their swimming attire and light clothes, to be fair, though no one would usually say anything if their outfits became damaged. The Justice League was pretty modest and respectable about that, even the guys. Though they could be a handful in themselves too…

Wonder Woman, on the other hand, was dressed simply in a white T-shirt and navy shorts. Her hair had been tied back from her face with a gold band that Arisia was sure was infused with the same properties as her lasso but, well, she thought that it would be rude to ask questions about that. It was something that she could only try to query and ask about, just a little. But she wasn't sure if it was rude, even between them as superheroes.

Wonder Woman's modest attire, however, still showed her muscle off nicely, her shoulders a little broader and rounder where muscle had developed, the T-shirt hanging nicely down as if it was trying to highlight the narrower line of her waist. Arisia could not help herself from being curious about her chest, how everything seemed a little softer there than usual, when she was in her regular outfit. Her chest did not seem supported at that moment, though maybe she just had a swim top that didn't have underwire in it (completely fair!) on under the white T-shirt. It might have been a bit embarrassing, after all, if the shirt soaked through…

Wonder Woman, naturally, was built with an hourglass figure, even when it was not highlighted by her usual outfit, and rocked back easily onto her heels as she spoke to Mera. It was strange to see her so at ease, though, Arisia appreciated that Wonder Woman could not be “switched on" all the time. It was just why they had gone off to take a break from everything, even if there was always something for them to do.

Wonder Woman too, most likely, had the best arse, even though it was covered by her shorts at that time. The loose fabric could not hide what she had on offer, even if Wonder Woman most certainly did not have to show off anything at all for anyone else's benefit.

Her legs though… They were on show. And they were nice, the muscle in Wonder Woman's calf rising as she popped up onto the soles of her feet, in sandals, though Arisia did not linger on her feet too much. She only wondered why Wonder Woman had gone for such a modest shirt that hung over her chest, even if it could not conceal completely her ample breasts. Sometimes, Arisia wondered how she was able to keep them under control, though Wonder Woman was not all that much bigger than Arisia.

Mera, oddly, looked quite similar to Power Girl, which she was surprised by, thinking that she might have gone for something bolder than a green bikini to contrast Power Girl's. Arisia had chosen to wear a cover-up most of the time when she had not been in the water but grown more comfortable over a couple of days with everyone else, enough that she could hang out sometimes with her skin on show, knowing that no one was looking at her badly at all. It would have been funnier to her, however, if Mera had been wearing a bikini that had more of a shimmery sheen to it and perhaps even decorated like fish-scales.

Well, she probably wouldn't suggest that to Mera. She didn't know if it was appropriate though, to be fair, they all did rather get on each other's nerves from time to time. When they were so close and working together so often, it was natural for them to rub one another up in the wrong way sometimes. So, she had learned not to be reserved, to be a little more outspoken, even if Arisia was, very often, one that liked to observe and watch.

She just liked to take everything in.

But Mera's strong, limber form, the body of a swimmer, did not need to hide at all, her skin pale from being underwater so much, the red flow of her hair cascading down her upper back. It didn't seem to have been affected by the salt at all and Arisia's eyes lingered on her shoulder blades, how they pushed a little closer together when Mera pinched her shoulder blades back, lifting her chest. When they were wearing less, it was fascinating too to see just how their muscles worked, even if Arisia knew that she should not have quite been ogling anyone that closely. Yet where was the harm if no one knew?

Carol Ferris, otherwise known as Star Sapphire, wore hot pants (very nice!) and a T-shirt with flowers on it that Arisia had heard was quite popular in the human world and on Earth itself. She didn't see the appeal but it was kind of bright and colourful and definitely suited to the place that they had been.

Batgirl had come along too, her hair free for once, though it had been her who had acted as their guide of sorts around the Bahamas, dressed in a black bikini top (which was very appropriate for her nature) and a flowery skirt on her bottom half. Presumably, there was also a pair of black bikini bottoms under the bright skirt, but Arisia wasn't going to either ask or look.

It would be revealed in time, her tentative curiosity something that was always lurking in the wings, around the back of her mind, flitting back and forth.

Arisia, on the other hand, had a modest but very cute summer dress on. She had worn the bikini when she'd dipped into the water, but the flowing fabric of the dress floated around her legs nicely and she felt like she could have gone out for the day alone in it too. Not because Arisia would have thought that anyone would give her any trouble at all, but she just wanted to feel confident in herself too and settled in her own body. That was more important to her, considering her work and what she had to do for the worlds that she protected, though others may not have ever thought that Arisia wanted such things.

Together, all seven members of the Justice League headed into the watchtower and down to a lower level to the woman's locker rooms. They were fresh and clean, practically sparkling, and Arisia gave a small smile. That was really nice to see, though she never would have ever wanted to brave the trauma of the men's locker room. That was definitely a place that none of them would ever go…

“Come on, ladies," Wonder Woman said, a smile on her face but a lightly brisk edge re-entering her voice. “We've got to get back. But…we should all do this again sometime!"

“You'll just want to keep going back to the Bahamas," Batgirl teased her, reaching behind her to untie her bikini, many of them comfortable with levels of nudity amongst the team. “But it's a gorgeous place. I'll show you other places to go, if you like, we can go anywhere."

Arisia hesitated briefly, knowing that she had to change too, though she turned to face the lockers, a little shyer than the rest. She didn't know why she felt as if she had to hide things like that, but she just didn't quite feel right if everyone was ogling her chest. Even if no one was looking at her.

Oh, you're making things up now…

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And Arisia knew it was true also. No one was looking at her, even as the bubbling, light conversation rolled over her. Everyone seemed to sense that she wanted to be quieter, but, well…she didn't mind that either. She knew that they would be there to chat with her if she wanted them to be and there would be plenty of chances for that.

So… She could be quiet and observe, as Arisia tried her best to change modestly, taking care of her underwear first, for she could change that out under her dress. The others did not quite have that luxury, except for Batgirl, who didn't seem to have too many qualms about her body, though there was a hint of a blush in her cheeks.

That was interesting. Arisia had been watching her fellow superheroes, though Batgirl was the only one out of the group of them who did not have powers like that, for some time, she had not seen anyone really openly embarrassed like that. The blush on her cheeks was obvious, though she shrugged out of her clothes swiftly, as if she was trying to be as efficient as possible with all the other superheroes in the room with her.

The members of the Justice League chatted about what they had done over the weekend, too distracted and comfortable there to notice her watching. Her eyes roamed over Wonder Woman as she slid down her shorts, revealing the round of her buttocks, all the firm muscle that gave shape to her glutes. But she could see even more as Wonder Woman neatly and efficiently swapped out her underwear for a fresh pair, though they had all showered at the resort where they had been only a short time ago.

Wonder Woman did not have any pubic hair. That was not something that Arisia should have been so quick to notice, though she still quite found herself fascinated by it as another pair of black panties, a functional fit and cut so that it would not cause her any issues underneath her outfit, slid back up her legs to cover her pussy. Of course, Wonder Woman was not going to leave herself bare for too long, wanting modesty and, as always, efficient in everything.

Wonder Woman's breasts were only exposed for a moment, but that was partly because Arisia could not be staring at her for too long, as that would have rendered her at risk of being caught staring. She was just too curious, taking in Wonder Woman's softly pink nipples for a moment, even as her red top slipped up and Wonder Woman turned, angling her body slightly away from Arisia. And so it was that her view of Wonder Woman was obscured at a moment when she could have absorbed a little more.

That was a shame.

She dressed fluidly in her red, fitted top that left her arms bare, flexible and moving with her body even though it was a little more rigid than Arisia had previously thought. The upper edge, dipping over her breasts, was edged in gold, and the black leggings that slid up her calves and then her thighs, hiding the firm muscle from Arisia's curious view.

Her gaze slid over to Zatanna, who had already gotten her one-piece off and was standing there, bare from head to toe. She wasn't seeming to be trying to remain naked for too long, putting on her underwear first, sliding a scandalously tight pair of panties – well, it was practically a thong, over her crotch. There was only a tiny bit of pubic hair there, short and neatly trimmed, though Arisia made sure that she busied herself too with changing her own clothes, so that she didn't look as if she was openly staring at everyone.

She was just curious, looking back at Zatanna as the fishnet stockings were slid up her legs, up and up and up and up. Zatanna left her breasts bare for the moment, the nipples a little darker than Arisia would have expected, while she got her boots on too, the shiny leather sliding up her legs, polished and well-conditioned. They came up all the way over her calves and knees, to her thighs, and Arisia remembered the feel of similar boots quite well on her own legs.

She settled her bodysuit into place over the top, the black and white bodice coming around her like a corset, cupping her breasts into a nice cleavage, though Zatanna always wore a jacket over the top in the darkest of blacks. Her black hair swung sharply over the back of the jacket and Arisia moved on, watching as Batgirl changed out of her bikini and her skirt.

That was a harder one for Batgirl to get on, though she moved quickly to cover her backside and her breasts with her underwear, even fumbling with the back of her bra while she tried to get it into place too quickly. The full-body suit was hard to get used to, or at least that was how Arisia saw it. She appreciated the view very much, taking in Batgirl's strong, lean body, a light curve to her waist and hips, and a shadow over her crotch. It looked like she had short pubic hair down there, yet it was hard, in that instance, for Arisia to get a good look at her. Oh, well.

The full-body suit had to be put on from the feet, with the boots built into it, sliding up the thighs, skin-tight and hugging her slimmer calves and thighs. Arisia tried to give her a little more privacy to get covered up and over the hips, though Batgirl seemed a bit more comfortable as she slid her arms into it and then did a little trick to get it zipped up at the back, the black and yellow suiting her well.

Mera had gotten out of her green bikini top and was sliding a pair of underwear that fitted nicely over her buttocks, though Arisia was surprised to see a curl of thicker, ginger pubic hair there. She had seen so many who had been nicely trimmed or even bare that it was starting to become unusual to see someone who didn't do anything about it, though it was, very much, a personal choice. She kept hers trimmed, purely out of comfort. She'd always wondered, when it was thicker when she was younger and had not seen the point in tidying it up in a more human fashion, if it had shown through her tighter outfits. But that was not something that Arisia should have been focusing on in hindsight, no.

Mera, however, had a body to be appreciated, her hips a little narrower, which probably made her even more streamlined in the water. Her outfit went on in two parts though was otherwise quite similar to Batgirl's in the sense that it covered her entire body from wrist to neck and from ankle upwards, the fine green and blue like the scales of a fish. That was more like what Arisia had expected her to be wearing for going in the water, as her bikini, but she hid her private little smirk as Mera took care of the bottom half of her body and them sorted the top half.

She was so lean and so powerful, even if her breasts did not end up making her look all that fluid or aerodynamic when it came to swimming. That had to be what her outfit was for, smoothing out the lines of her chest, though it was a shame to see them covered up. At least, that was Arisia's opinion on that matter.

There was no bra in Mera's case, but she had to fasten it at the front, the clasp seemingly hidden under the gold detailing. That was clever, a detail that Arisia filed away mentally for later and her own outfit, which could be a little trick to do up too from time to time. With Mera's breasts covered, there was sadly no cleavage for Arisia's eyes to wander over, though it made sense with how often Mera had to be in the water. It was her affinity and her home, after all.

Carol Ferris remained in her human form while she stripped out of her clothes and efficiently changed. She studiously looked as if she was doing her very best not to look at or pay attention to anyone else in the locker rooms. Was she just as nervous as Arisia felt sometimes? It was so hard to work things like that out when other things were going on, when her eyes wanted to wander, to slide away, from one person to the other.

Carol Ferris had a nice figure, though it was no wonder why her suit had to stretch over her ample bosom, sliding it up over her calves and thighs and barely even letting Arisia get a look in down there. The problem was that Arisia wanted to keep looking while not getting caught, for she didn't know what anyone would have said if they caught her stares, the long, strange looks that she was giving others. Carol Ferris was modest and smooth in dressing herself, the suit cupping her backside nicely, though it at least allowed Arisia the opportunity to admire the shape of it.

It would be nice for her to have an arse like that, though Arisia knew that her own body was not bad either. It was just that she had not had others to really compare herself to in that way before. She swallowed lightly, watching the light jiggle of Carol's backside as she shifted her weight, getting her outfit up higher and higher, unrolling it as smoothly as she could over the curve of her hips and up to her slightly narrower waist. Her breasts would need to be contained but Arisia smiled faintly to herself as the shadows cast over them for the moment, giving them a softer, easier shape, as if the edges had become blurred. Of course, that was merely a trick of the light, or the lack of it.

She'd never understood why she was as interested in them as she was, though checking on Carol Ferris was interesting as she slipped on her purple suit. It almost had a bit of a sheen to it like latex but it was not such, but a fabric of some kind. Not something that could be made entirely by human hands as, over the years, it had been infused with properties that kept it strong and flexible, moulding to the shape of her body while being as immune to tears as Carol Ferris, or Star Sapphire, could make it.

Hm…

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No, Arisia had gotten something wrong there. Batgirl might have been the only one without superpowers but Star Sapphire had her powers in the ring, of course. As soon as that slid back onto her finger, she stood a little straighter and taller, a tiny smile on her face. Maybe she felt bare without it, the ring as much clothes to her as what she was actually putting on her body.

She watched as Star Sapphire let the outfit hang down around her hips for a moment while she adjusted it, sliding back down from her waist where it had been tugged up to, the soft weight of her breasts pulling down into a lightly teardrop-shape, for gravity would affect them all in the end. Without anything to support them, the slightly darker nipples were left on show as she exhaled gently, the rise and fall of her chest more than enough to catch Arisia's eye. She must not have realised, of course, that she had eyes on her in that moment, for she stepped back slightly from the lockers as if she was exposing her body deliberately. It let Arisia get a good look at her, for which she was appreciative, the light hitting the right side of her body while the left was left shaded.

She had a narrower figure than some of the others, like Wonder Woman, her shoulders not quite as broad, though there was no single one of the Justice League who Arisia would have said looked any “better" than the others in any way, no… It was just her observations of their bodies, taking in all that they were, from the smooth lines of muscle in their bodies to how nicely they filled out their outfits too.

She grunted, trying to sort out her own outfit, needing to bare her breasts for that but it didn't matter too much as she settled it more comfortable into position on her body. Carol didn't quite seem to have as much of an issue sliding into her suit, though wherever it fastened at the back slid up slowly, without the use of her hands. That had to be some kind of use of her powers, though Arisia wasn't quite sure how she would do something with that much finesse herself.

Maybe she would try, sometime. Who knew?

Still, the bra sliding into place over Star Sapphire's breasts was nestled there by practised hands, more of a sports bra as it pulled her chest up and neatly in, though still left them with a nice shape. Arisia's eyes dropped back down, Star Sapphire's back to her, to her butt, admiring just how the firm, functional muscle rounded out through the back of her outfit. It was impressive just how much work Carol put into her body, though the fabric moved and flexed and pulled over her as if it was just a part of her, a second skin.

The smooth fabric flowed over her, showing a nicely defined butt, her hips a little narrower than her shoulders were, though not enough that Carol could have been said to be broad-shouldered, not really. Arisia studied her curiously, comparing her to the others. The strong, full figures of Wonder Woman and Power Girl stood out quite well, even as they dressed in their usual costumes, but Batgirl had a quiet, subtle presence about her too, slim and settled, waiting on everyone else to be ready. Zatanna flickered her fingers and muttered a spell as her gloves flew on, sliding over her hands: a new addition to her wardrobe.

Each one of them showed off their bodies and performed their roles in different ways. But it was not and never had been for Arisia to judge. The power in them was most certainly not to be disputed, everyone with various levels of muscling all over their bodies, more than able to stand up to the men and far worse terrors of the universe.

Arisia smiled. It was good to see them like that, everyone taking something for their own, their own kind of style – even when it came down to something as small as tending to the hair between their legs. It was not to be set aside when they were who they were, superheroes and people who were very much just trying to do good in both the human world and the wider reaches of the universe.

Power Girl took her time changing and Arisia eyed her up cautiously, trying to make sure that she wasn't going to get caught after eyeballing everyone else. It was just so difficult not to look and she hadn't gotten caught so far.

One thing about Power Girl that caught her eye especially was her large bust. The soft flesh of her breasts somehow managed to capture an inviting quality to it, though Arisia didn't know how that was possible for a body. She had most certainly never looked at her own breasts in that way. And she didn't know why she was looking at Power Girl – and the others – like that, appraising different parts of them. Although Arisia could not find anything about any of them that would have raised any negative thoughts about their bodies, at least her mind.

It wasn't her place to tell and, besides, the notions simply did not exist.

Power Girl, however, faced the wall as she changed – with the built-in lockers before her. It was a modest way to change her clothes, though she covered up her lower half a lot more than her bust, Arisia noticed. She probably thought that no one was watching her and, well, no one else was watching her, a peal of laughter bouncing off the walls as someone laughed.

Arisia tugged at her own clothes, sneaking a glance back at Power Girl as she drew a white bra up around her chest, fastening it at the back. Before she put her arms through, she paused, settling it across under her breasts more comfortably, though that allowed Arisia to sneak even more of a look. Her pink nipples seemed pert and pretty in the cool air of the changing room, but no one was bothered at all by the temperature in there, even if Arisia had caught herself shivering once or twice.

She shifted her weight, watching as Power Girl drew the bra up – but the straps didn't need to go up, apparently. That was new and gave her an extra look at Power Girl's chest as the straps detached. Maybe Arisia should get one of those for herself too? It looked like it was going to fit nicely under her costume, when she donned that too.

Power Girl changed what was on her bottom half more quickly, unwrapping a towel from her waist so that she could reach her bikini bottoms. She must have not considered the fact that someone could have been watching as her strong buttocks were exposed, a light curl of blonde hair at her crotch. It was different to see her like that, even if Arisia knew, of course, by then, that most of the ladies there had some kind of pubic hair. Power Girl only seemed to have a light sprinkling of it, however.

She was forced to look away when Power Girl glanced around, though everyone seemed almost ready to go anyway, all just finishing up, bit by bit.

With them all changed and ready to return to their normal lives, Arisia was almost a little bit sad. Her bodysuit, cutting off at the tops of her thighs, allowed her freedom of movement and, once more, made her feel like herself, though she had not minded the dress either. She had almost not thought all that much about what she was changing into and took just a moment to make sure that everything was in the position that it should be, the tightly-fitted fabric moulding nicely to her body with no wrinkles or uncomfortable edges.

“Are we ready?"

Power Girl smiled, addressing everyone. She really had come into her own, fully-dressed in her white bodysuit, which was edged with gold, a red cape flowing from her shoulders. Arisia gave a tiny murmur of appreciation at the blue boots and gloves that Power Girl was wearing, everything with a light shine to it, as if the light could not help but glance appealing off them.

“Yes, everyone looks to be," Arisia said, stretching out her arms briefly. “Back to normal then."

Some of them grumbled, but at least they knew that they would get time to relax again in the future, for they had found out that they rather liked having that time to themselves. They needed it, to rest and recover, and Arisia would take a little pleasure in being able to appreciate their bodies too.

Maybe they appreciated hers too. There was nothing sexual in it.

With the Justice League, there was always more, after all, to be discovered…

Vignette Two

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Lady Blaze's perspective…

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Lady Blaze groaned, stepping back down into Hell with a roll of her shoulders.

“Back to the same hole then…"

It was home, yes, but it was different from causing mischief on Earth, walking slowly and steadily between the lava pools. The bubbling, churning lava was a feature of her corner of Hell, which was a realm all on its own, the ground black and cracked under her feet as she crossed the solidified lava bridge, now a rock formation – or close enough.

Lady Blaze revelled in it, however, the intense heat clawing at her skin. There was darkness above her, endless, ultimate, though there was no one there who could or would disturb her. The lava rivers were almost tempting enough for her to dip her hand into it and scoop it up, but she held back, instead allowing the heat to shiver through the air and lick at her skin, a smile tugging on her lips.

“Yes… This is better."

It was hers and she took her time walking by a lava river, the footpath under her feet made from grey, cracked stone. Probably something that Lady Blaze had collected years ago, from some misdemeanour, though who was really going to stop her? She wasn't going to have anything bad happen, of course, no…

Anything bad that happened, ultimately, was going to be from her hand. Or maybe she was a little above herself and her station, overconfident and proud of her realm.

A pair of giant, metal doors blocked the entrance to her base, which was built into a volcano, the door on the side, the dark rock towering over her, though the comforting shadow of it felt like a pair of arms going around her. Not that Lady Blaze would ever have been seen taking softness from such things, of course not…

“Mmm…"

She let out a hum of approval as, once more, she entered her home, the cave lit up with lighting strips on the inside, though they were red and purple, casting a softer light through her abode. Yet her red skin would always blend into it, her horns curved lightly, but the ceiling was still more than high enough int here that Lady Blaze did not have to worry in the slightest about accidentally rapping them on the roof.

“It's good to be back."

She said the words with relish, her yellow eyes glowing faintly as she headed straight towards her bathing chamber. No, no, no – it was not something as common as a bathroom. She needed something grander than that. And, as Lady Blaze, she could take absolutely anything that she wanted for her own, always ensuring that her needs were met.

And what she needed was to wash off the smell of humans and the earthly scents from her. it always seemed to cling and Lady Blaze wrinkled her nose lightly in disgust. Of course, there would be smells up there, but she never quite understood why anyone would be able to deal with that.

Better to deal with the charred scents of fire and brimstone and churning, bitter lava back where she lived, back where she did truly belong. But there was no reason at all why Lady Blaze couldn't visit and take her leave of other places in the world and galaxy too, of course…

“Urf…"

She grunted, rolling her shoulders back. Her armour was still on, though it was designed to fit when she was in her real form and in her human disguise too, even if there could be a glamour on it too.

It did not cover very much of her body, to be fair, more of a seductive get-up that encompassed a flowing, supple armour that stretched down from over her shoulders, over her breasts, and down to the point of her crotch. Her breasts, of course, and her buttocks were covered, along with the span between her legs, yet she was still allowed the maximum amount of flexibility that she had wanted when originally designing the armour. Two red gems, one with the dark slit of a pupil, covered her crotch as the fabric hung down, moving fluidly and supply with her body.

But Lady Blaze didn't need to do anything more about that, sliding out of it as the fabric armour pooled on the ground, leaving her naked from head to toe. Her long, black hair had a lot of volume to it, though her private bath was set into the ground in the bathing chambers, heated by the natural geothermal heat from the volcano. And that meant that it was always kept at exactly the right temperature for her, just the way that she liked it.

“Mmmm…"

The large pool of water rippled as she sank into it, steam rising from the surface where it was forced to evaporate in the extreme heat. She panted softly, adjusting to the temperature, leaning her head back against the edge. Even inside the bath, there was a seating ledge that she could slide onto, her nudity not something that Lady Blaze was at all bothered by.

How could she not take that power and sense of pride in herself exactly in hand, just the way that it needed to be, after all?

Yet the soothing heat could not do everything for her as her stomach tightened every subtly, right down at the base of her digestive system. Lady Blaze grumbled faintly, shifting her weight back and forth, hoping that the feeling would go away. She was by no means done with her bath yet, of course, and she didn't want to get out either, not when she was enjoying herself.

It was a relief to be on her own in there too, even though her nature was nothing of a façade, not at all, that she put on. She ruled over all of Hell, regardless of what anyone said, and she was not going to set anything at all aside for the cause of making anyone else feel better at all.

She, however, had to relieve the needs of her body as she rose from the bath, water streaming from her shapely form. The neat tuck of her waist would have begged the eye, if anyone had been there to see, and she stepped out onto the warm, natural stone, letting the heat from that too wash into her as she dried.

“Hm…"

She smirked faintly. Oh, that was a very devious idea indeed! And something that stopped her from using the toilet down there too, even though it was a perfectly acceptable facility to use.

She'd rather torture and she'd rather debase, using her powers against those that followed her. That had always been the way.

Heading from the bathing chamber to the kitchen that was another door down, connected to her bedroom as it was a private one just for her, she rummaged around in one of the cupboards.

“Oh, where has that cretin put it?" She practically seethed, digging to the back of the cupboard while the churning need in the pit of her belly grew and grew. “Never again… Aha!"

It did not usually live there but it would more than do for what Lady Blaze had in mind. Smirking triumphantly at the large, silver dining platter, which was more often than not used to serve large dinners on, she laid it out on the ground with a sharper, more metallic clang.

It would be a shame, indeed, to waste a perfectly good platter, though they were all the same for her, but they could easily be made again using magic, she thought to herself. And the bowel movement, once made, could then be easily removed.

It did not cross her mind again that there were easier ways to get rid of her excrement, but what did she care about that? It was not for her to deal with, much less for her to at all worry about.

She squatted, imagining already just how Jamrag would squirm – ooh! She should have come up with something even better to torment him with, though Jamrag should have been used to her wickedness after serving her for so many years.

“This will be a surprise for that one!"

She grinned, still naked, pushing out a thick log of waste without any preamble. It was what her body needed to do, after all, relieving itself with a grunt and a groan, not ashamed in the slightest about what she was doing. It may have been a natural function of her body but it was still very much something that Lady Blaze delighted in, even if it was to torment and make the life of someone else more difficult than it should have been.

Or could have been. She didn't care enough to consider the semantics of it all.

The bathroom break was long overdue as her guts shifted with an edge of discomfort, bearing down to work on that first, thick twenty-three-inch log. It was going to be a big one, which was normal for her, though the size would only truly be seen when she had, of course, excreted everything that was inside her to begin with. Her bowels would be completely empty by the time that Lady Blaze was done.

“Unff…"

She grunted lowly, rocking her hips back slightly for a better angle at which to relieve herself, pushing down as the size of the bowel movement made her want to get it out even more urgently. The long, crackled rope of waste seemed to keep coming and coming, winding out of her as it dropped down onto the silver platter. A little metal and some magic… Yes, both of which were exceptionally easy to find down in the depths of Hell. She would have a new platter made – a better one. That one should not have ever been knocking around in her private kitchen anyway.

So, that would teach Jamrag too just how she wanted her possessions looked after. And he hadn't been doing a very good job of it, clearly!

Lady Blaze pressed down and down and down, squeezing her muscles around that bowel movement with an intent that could only be matched up to by one so desperately needing to go to the bathroom. She didn't know how the needs of her body, when her needs were something that she always ensured were attended to, could be set aside for so long, but that was not something that she had to worry about as, finally, she cut off that long, thick log of poop and it dropped with a dull thump all the way to the platter.

She took a moment, glancing down at that one. Lady Blaze's head tipped slightly to the side and she smirked. It was a good size, something to be proud of, though it was the one that she was going to humiliate with her poop that she was going to take the most pleasure from.

“Well, well… Seems that I had a lot in me!"

She laughed lightly, though it was a cackling laugh, one with a hard edge to it even if the volume was not such. She didn't have to rouse Jamrag just yet, after all…

She worked on the next, pushing down on the second log of waste that was surely seeking to get its way out of her. She took her time, even though she wanted to relieve the needs of her body too, the urgency of her body contrasting with the languidness of her mind. It strained against her as she pushed it out, feeling just how firm it was even as she excreted. There was no need to rush, of course not. That was better, like that, yes.

She grunted very faintly, though there was no real reason at all for Lady Blaze to be quiet, not as inch after inch of the poop slid from her, easily teasing from her backside. Her ring flexed around it as the muscular contractions naturally worked to push it out. That one was slightly softer than the first, an easier slide out of her sphincter, though the mechanics of going to the bathroom were not all that complicated, no. She could have ignored it completely and just gone, but there were so many things to relish when she was the ruler of Hell.

Lady Blaze had learned that long ago, as the second bowel movement, a good fifteen inches long, dropped with a dull clang to the tray. The tray juddered from the impact, even though her hips were already lowered down as far as she felt that she could get them to go, close enough to the tray. And it was not as if it really mattered if she disturbed anyone, for it was for them to make sure that she was satisfied and pleased.

Glancing down, she observed that poop, the softer one having landed with a light splat, the texture of it easily “giving" to that light amount of pressure. However, she didn't take pleasure in the sight of her own bowel movement, only pleased that it was healthy, even if a bit of a lighter colour, a little changeable in its shade, than she would have liked. It was good enough and, for her, that was something that came up quite often anyway.

Things wouldn't change. Just the number of ways in which she could torture and torment Jamrag, after all…

She grunted, bearing down on the third poop. It was harder to get out, quite a tough consistency, but that was just down to diet and that was not something that she had to concern herself with, no, not all that much. It would all come out of her one way or the other, feeling how it slid from her, her muscles clenching and relaxing, the contractions helping to push it from her. Pushing it from her, she relaxed through the motion, thinking only of the end result. It would not have been so bad if it was not thicker still, making her work even harder.

Lady Blaze pressed down as much as she could, the tension in her stomach releasing as she dropped the third bowel movement to the tray, as neatly as she could have liked. It clanged down as the tray shifted a little under the weight of three large bowel movements already, more on one side than the other. The third log of poop was long and straight, with only a slight curve to the end that had left her backside last, the length a darker brown and crackled darkly along the length. What was notable about it, however, was that it was a thicker one with a good girth to it and long at twenty inches long.

Another had to follow, on the fourth, and she continued with purpose, pushing out another log of waste that slid out easily, softer but not as soft as one of the earlier ones. Lady Blaze exhaled with a puff of air, relaxing into it, the ease that her body felt seeping through her. She just hadn't realised how much she needed to go!

“There it comes…"

It was a strange sort of satisfaction that came with going to the bathroom, though it was not as if that was so much of a bad thing, no, not at all. She exhaled, pushing out a fifth bowel movement that was neither hard nor soft but somewhere in-between – or maybe her mind was just elsewhere while she focused on the act of going to the bathroom. It was something that, even then, she had to concentrate on at least a little, wriggling her bare toes faintly into the cool stone of the kitchen floor.

“Hmm…"

She hummed, relaxing a bit more as another bowel movement plopped down, that one with a softer sound to it landing as it simply came down over the top of the bowel movements that were already in place on the tray, taking up a lot of it. That one was nineteen inches long and curled lightly along its length with something of a break in the middle, as if she had clenched down in the middle of going to the bathroom. With a soft, barely audible, even to her, grunt, she plopped out several soft, small rounds of poop, though her bowels felt as if they were very nearly empty already.

The final one took as long to squeeze out of her backside as the first, long and almost coiling, though Lady Blaze was not particularly concerned about how it came down. She wasn't going for accuracy and any neatness there that came into play was by way of a happy accident only and no more than that.

The firm log of waste squeezed out, bit by bit, inch by inch, and she raised her eyebrows as she bore down, surprised at its size. It was not overly thick but it was more than long enough to rival the size of the first. Finally, it dropped with a muffled thud onto the top of the other five logs of poop, maxing out at twenty-two inches – if she was being generous with it. Maybe it was more like twenty-one inches, but, well…who was there to whip out a ruler and tell her that she was wrong? She was the ruler of Hell, after all, and what she said was always what went down there.

Satisfied, she sat up from her crouch a little, no longer trying to hover so close to the tray, though she did not move all that far away from it.

“That's all well."

Satisfied, she looked down at her bowel movements, checking them for health and finding, with satisfaction, that everything was perfectly healthy, just as she wanted it to be. The harder of the bowel movements were crackled faintly along the length where they had broken faintly when being pushed out, though every one was intact. One of the softer, small rounds of poop had rolled off to the side of the serving platter, resting on the edge as if it was teetering and about to drop off. Yet that was none of her concern, nothing for Lady Blaze to worry about. There was a variance in colour between the six bowel movements and that exceptionally large final one was a little outside the norm, though it was not as if she was going to change her ways or lifestyle in any way. She wouldn't change her diet even unless she had a damn good reason to.

And there was nothing there that was a reason, Lady Blaze standing slowly, working out the stiffness in her legs for having been crouched down for so long. Everything was healthy and her lips pressed together softly, content with all that she had seen.

She smiled to herself, marvelling at the impressive size of some of her bowel movements. Those would do nicely. But she would have done more if she'd had the chance, for there was an illicit dirtiness about pooping that suited her nature nicely. Of course, she would not have done it without reason, not out in the open like that, but the size and shape of her bowel movements had her lips twitching in more of a smirk than a smile.

Letting her eyes range once more over the different sizes and shapes, though nothing there could have at all been considered small, she pursed her lips faintly. They would more than do, though she was merely pleased with the size of them for the embarrassment it would cause someone else.

Snapping her fingers, she raised her voice, a commanding tone lancing through the air like a jolt of power.

“Jamrag! I have a task for you!"

*

Jamrag's perspective

_ _

Jamrag woke too quickly, grunting, shifting his weight in his narrow cot, which served as a bed. It was small for a demon but it would do, though it was not as if Jamrag was all that tall, only being about five feet tall. And that was if he was being exceptionally generous to himself in terms of height.

“She must have returned…"

He would have grumbled if he was not bound to serve her. It was not as if he had gotten any rest while Lady Blaze had been away anyway, sighing and sitting up on his small cot, stretching his arms out over his head once again as he yawned.

He thought that he had better prepare for her, slipping out of his ragged, holey pyjamas and grabbing his armour, which was set at the side of the small bedroom on a chair. He had not been allowed anything else to take care of his armour and didn't expect it either. It was old and a muddy sort of grey in places, severely dented: all in all, it was in serious need of both a paint job on the emblem and a polish on the rest, to keep all parts moving smoothly against one another. But it would have to do.

He was just about preparing to begin his morning activities, wanting to get a head start before Lady Blaze called on him, but the demon was not to have even that.

“Agh!"

Jamrag squirmed and flinched back, though not even his armour was enough to protect him from the surge of power around him, flickering in blue and red, teleportation essence swirling around him as he was teleported several floors up. His stomach churned sickeningly, floating for a moment – and then he was staggering on solid ground again, out of the dungeons and up to the private quarters of Lady Blaze, up on the top floor.

He squealed, shaking, trying to keep his stomach from lurching too badly, but that was not the greatest shock of all. For Lady Blaze was right there before him, standing tall and proud… And she was completely naked!

“Lady Blaze!"

He blushed heavily, head darkening his green skin as it clawed its way up his cheeks from his neck, even to the insides of his ears. Why was she naked – oh, good Heaven! He shouldn't have seen that, no, not as a denizen of Hell! No, no, no, that was bad, that was very bad!

She towered over him, seemingly unbothered by her nakedness, though he gulped and was forced to look up at her. Her power was such that he had to do as she bid, her influence commanding him without even words, for he had been serving her for… Well, Jamrag couldn't recall quite. Too long, perhaps.

She was too tall at seven feet… And Lady Blaze loomed. He could not stop his humiliated gaze from sweeping down her slowly, from the sharp line of her jaw and the feminine smirk on her lips. Of course, she was beautiful: in a dark, Hellish kind of way, the best way. Something stirred in him and he waited on her bidding, doing exactly what she wanted him to do as he looked down her body from the bareness of her clavicle to the rise of her breasts, so heavy and so full. The nipples were even erect and perky, though he didn't linger on them.

She did not force him to either, not as the narrowness of her waist drew his eye, the lines of her oblique muscles dragging his eye down lower and lower. He tried to pause at her hips but she had to see her pussy too, a light curl of dark hair at her pussy, though Jamrag was willing to bet that her powers kept it at exactly the length that she wanted it.

Lady Blaze… He thought that she should have been embarrassed to have him looking her over like that and yet…she was not. She took it as a power play over him and Jamrag grunted, eyes dropping again, taking in her thicker thighs, though it was all muscle in there, grateful only that her backside was facing away from him. He was sure that he would not have survived the humiliation of that!

Finally, she frowned, leaning in as if he had deviated from her instruction, even though Jamrag knew that he had done everything that she had wanted. Of course, one of Lady Blaze's favourite past-times, when she was there, was tormenting him, so Jamrag would have been lying if he had said that he had not been expecting it.

“I have a task for you," she said, her voice lofty, as if she was already annoyed at him. “Are you listening? Pay attention, underling! I have a task – a task! – for you!"

He grunted, looking up to meet her eyes again, paying attention. It was so easy to get distracted under her spell and influence.

“Yes!" He bowed hastily. “Yes, Mistress! What task do you have for me? I will take care of it immediately!"

Lady Blaze smiled above him. Oh, he didn't like the look of that smile one little bit…

“Dispose of that," she said, pointing vaguely at the platter on the ground, something that he had not yet noticed and now struggled not to step away from. “That is all. Then you may return to your regular duties."

Jamrag gulped hard. Ugh… Did she really have to do that? But she was Lady Blaze and, therefore, it was his job to serve her and her alone. Even if it meant disposing of her waste, when it was all presented to him in a towering, teetering pile.

“Yes, Mistress, of course. It will be done."

He bowed lower than ever, scraping his forehead on the floor and dropping to his knees. When he dared look up again, Lady Blaze was already walking away, presumably to her bedchamber, which adjoined that particular little kitchen.

When she was gone, Jamrag scowled, sneering crudely and scrunching his face up in an exaggerated expression, shaking his head.

“Yes, Mistress, of course, Mistress," he sneered, his voice taking on a higher-pitched mocking tone. “Ugh… Of course, it's this again!"

The platter had a large pile of excrement on it. Why, it was positively towering! Anger swirled hotly within him, though that was not all that unusual for a demon to face, even one like him. And why, oh, why had she done that to him? Why did she take such pleasure from tormenting him like that? And it was disgusting!

Jamrag approached the platter cautiously, as if there was something else there wrong with it. Oh, that would be just like her. And he wasn't in the mood for any of her tricks, even if she said that it amused her.

He was treated badly there, there was no other way for Jamrag to put it, no. Disposing of a huge, still practically steaming, pile of poop was just something that he had to deal with. But who was going to say anything back to Lady Blaze's face directly? He was forced to reduce himself to angry mutterings under his breath, scorning his lot in life. Or Hell, as it was.

Carefully, he picked it up, curling his fingers around the edges of the platter, trying not to touch a single log of poop with all his might. The weight of it was hard to deal with, weighted more to one side than the other, the logs of waste shifting slightly and making his heart leap. Was he going to drop any off? Damn it to hell and back again – he really hoped not!

“Oof…"

It was heavy, heavier than it had any right to be, and the demon shuffled awkwardly over to the back of the kitchen where there was a special door for him. It was a “minion-sized" door, as Lady Blaze liked to call it, but it connected to back passageways and routes through which he could move to best serve her. Especially when she didn't want to see him around.

He kicked it open with his foot, swearing, though that door led to a narrow staircase, leading down, and a door to the outside. That one was harder to get open in the dark, blinking furiously as if that was going to make it any easier for him to get it open down at the bottom of the steps with his elbow, but the waste had to go and it had to go out.

“Can't believe this… One of these days… If I leave…"

Jamrag did not bother completing any of his sentences, because the demon could grumble as much as he liked and nothing was going to change. The footpath outside was well-worn by the elements of Hell, leading down around the side of the volcano, the ground hot and steaming under his armour-clad feet.

He grunted, talking carefully, his grip slipping on the platter, his hands sweating. Damn it… Damn it all to Heaven and back again!

He couldn't not look at the pile of waste that was practically up there in front of his nose. It was gross… The logs were huge! One of them was even thicker than the others, at least… Heaven… Maybe it was four-inches wide?

He screwed up his face. Who excreted anything like that? It was insane! But, still, he was not going to ever say that to Lady Blaze's face… Never. But why was it two feet long too? He tilted his head a little, morbid curiosity bidding him to look at it more closely. Was it really two feet long? It was on the bottom so it was difficult for him to see.

Still… The fact that it was disgusting was not to be disputed, grunting and pressing his lips together once more. It was impressive, however, to think that that came from her. She must have needed a lot of sustenance to fuel her power lately, which made sense.

She could have, of course, used the toilet in the bathroom in her chambers but he knew that she was getting him to dispose of her waste in person to make him annoyed. It was a small torment, really, in comparison to making him take in her naked body, but that still did not mean that he wanted to do it. She wanted to see too if he would disobey her, the pile teetering a little, though he held it fast. He had to, grinding his teeth together, one poop with more crackling to the firm, textured surface sliding a centimetre. It was only a little but it was enough to get Jamrag sweating all over again.

Down and down and down he went, right to the base of the volcano. Although he was glad that he was very nearly to the place that he needed to go, where he had taken to disposing of her bowel movements when she made him do so, his mind was still elsewhere. It wasn't fair, of course, it wasn't, that Lady Blaze pushed him like that…

Anger boiled and swirled like the pools of lava in the pit of his stomach, making his belly flip over and over. Ugh, she was disgusting! Powerful…and infuriating. Why should he be the one to deal with her excretions when there was a perfectly serviceable toilet up there for her to use? He didn't understand it, didn't understand it at all. He didn't react all that much to her taunting him either, so it couldn't be his reaction that prompted her to taunt him so much.

Being a minion could be exceptionally frustrating.

“Right…"

He muttered to himself, at the base of the volcano with a lava lake before him. The lake of lava extended around most of the volcano base like a moat, though they could have extended it if they wanted to. Maybe one day Lady Blaze would ask him to arrange it, though she would, more likely, just use her powers to smash through the rock and create anything that she liked for herself.

“Off!"

He grunted, hauling and heaving the entire platter and hurling the whole thing into the lava lake. It sailed through the air, the poops separating from the platter, weightless for a moment, before crashing down into the lake with a wet bubble and plop, lava bubbles swelling up in the wake of it. He dusted off his hands, checking back just once to make sure that the platter and the waste was completely gone. He wouldn't have wanted to have to come back later and have to deal with it again, or with any mishaps.

“Damn thing… Useless… Got to get another…platter…"

He grumbled to himself as he turned on his heel, complaining to himself. The climb back up the footpath and then the steps would be long and he was tempted to dawdle, even if he still very much had duties that needed attending too. That was a bind, as it always was, though he would have to do it. Or else… Well, Jamrag didn't want to think of what else could happen, to be fair.

Hopefully, Lady Blaze would not pull that dirty trick on him again soon.

Though the demon did not hold out all that much hope of that…

---

Vignette Three

---

Deadshot's perspective

_ _

---

Deadshot exhaled, keeping quiet. Harley Quinn filled the air with her noise – somehow even when she wasn't talking. He'd never quite understand that, no, not at all, though she was teaming up with the Suicide Squad more and more, which meant that he was forced into her presence. It didn't seem that she had to but was doing it for fun instead.

The team that time, however, was made up of himself, Captain Boomerang, Rick Flag, King Shark and Major Force. And Harley Quinn, though she was already getting more than enough screentime as it was.

King Shark grunted, inclining his chunky head towards the locked door that they had found. Infiltrating an underground base was of no issue to them, though the door that they had come across, while getting into the bowels of the base to seek intel, was rather troublesome.

Deadshot considered their options.

“Wait here," he said quietly, raising his voice only as much as he needed to so that he could command their attention. “Stay alert. I'll hack the look."

He focused, though there was on one there that would know what he was doing, attaching a device to the keypad that formed the exterior part of the locking device. It was advanced tech – that was how he would have explained it to them, anyway, if they had even wanted to know about it – that he had obtained from a dealer. Illegal, of course, but hardly anyone expected the Suicide Squad to be squeaky clean anymore, regardless of what the team was used for.

He focused, everything else falling away. It was a difficult one to crack and he concentrated, not even realising what Harley Quinn was doing. The room around them was dark, illuminated only by a torch that Rick Flag was holding.

Something in the room shuffled but Deadshot paid it no mind. It was just them being impatient and they were all going to have to wait for exactly as long as it took him to do it.

Yet he had to be as swift as he could be too…

“Hey, Harley… Mate, what are you doing?"

Huh?

_ _

Dragged from his concentration, Deadshot's head snapped up and around, focusing in on Harley Quinn. The jester squatted with her black and red form-fitting trousers yanked down only enough to expose her bare, white buttocks to them as she grunted through a bowel movement.

He paused for a moment, his mind struggling to catch up with exactly what it was that he was seeing. With her back to the rest of the team, the white of her bare buttocks seemed to stand out even more, bearing down with a shudder and a low grunt that, perhaps, they were not meant to hear. She had, at least, had the foresight to go to the corner of the room, a set of pipes running above her head that, occasionally, gurgled and clanked.

Deadshot blinked, not knowing what to do, Captain Boomerang making a face and backing away from her. it seemed that he had been the one to spot that Harley was doing something, yet again, that no one wanted any part in.

Pooping. She was pooping…in public. And that was just so Harley Quinn that he could believe it, even if he neither wanted to believe it nor deal with it.

She was just so blatant about it!

There was already one large fourteen-inch bowel movement on the floor and, even though he should have been focusing on the task at hand, it was harder still for Deadshot to do so when she was right there pooping in front of them as if it was the most normal thing in the world. It was almost too weird to be disgusting, even though his lips twitched, Deadshot naturally keeping his emotions under wraps while he was out on a mission, as was the case with him so very often.

But how could such a huge log of poop have come from a body like that? It was not something that he should have been marvelling at, though it was weird, very weird, as if she had saved up all her poop just for that moment. Was that something that the jester did? Did she think that the whole thing was just another one of her silly pranks? Where Harley Quinn was good at her job, she was not always the most focused on said jobs…

He'd stopped completely in his work while trying to work the hell out what Harley thought she was doing, bearing down on a sixteen-inch bowel movement – the size of which would only be determined when it was fully out of her backside. It seemed quite dark in colour, but it was hard to say in the dim lighting and he had the sense about him that he really shouldn't have been focusing on her waste as much as he was in that moment, despite everything. How was he not to stare at the huge poop pushing from her, however, Harley grunting, though no one else seemed to have made a fuss about what she was doing. Not yet, at least.

Harley would change that.

She glanced back over her shoulder, swinging her hips lightly back and forth as she pooped, catching Deadshot's eye.

“Hey, don't mind me, guys," she said cheerfully, her lips curving up into a grin that looked real even if the situation very much did not seem to be. “Juuuust dropping a deuce! You know how it is."

Giggling to herself as if she was not quite with it, even if that was just perfectly normal for Harley, she pushed down again, her pigtails bobbing back and forth, one tipped with black and the other tipped with red. Her blonde hair sometimes looked white in the right light, though Deadshot shook his head and shot the others a look.

Is she serious?

_ _

At least, that was what he wanted to say. King Shark did not seem all that bothered by what was going on, though his nostrils did twitch strangely, though Major Force, Captain Boomerang and Rick Flag had all pulled back. Maybe there were more used to the antics of Harley Quinn than he was?

The sixteen-inch bowel movement dropped to the ground with a wet, solid plop, seeming to be a little soft. Still, that was not the sort of thing that Deadshot wanted to be focusing on at all, not as his stomach churned and, despite everything, he started to feel a bit sick.

“Unggh…"

She let out a tiny grunt, though he could not have honestly said whether Harley was trying to be quiet or not, striving and struggling to focus back on his task. Yet it was like watching an accident in process, trapped by the obscene horror of what was going on. It should have been a perfectly normal bodily function – and yet one that very much so should have taken place in the privacy of a bathroom at the very least!

But Harley Quinn simply did not seem to consider such things like privacy as she, as she put it, “dropped a deuce." He could not have imagined being as crude as that, even though he was hardly saintly in his manner of speaking or being anyway.

His gaze grazed over the two bowel movements that she had already dropped, the long, thick logs of poop looking like they were much larger than anything that her body, or anyone, should have produced. Was there something wrong with her?

The were both large and he could see clearly how the second was definitely sixteen-inches long, a little darker than the first with a narrower end where it had left her backside. It looked like it could have been harder than the first too, for the first had a softer edge to it where it had “plopped" to the floor, that dull, wet sound lingering in the back of his mind. Of course, even when he was looking directly at her poop, lying there on the floor in the corner of the room for anyone to see, it was hard to determine such things.

Frankly, Deadshot didn't even know why he was doing it. Maybe it was all just part of him trying to make sense of everything, why Harley Quinn would go to such lengths just to do something so humiliating that it just didn't at all seem like anything at all that should have been done in public. The weight of those poops, however, was still something that he could almost feel, the sight of them making him want to recoil – even though he more than felt that she was trained enough in himself to not do such a thing.

He was not to say, not as she wriggled her hips, another log of waste emerging, that one much slower than the first, seemingly. He did not like one little bit that he knew that, his neck a little hot and uncomfortable from being forced to be a part of it.

Harley Quinn, however, took longer working on the third log of poop, clearly bearing down on it and pushing, though she did not make a further sound as she did so. There was a bob and a twitch to her pigtails, however, that suggested that she was exerting herself, even as he turned his gaze back to the lock…and then slid it back to her.

Damn it, why couldn't he look away? But it was not right, not right at all, a headache growing at the back of his head that was a constant problem, his sight wavering faintly. It just didn't make any sense at all why someone would do that right there, though he had not even yet found his words even while Captain Boomerang muttered something, which was probably derogatory, under his breath. Clearly, it had been directed at Harley Quinn, but the jester hummed faintly to herself as she pooped, not bothered at all if she had even heard him. That was something that Harley probably dealt with more often than not.

It was thicker around as Harley pushed it out, rocking her hips back a little, though he tried not to look at her nudity either. Yet how on earth was he at all supposed to concentrate when she was doing that? The white of her bare bottom was practically begging attention, standing out in the darkness. And then there was the darker smudge of the thick, unwieldy log of excrement pushing out from the middle, showing Deadshot everything that he would have much rather ignored. Some things, however, could not be ignored, even then.

It was not something even that he could report back: he would surely be laughed at. Captain Boomerang muttered something to Rick Flag, who looked briefly aghast, though Deadshot did not comment. They had most likely said a lot harsher amongst themselves. And did that meant hat the others there on the mission too were more familiar with Harley doing things like that?

He should have asked… And yet Deadshot only speculated.

No, no… Better not to think about that, her idiocy, the strangeness of the jester. Better to focus completely and utterly on the task at hand, the whirring mechanics of the device catching his attention, running through code after code for the lock, analysing fingerprints, security features – everything and anything that would get them through the locked door without being detected. If they were detected he was sure still that they would get out alive, even if they might not complete their mission in its entirety. And, honestly, that was the whole reason he was there.

To be paid, to do a job, to get out. To be a part of the Suicide Squad. He was sure that the others felt the same way, though taking liberties with the “getting out" part of the Suicide Squad and the mission that they were sent on was just the way of it. They all wanted to make sure that they got some time, when they were usually locked up or under exceedingly close monitoring, to be themselves.

Yet why did Harley think that being herself involved excreted a huge log of poop onto the floor? There were not even any smaller, softer, shorter bits of poop to break up the big masses, shocking even him. He didn't really want to think all that much about Harley Quinn's comfort but it was impossible not to even consider it when it came to wondering just how it was even possible for a huge poop like that, so thick that it had to be straining her body, to just work its way out of her body. And just where was it even coming from?

Best not to ask that question…

_ _

He ground his teeth together, clenching his jaw hard enough for it to ache in the corner. Yet that was nothing compared to the strain that Harley was going through, finally letting out a short, sharp grunt that, that time, sounded genuine, as she bore down, seemingly, with all the force and effort in her body that she could possibly muster up.

“Oof!" She exclaimed, though Deadshot still thought that she had to be doing it, being so loud and so obnoxious, for attention. “That's a tough one!"

He caught himself giving a small, throaty grunt of agreement and hoped very much that Harley did not notice it. She clearly had no qualms at all about going to the bathroom in public – something that he could not possibly fathom, despite having relieved himself in alleyways before when he had to take a leak – and was going to do whatever the hell she was going to do. And it was not as if he could just try to stop her going to the bathroom in the middle of it all, that would have been pretty gross.

He sighed minutely, trying to ignore it, even as that thickest bowel movement finally dropped to the ground with a dull, solid plop. It was as if it was trying to make the weight of itself known, even though no one else there wanted to pay any kind of attention to it at all. It just wasn't something that anyone should have been looking at and Deadshot did not even know why on earth someone would both take so long going to the bathroom and be making such a performance out of it.

Well, she is a jester…

_ _

Maybe that was so. Harley glanced back at her bowel movement, raising an eyebrow at how thick it was around.

“Wow, that's a big one!"

Rick Flag groaned, muttering under his breath, though he was one of the quieter ones, which wasn't quite like him either. Harley ignored him completely, as if he did not exist, though she still put on a show as if everyone was watching her. It could have been a private performance, for all Harley Quinn cared.

Harley, however, seemed to be nearing completion: something that Deadshot was very pleased to see. He could not have put words quite to the sense of pooling relief in his stomach, lightening him when he had not even realised that he'd been weighed down, when she pushed down and let out a much smaller bowel movement. Okay, it had to be about five inches long but it was more of a normal thickness and nothing at all like the big sixteen-incher that had been the second one. It was normal-er, better in his opinion.

Not that Harley Quinn clearly cared all that much at all for his opinion. She hummed a tune that sounded like it could have been a jaunty jig from the circus or similar, though he didn't know all that much about her history. Or he didn't remember about her being in the circus, anyway, not after all that craziness that she got into from Gotham Asylum with the Joker. Maybe Harley wouldn't have been the way she was if she had never met him, though there was no sense at all in trying to understand her, really. If Harley Quinn wanted to tell her story, one day, she'd probably lay out one that may or may not have been real. After all, everything was a performance.

Even “dropping a deuce," as she said.

He sighed, trying to look away but finding his eyes going obnoxiously back to her, over and over again, as Harley finished off with two more smaller, thinner bowel movements, one of which was three inches long and the other of which was six inches, as if it was trying to mock the others with its size. The last log of poop landed over the biggest one, impossible to ignore, even as Deadshot shook his head. To excrete that much and have no shame at all about it was beyond anything that he had ever considered prior, though Harley didn't seem all that interested at all in hiding it away or covering it up at all.

It was just left there, a proud pile for all to see, the six-inch log of waste in the middle shifting to the side a little, as if the smaller, thinner bowel movements that had come over the top of it had changed the balance of the pile. He could not even be sure whether Harley Quinn had been trying to make the pile neat or not, because he couldn't see into her mind. With the precision of an acrobat, however, he had to assume that everything that she did was deliberate.

He wondered if he would have been ashamed of needing to go to the bathroom so badly that he pooped in public… But Deadshot was sure that he would never have done such a thing, not ever, or at the very least would have tucked himself away in a discreet, modest corner away from everyone else if things had really gone awry.

Harley Quinn tidied up her clothes, clearly making sure that she was fresh and clean, though she didn't check to see if anyone was looking at her or not, as if that just wasn't the sort of thing that at all bothered her. He was still trying to make sense of something that could not be made sense of, though even King Shark seemed to be giving the huge pile of poop on the ground a disapproving look. And he was the one of the group that they all would have considered the most uncouth and crudest of them all, even if that may not always have been so.

Yeah… He'd never understand her.

So, he would not. He turned his attention back to the tech in his hand, his right hand still resting on it as it worked. Thankfully for him, it was more or less automatic in how it ran, though he would have preferred to have more of a hand in maintaining it, rather than just letting it do its thing. But he still had to pull himself together and not just stare at Harley in shock anymore, even if that too seemed like an exceptionally fair thing for him to be doing at that time. She was the one who had gone and put herself out there, after all.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Shoot. The tech was stuck working on the final locking mechanism, leaving them stuck in there still with the pile of Harley Quinn's poop. Great, just great. Looking back, he was almost surprised at seeing Harley fully dressed and normal again, even though her voice raised against Captain Boomerang's.

“Why would you do something like that?" He all but snarled, gesturing a little wildly as he swept his hand out to the side to make his point. “That's disgusting!"

Harley rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest, rocking back on her heels. She was the very picture of petulance, though it was not as if anyone there either could have gotten her back in line at all, no. They could just about keep her on mission most of the time, though she much preferred having something to shoot up or swing her massive hammer at, depending on what her preferred weapon of choice was at any one time.

“Oh, boy, you're a cranky one aren't you?" She said, unimpressed. “I had to take a dump, what did you want me to do?"

He scowled, clenching his hand into a fist.

“But… On the floor! Of all places!"

“Gee! Well, was I supposed to go in my pants or what? That's gross!"

He sighed, some of the steam going out of him. Perhaps he realised that there was no point in pressing on when Harley was as obstinate as she was. Though there was only so much that his nature would let him do too.

“You could have gone to another room, held it in… I don't know, you could have been a normal person – it's not that hard!"

It was, however, just a bit much for Harley, who scowled darkly at him.

“Hey!" She pointed at Deadshot, who froze, not particularly wanting to be involved in that argument in the slightest. “He told us to stay put! And wait for him – and that stupid door! If it's anyone's fault, it's his!"

Deadshot pressed his lips together, shaking his head back and forth minutely, though not enough to be noticed.

“The two of you," he said, his voice dropping an octave from normal, throat a little raspier than usual. “Calm down."

The tech clicked in his hand, subtle enough so that no one else would notice unless they were close to him, and he exhaled subtly.

“And it is done. We have a job to do and we should focus on that. Not…this."

With the door lock finally overridden, Harley and Captain Boomerang, with Harley's hands on her hips already as if she was spoiling for a fight, they could, at least, get on with things. Captain Boomerang, on the other hand, was not quite done, mouth open as if he was going to say something – and then thinking better of it.

“What's going on with the door then?"

He turned to Deadshot, who was more than happy to grunt and let him see that it was almost done, and that they would, once again, be able to enter the facility undetected. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he caught sight of Harley sticking her tongue out at Captain Boomerang, though she was cautious enough to make sure that he fully had his back to her first.

Harley flipped off Captain Boomerang too, sticking up two middle fingers at him, though the door clicking and swinging open distracted them in the moment. The group moved through the door with a grumble and a shuffle, struggling to get back into the swing of things after a break like that. No one, really, other than Harley, had gotten much of a rest there, to be fair.

Harley, however, was the last of the group to head through the door, moving past Deadshot with a side-on look and a smirk.

“I wonder what crawled up Captain Boomerang's butt today?" She chirped, as jovial as if she was making passing conversation that totally wasn't about pissing off another member of the team. “He's cranky – cranky, cranky, cranky!"

Deadshot sighed and put his hand on the back of his neck, folding his fingers gently around.

“Hm… He's probably simply nervous about the mission," he offered, though it was not something that he honestly thought. “Don't worry about it."

He wasn't going to bring up her pooping. It wasn't something that he wanted at all to get into, more confused about the whole thing rather than disgusted, but he could not help but shake his head at her.

Harley grinned.

“Well, you won't have to worry about me causing trouble," she announced loudly, as if she was trying to get on Captain Boomerang's nerves. “Because there's nothing up my butt!"

She exploded off into peals of laughter, barely able even to maintain eye contact with Deadshot, though someone up ahead was already groaning, muttering and grumbling under their breath. It didn't quite sound like Captain Boomerang, however, which was most certainly a plus point on that matter.

Yet her laughter bounced off the walls as much as he rolled his eyes and hoped that the muting tech, which they had all been outfitted with, was going to be enough to keep her at least somewhat muffled. Of course, that was very unlikely to be the case, but a shootout, at the very least, would help everyone blow off some steam. Hell knew that Deadshot needed to let loose a bit too.

“Ah-ahahahhahah! Hahahahahahaaaahhhh!"

She wheezed and slapped her leg, seemingly unable to control her hysterics, tears even leaking from the corners of her eyes. He surveyed her with a shrewd look, standing back a bit, though made no move to interrupt Harley Quinn, not when her laughter bounced off the walls as it did. Somehow, she made it seem like there were so many more “Harley's" than there actually were.

He rolled his eyes as she walked away – though that was not always as easy as one might have thought for him, considering that he had his replaced, bionic eye in place at that time. It glowed faintly, though he could turn down the illumination on it when needed, even if it was more useful for things other than his remaining “good" eye.

She did not see, for she did not care, but there was not a hint of a smile on his face. It just…wasn't the time or the place. And Harley should have seen that too, even if everything always ended up being nothing more than a big joke to her, something that she could turn and twist to her amusement. Even when it all came down to leaving a pile of poop on the ground, cooling slowly, though he was glad, at least, that he had not had to get an up close and personal look at it.

That would have been even worse.

Finally, he closed the unlocked, door after him, pacing quickly to join the rest of the group. Yet Deadshot would never tell anyone that he paused in the moment just before closing the door, taking one final look back at the thick, heavy pile of poop lying in the corner of the room as if it had always been there, as if it was so ostentatiously placed that it absolutely must have had some kind of right to be there. One of the logs had rolled off to the side a little, though was still with the main group, fading into darkness as he shook his head and carried on.

She was a very odd person.

Up ahead, her laughter echoed, not a care in the world for their safety. Deadshot exhaled subtly, a tiny sigh.

A very odd person indeed.

Vignette Four

---

Superwoman's perspective

_ _

_ _

Superwoman exhaled softly, coming back to the waking world after a long, deep night of sleep. For a moment, it took a few seconds for her to get her bearings, for she was neither home nor anywhere that she recognised.

Ah. It came back to her then, her black hair spilling around her head in a dark halo while she lay there, in the sleeping bag, blinking and getting a feel for her surroundings once more. That was it. Circe… Yes, Circe had opened up the alternate dimension for them, for they were being hunted by that jumped-up little witch – or, at least, she thought she was a witch – Zatanna. And she had been getting closer and closer, much closer than Superwoman was happy to contend with, despite her powers, forcing them to jump into the alternate dimension to get a little space to regroup and form a plan of attack.

She pressed her lips together and breathed out again through her nose. Oh, the indignancy of the last time they had come across Zatanna… As much as it pained Superwoman to say it, they had barely escaped their last encounter with her and that was hardly something that either Circe or she wanted to have on record. Bruised and battered and fighting off magical attacks, they had retreated to what Superwoman could only describe as an ancient castle that floated up in space, hidden from view of the earthly realm by a magical barrier. If she looked closely when they moved through the barrier, she could see it shimmering in the air, like a forcefield, though it was something far more sophisticated than that.

Of course, it was not like the kind of powers that Superwoman could wield – it was more Circe's forte than hers in that regard – but she was grateful for it all the same. She and Circe had been talking a little more, which made their isolation, at the very least, somewhat easier to bear, but taking on an ally…

Yes, that was something that she was going to have to think through more clearly another day.

The sleep, however, was needed as Superwoman slowly sat up from her sleeping bag, exhaling softly again, breathing slowly and deeply and evenly, taking care with every breath. There, she was safe and there was nothing that needed her to operate in haste.

In the castle, which was neither of theirs but a part of the alternate dimension that Circe had been able to slip them into, they had set up their sleeping bags on the floors of one of the upper rooms. It was likely that they would not stay there for long, truly, for they always seemed to have to be on the move. At least it was exciting, though, in a way, there was a part of Superwoman that wanted to settle in one place, so that she didn't always have to be looking for danger.

Yet it was the way of it and it was not as if she was going to come over to the way of thinking of those that were out to protect the world and the galaxies… No, that wasn't her at all.

Nearby, Circe was still slumbering, her red hair braided for the night so that it was not flung wildly all about her head as Superwoman's had ended up. She pressed her lips together more softly, less as if she was trying to make a point to herself, relaxing now that she remembered where she was and her surroundings felt a bit more familiar despite everything. As much as she moved around, she should have been more comfortable in strange places.

But that was for her to worry about, if at all. With Circe still asleep, Superwoman was not prepared to wait there for Circe to wake. After all, they were more than familiar with one another and Circe would not worry at all if she was not there when she woke up.

She slipped out of her sleeping back, leaving it rolled up neatly at the side of their chosen room to sleep in. Her sleeping clothes were plain and comfortable, though easy to get out of, for it was not as if Superwoman could sleep in her usual off-the-shoulders costume. That one was smooth and flexible, hugging her body and even showing off the muscle in her abdomen, and Superwoman let out a soft sigh as she swiftly and efficiently changed into it.

Sliding it on over her legs and putting her boots in place, the full-body suit was something like a catsuit, even if Superwoman would never have stooped so low as to call it such. In a dark shade of fabric that came with a latex-like shine to it, even though it was not latex by any means, it hugged her chest and showed off the rise of her breasts, while keeping them under control for what she needed to do. It was not as if, even with her usual underwear in place too, she wanted her body to be uncomfortable in any way.

No… She had too much to do there. But, first, smoothing down her black outfit so that it settled into place over her hips, a fold of cloth resting around her shoulders, back and across the front of her chest below her collar bone, she had some exploring to do.

All on her own, that was at least something that she could do, get her bearings by actually going around the castle, even though, that time, Superwoman was quite sure that it was secure. Circe was nothing if not thorough, at least in her experience. The long night of sleep, however, had most certainly done her well as she rolled her shoulders back and grumbled softly as a small knot popped out of her back. Of course, that was just a contraction in the muscle and not a real knot but old terms would never quite die, especially when it came to something like that.

Superwoman moved quietly from the room, padding lightly in her long, black boots, though they did not even squeak, flexing to the pull and shape of her lower legs. She smiled lightly, closing the heavy, wooden door after her, though it had taken a lot more effort than Superwoman had thought it would just to get it open in the first place.

“Hm…"

It closed on her heels a little too heavily, requiring her to lean into it lightly, not using her strength. She didn't want to slam it into the frame, after all, and there was so much that she could easily slip into, if she did not consider her body, her powers.

Still, that was just an occupational hazard, in a way, of being Superwoman. She paused outside the room, taking in the wide hallway with a wooden floor, though it did not at all look like it had been taken care of in quite some time. There were even a couple of nails, in the corner of the hallway especially, that were sticking up in odd directions.

Superwoman took care. A squeaky floorboard or two wasn't about to catch her off-guard, no, and neither would it hurt her, though she was still ever so slightly on edge after being pursued by Zatanna. Just what did the jumped-up little wench think she was doing? Well, presumably what she had been told to, but, once upon a time, Zatanna had been a law unto herself, as the saying went.

Superwoman shook her head. It was not for her to speculate on, though she could feel as bitter as she liked that someone like Zatanna could be turned from making a life for herself into simply performing for the Justice League, practically. There was nothing more that she could do, after all, when they had their controlling hand so firmly on top of her.

She rolled her shoulders back, the light shift of fabric across the front of her chest and collar bone tugging lightly, shifting her weight from foot to foot, the smooth flow of walking almost foreign to her. She spent so much time flying that walking could sometimes feel unusual, though she didn't feel like it at that time either.

Things were changing and she would have to catch up with that shift in her too, clearly…

A big set of double doors, on their raised level, led out to a balcony and she curiously approached them, though the doors hung slightly off their hinges, almost as if they had never sat fully into place in the frame. Placing both hands on the doors, she pushed them open together, a chilly breeze picking her hair up from her shoulders and the back of her neck, falling beautifully and gracefully even though she'd not had a brush to run through it. Sometimes mundane things like that were beneath her.

“Mm…"

Still, she could appreciate the space, the feeling of emptiness around her, as she stepped out through the double doors onto a balcony. It was dawn, somewhere, though Superwoman still didn't quite know “where" that new dimension was, one that was new to her. But the space around her, how it stretched out so very far, off into the distance of even her extreme eyesight, stars dotting the sky from far-off solar systems and galaxies.

They could almost feel close, sometimes, though the sun of the local solar system was, at the very least, visible with the coming of the dawn, lighting up the sky in the distance with a golden glow. She peered over the edge of the balcony, which was framed with a stone palisade, though she would not have, of course, been at any risk at all if she had fallen and dropped over the edge. She just wouldn't have wanted to go through the barrier that separated the dimension of the castle accidentally, for that may well have revealed their position. It seemed like the dimension was a smaller one set within the bounds of the planet that they were on, though it did not matter as long as they went undetected there. Anyway, it was beyond what Superwoman needed to know, as long as she had access to it and was safe.

Still, the stars were nice to look at, even as they faded, slowly, in the growing dawn of the morning sky. They would always be chased away by the morning, which was, quite honestly, rather something of a shame.

She withdrew, pursing her lips. Nipping lightly at the flesh of her mouth, she sighed and chewed lightly, thoughtfully, though not hard enough to hurt herself. It would have taken rather a lot to hurt her, to be fair, though she could not help but think that she was, indeed, rather fortunate to be travelling with Circe. Circe, after all, had known of the secret castle base that was hidden and protected by magic and been able to slip into the dimension. Dimension hopping was becoming increasingly common, though that did not mean, entirely, that it was still an easy feat for anyone. She was still getting the hang of it and not leaving a trace of her passage too was difficult.

While Circe was asleep and they could not plan their next move, she decided to explore the castle – the inside of it too, not just the balcony. The doors softly closed on her heels as she retreated into the hallway, wide and as if it had been picked from something medieval, though that was not a time that Superwoman was particularly familiar with. She took a deep breath, lightly musty air tickling her lungs, though there was a centre rug in the main hallways, as if it was there to cover the tread of so many feet traipsing over them over all the years that it had stood there. Maybe it had even been a medieval fortress, one time, before it had been transported to the dimension.

There was no real way for her to know and not having that knowledge too displeased her, as if there was an itch that Superwoman could not scratch.

There were even suits of armour set up in some of the hallways, appearing as if they were for show rather than for use, for none of them were dented and everything, even after so many years, had been polished to a sheen. She tilted her head curiously, a shimmer of her reflection showing in one. It was just that shiny.

They were set up on stands as if they were to stand there and pose as sentinels, though Superwoman briefly considered if something similar could be used with enchantments or with her powers, levitation and the like, to ambush or attack a threat. That was an interesting concept, though Superwoman doubted very much that she was going to be around any suits of armour, really, in the future.

The stone walls were rough under her fingers, though there, most likely, had not been anything rubbing or dragging over them. She wondered just what lives had been led back there before everything had changed, shaking her head slowly as she eyed up a tapestry that was still hanging from the wall. Of course, it was covered in dust, which was an odd but stark contrast to the suits of armour, but she did not pay it too much mind as she shook it lightly and stood back.

It showed a battlefield, though she could have recounted far more fearsome battles, of course, than what that one showed. Horses and men, from Earth, with swords and spears… It was impressive, however, just how well the colours had been preserved in that dimension.

Perhaps time works differently here…

_ _

The library, however, seemed to draw her there – and the castle proved itself very much to be something from a world that she was not familiar with. It was something more than that, the books filling the library shelves from floor to ceiling, prompting her to use her flight powers to levitate up to the highest level, fascinated.

So many books… She would never have been seen so infatuated before, though her fascination was something best served wherever and whenever Superwoman found herself alone. They were written in languages that she had never before read or learned, filled with spells, runes and incantations impossible to miss while she leafed through them. For once, however, Superwoman put everything back carefully where she found it, moving from one to the next, searching for something that she could use.

If others could use spells, why should she not either?

She wanted to delve into them and would have spent hours upon hours in the library, if not for the rest of the castle calling her name. It was as if there was something there drawing her through it, though it did not seem to be a sinister presence in the slightest. Perhaps it was residual, leftover magic from times long gone by. She would ask Circe about it another time and perhaps see if she knew the languages of any of the spells. Liberating the castle of a few books to send back to her hideout would most certainly be something that Superwoman would keep on her radar.

There was more still to take in, as much as she was already fascinated with the library. It looked as if the place had, in part, been cared for, though things were not all as they seemed. For the tapestry had had dust on it while the suits of armour had been polished to a high shine. Maybe the occupant of the castle, who was clearly not there at that time, only came by periodically to take care of what they could? It would have been quite a tall order for a single person, after all, to care for an entire castle and make sure that everything was taken care of in there… Particularly due to the age of it.

Yet even the plants were watered, a sort of conservatory not seeming to fit in there and extending for several room lengths along part of the exterior wall of the castle. Through the glass windows, she could further take in the rising glow of the dawn, how it shimmered off the windows, the plants quietly sitting in the soft humidity of the conservatory. Or maybe it would be considered a greenhouse under such circumstances, though Superwoman did not honestly much care.

She was interested in the plants though, what business they had in being there, running her fingers over the leaves, which bowed and gave in response to her touch. Some of the plants even swayed lightly in such a fashion that Superwoman looked back at them suspiciously, concerned that they were doing something there that she was not aware of. If there were spell books in the castle, after all, it did serve to make sense that, in a way, they could also be enchanted…

She exhaled softly, heading down a narrow corridor. Though it didn't seem normal to her, the purpose of it was revealed when it led to a spiralling staircase – a staircase that went up and up and up. Levitating rather than walking was the order of the day and she used her powers to easily float all the way up without feeling at all as if she had exerted herself. Truthfully, Superwoman enjoyed the ease in which she could do such things, though they were rarely present in such quiet moments for her to enjoy them.

The astronomy tower with a large telescope poised in the centre of the room and a hatch that could be slid back to reveal the sky did not hold her attention for all that long, however. It might have, if she could not have simply flown off to visit whatever planets or stars captured her attention, though she made sure to seal the hatch on the rounded roof of the tower before leaving too. She didn't want such a silly thing to draw Zatanna's attention – if she was even in the area or even on the same planet. Who was to know?

She came across the small closet almost by accident, going down a long hallway that seemed to have lots of options for storage in it and access to a kitchen too – perhaps more of a servant's quarters than where the resident of the castle would most usually live. She opened the closet, not expecting anything out of the ordinary, and could not close it.

For the sight that she was greeted by was by far one that she could not and would not have expected. There were brooms in there, a small broom closet big enough to fit a person and some space to turn around, and cleaning materials fit for the castle and…one, long log of poop.

What?

And it was extremely long. It was so long that it could almost have been mistaken for something else, if not for Superwoman, of course, instantly recognising it for what it was. She, after all, faced the same issue when it came to the embarrassment of her bowel movements, needing to take in more sustenance to fuel her powers and then, of course, needing to excrete it all out more too. It was something common to those with greater powers and, sometimes, even those that had to use the bathroom in unusual situations, though she had not spent all that much time with those that did not even have their own powers.

They didn't interest her. Not enough that her attention would be kept.

But the long poop… Why, it was almost a rope, over three and a half feet long, for sure, snaking its way across the floor as if the person who was unfortunate enough to produce the huge bowel movement had had to shuffle along the floor while they had been expelling it! It even looked hard! No… No, the consistency even seemed to change along the full length of the one long rope of poop, something that should never have come from anything at all approaching a human-like body.

To imagine shuffling across the floor like a commoner while excreting, however, what one's body forced her into… Superwoman suppressed a shudder. That would have been so humiliating if it had ever happened to her!

Her cheeks warmed but she scoffed and waved away the heat of a blush there, embarrassment weighing heavy in the pit of her stomach. Function of the body… Ugh! She would have much rather not had to think about things like that at all! Let alone do it! Even though, well, everybody pooped, even villains and the like just like her.

That didn't mean that it wasn't embarrassing, even if she still sympathised with whoever had had to force it all out. The problem there, however, was that…well…there was only one real person that could have pooped there, especially when she was sure that there were only the two of them there in the castle.

She should have looked away…and yet she could not. She had to stare at it, to let her eye roam down the long, undulating length of the three-foot-long bowel movement, the poop something like a snake, though it was soft and lifeless, as it should have been. The part that she had taken to be hard, at first, had been a trick of the light, even though what may have come out first was rougher and firmer in texture and consistency, the darkest part of the log. The colour was quite dark, compared to what she would normally poop, but it was not so much so that someone should have been concerned about the poop for any health reasons or anything like that.

There was a bit of crackling around the end that may well have been that part that was pooped out first, a little harder and firmer there, as if the texture and consistency of the poop changed along the full length of it. She didn't want to get too close or look too closely at it, though her weird kind of fascination was not to be swayed. The colour was a little lighter in the middle of it, though that could have been a trick of the light. Or not. She didn't really want to know.

How uncomfortable must it have been, however, to keep scooting forward while going to the bathroom? Superwoman gulped hard and suppressed the urge to squirm, something uncomfortable churning in the pit of her stomach. She could only imagine just how the boots would have scuffed and scraped across the floor, making a horrendous noise, how it must have felt, in a terrible sort of way, to be in motion while grunting and pushing, doing what their body needed them to.

It had to have been so awkward. Superwoman glanced down at the poop and found her gaze transfixed once more, locked onto it. The shape was even more defined against the bare floorboards, the end that had to have been excreted last rounded softly. That end of the poop looked the softest of all, as if it would have been squidgy and squashed in if touched, though that was not something that Superwoman would ever have done, no. She didn't want to think about that, to deal with that, though she was at least glad that she didn't have to move the poop.

Hellfire… That would have been ridiculous, truly. And humiliating, completely.

And it was almost as thick as a baseball bat around too… Just how could something like that come out of a body? Not that her own bowel movements were not thick and annoying at best but…that on its own there was something pretty extreme. She couldn't have gotten her fingers, surely, all the way around it if she'd tried. The end was thinner though and she was surprised that she hadn't noticed it before, because it was a bit strange that her eye was dragged all over the place, trying to make sense of the poop that really shouldn't have been there.

Weren't there even bathrooms in the place too? Or were they… Superwoman grappled with the idea, for she didn't know anything about medieval castles in any way, no. Maybe a new fortress or a military complex, for she had infiltrated both and lived in the former…

She gulped and shook her head, lips pressed into a thin, hard line. Even her jaw felt tense from a muscle jumping in the corner of it, though she didn't quite know why she was so stressed.

She should have been used to Circe's very unusual “productions" by that time, though the main fact of it was that Circe was the only other one there, besides her. It had to be Circe, though she dimly remembered another excretion of Circe's that she had come across that was a looping circle, going around and around and around, coiled up on the floor like a rope.

She didn't know which was worse, frankly. Or if it was more the fact that she was right there in that moment, forced to look at the poop on the ground as if she was responsible for it.

Ugh…

_ _

No, no, it wasn't her problem, no. Even if she was continuously being caught off guard by Circe's bathroom activities. Did the woman ever actually even use a bathroom? Superwoman wasn't all that sure about that, though it was not as if her odd excretions would even fit down there either. That would have been a problem with most modern bathrooms, after all, considering the size of their bowel movements.

She sighed and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. It felt like her eyes were going to pop out of her head, she had been straining so much, though relieving the tension ever so slightly helped too.

I just wish… She thought. These poops… They're always all over the place when we're together… And it always seems to be me that finds them. Why is that? Is she setting me up to find her poop?

_ _

No, no… That couldn't be so. That couldn't be true. Yet it was always her that was coming across the strange, unusual and definitely embarrassing poops that Circe produced! Maybe it was because they were working together, tentatively, on the run and hiding from Zatanna, though it had already happened more than once during their time together. A few times… That seemed like it was more than a mere coincidence, even if she didn't know what to say about any of it.

It's not as if there's anywhere outdoors here, she tried to reason with herself. So… Nowhere that Circe could have gone out there. So… At least she tried to find a quiet place to go to the bathroom. That's a good thing, isn't it?

_ _

Yet Superwoman didn't honestly know who she was trying to convince. If she was trying to convince anyone, just why was she trying to persuade herself that Circe wasn't trying to trick her? She could not have even said whether that was the case for her or not, whether Circe was that kind of person. They didn't have that kind of deep relationship.

Her stomach rumbled faintly, down in the depths of it, though she grimaced. No… No, she wouldn't, that time, have to poop there, not as Circe had. There had to be some kind of bathroom in the castle, regardless of whether it was just a hole in a board and a container underneath… She didn't know what kind of bathrooms they would have there, but they would have some unless they were nothing more than savages! Whoever had made the castle, that was… But there was no way for Superwoman to know that, unless she was going to express some interest in the history of the castle.

Honestly, she would have liked to spend her time in the library still. That was somewhere, deciphering spells and finding ways to put them to her use, that she could have spent hours in, perhaps even days. Maybe they would have both of those things there, all for Superwoman to take all that she wanted from the library, though it would have been interesting still to think of how others would see her, if her interest in the library was revealed.

Or maybe that was just another way in which Superwoman was trying to distract herself from the poop lying on the ground. She had not come across a bathroom, fair, and Circe likely just used the most convenient location. If she had pooped something that large, she must have been needing to go for some time before.

But everything was fine. Kind of.

I should look elsewhere, she thought, considering her options as, finally, she backed away from the giant, snaking poop. I won't say anything about what I've seen here, there's no point in it…

_ _

She could find a bathroom then, just for her future use. That was definitely something that she would keep in mind.

She could not stop herself from lingering, however, even though she wished that she could wipe the sight entirely from her mind and forget that she had even come across Circe's poop yet again. The presence of it was almost ominous, thick and unwieldy, though it had clearly needed to be pooped out. It was something that they all had to go through and the slightly musty smell of the broom closet seemed to follow Superwoman out into the corridor as she backed away slowly.

The poop would be left there, so obvious, so on show – to anyone that dared open the door. But she wouldn't say a single word about it to anyone, least of all to Circe.

She deserved her privacy too.

Closing the door after her, she let out a breath, though she had not realised that she had not been breathing deeply but shallowly. That was odd, for her, but all could return to normal from that point on, all as she tried to work out just what it was that they needed to do to get away from Zatanna and stay away.

They just wanted to live their lives… Even if they were due to cause more than a little mischief and chaos at times too. If others got hurt in the process or they stole or infiltrated or more, well… She could go on.

But it was better to show things as they happened, to live her life as it was meant to. And that meant getting away from Zatanna, throwing the sneaky wench well off her tail! She couldn't let someone like that get the better of her, oh no. Whatever Circe thought of the matter, seeming quieter and more amenable to merely staying out of the range of justice from time to time, though perhaps she could be fiercer too. That was something, at the very least, that she might be able to tease out of Circe in time.

Setting her mind to brighter things, she smiled tightly and stepped out into the corridor, intending to wake Circe up in a bit if she did not wake on her own.

Ignoring the poop that was left behind, they had plans to be made.