Toxic, Part 4

Toxic, Part 4

By Smokedawg (aka JbouleyJdog)

Blog: http://betterwithsmoke.wordpress.com

E-mail: pseudojeff@msn.com

All DC Comics characters used for entertainment purposes only, and remain the
copyright of DC Comics and its affiliate and/or parent companies.

NOTE: This story is inspired by an idea presented to me by Blackbladder, the
author of many memorable smoking fetish tales, including the Buffy the
Vampire Slayer fan fiction story, "Demon Weed."
----------------------------------------------

Lois Lane had never been much into looking sloppy. Even as a military brat,
moving from base to base as a child and teenager, she'd aimed high on
personal bearing. But then again, her father wasn't just some average
soldier. He'd been an officer, and she always knew he was going to rise high
in the ranks - and he did indeed do just that, all the way up to general -
and she always wanted to reflect as well on him as she did on herself.

Still, though, going to salons simply wasn't her style, at least not going to
fancy ones. Lois shopped for good quality, but shopped smart with an eye for
getting the most for her dollar, and that went as much for her hair as it did
for her clothes and accessories. Coming to Fantasia Luxe was the kind of
extravagance that she would usually have shunned. But the substantial
discounts being given to anyone who worked in the Daily Planet building,
regardless of whether they were Daily Planet employees, certainly helped her
decision-making.

Plus, Lana had been giving the place glowing reviews, and even Cat had plenty
good to say about it. So here she was, for a simple little trim and style on
the coif, and maybe to buy a bottle of that Persuasion perfume on the way
out.

Lois let the handsome young male hairdressing assistant at the shampoo and
conditioning station lean her neck back against the edge of the sink, the
coolness of the porcelain shocking her for a moment as it always did, before
the warmth of her skin rebalanced everything. And then the warm spray of
water across her brunette hair to brought true comfort. Lois always closed
her eyes for this. Even at a simple little salon, this was one of her
favorite moments: someone washing her hair.

If Clark spent less time fighting crime and more time with his fingers in my
hair, we might have way fewer stresses these days, she thought.

The assistant leaned over and whispered in her ear, with his deep melodic
voice, saying, "Let me know if I make the water too hot. Or rub you too
hard."

His voice was wonderful, and she savored the feel of it in her head. She
didn't even mind the faint scent of cigarette smoke on his hair and skin. It
gave her pleasant memories of her own smoking in the distant past, and
reminded her how much she missed it, especially now that so many other women
in and around the Daily Planet seemed to be taking up the habit lately. 

And the smell of smoke mixed so well with some cologne he was wearing. Did
they sell that here too, as well as Persuasion? She wondered.

Then she stopped thinking about that as warm water cascaded over her scalp
with just enough force to tingle and massage without stinging, trickling just
a little down the back of her neck with a pleasant tickle. Her hair became
heavier with the wetness, dropping down into the sink and pulling her with it
just a little. She always loved this.

And then the water went off, and she heard the pop of a bottle top being
opened, and the soft, slick sound of shampoo being squirted into a hand. Next
she heard the sound of those two hands rubbing together, and then the soft
caress of soapy fingers working foam into her hair and scalp - a wonderful
sudsy slickness that always seemed just a tad erotic to her.

She licked her lips, then her breath deepened, as she realized this felt
better than any time in the past.

The shampoo itself seemed richer, thicker, and slicker...but not slimy - so
smooth, like silk or satin on her skin, but moist and nourishing. It almost
felt like it was filling up every pore and every bit of skin between her hair
follicles. She smiled and almost giggled at the thought that it might even be
filling up her mind.

The hairdressing assistant was humming some soothing tune that mixed so
nicely with the music playing on the salon's sound system. She sighed as his
fingers expertly massaged the soapy wonderfulness into her scalp. He seemed
to take a long time doing it, which was fine by her.

And then, finally, warm water to wash it all way, making Lois almost sad with
its absence, until Mario - hmmmm, when had he told her his name? - reassured
her that the conditioning treatment was even better, and the scalp massage
like a decadent dessert to follow the appetizer of the shampoo and the main
course of the conditioner.

If this is pre-styling activity is the meal, following Mario's metaphor, and
I haven't even gotten to the hairdresser who will be cutting my hair yet,
what is that experience supposed to be likened to? Lois wondered almost
lasciviously. Drinks and live music? Or perhaps after-dinner sex? 

She giggled to herself, and didn't wonder at how unlike her it was to be
giggling. And then giggling gave way to sighs and small moans as Mario worked
in the conditioner. Lois couldn't understand why, but she was becoming wholly
aroused now. Her panties were beginning to dampen. She wanted to say
something. Maybe ask him to cut this short and stop. Or maybe to apologize,
but he was saying such sweet things about her hair and bone structure that
she couldn't seem to find a place to interject. And besides, her tongue felt
sluggish and heavy. She wasn't sure she could talk. Her whole body seemed to
be buzzing just a little, and it, too, seemed heavy. The shampoo chair seemed
to almost have a hold on her, embracing her, perhaps even gripping her in
some sort of erotic bondage.

She lost her self-consciousness about her moaning; mostly because she was too
busy savoring all these sensations to realize she was moaning, and writhing a
little, too - her hips, at least.

The conditioning treatment was hot and moist and slick and smooth and
satisfying. Filling. Filling her. Linking her mind to Mario's fingers, she
imagined. And when he rinsed it out, she felt that same sense of loss as
before, but he gave her leave-in conditioner that felt almost as good, and
gave her a scalp massage that made her want to not only tip him when he
finally finished, but perhaps to give him a soul kiss.

When Lois finally found herself in the hairdresser's chair, ready to get her
hair trimmed and styled, she had no idea how she had gotten there. She did
know, however, that her panties were sticky with a furious orgasm that she
didn't remember even having, but paradoxically realized she had very much
enjoyed.

Then Colleen, the hairdresser whom Lana Lang had recommended so highly, was
speaking to her in butter-smooth tones and snipping at her hair, and Lois
could smell the heady mix of the woman's perfume and smokiness surrouding her
head, and she drifted back into bliss.

And began to become hot and moist all over again.

* * *

Almost everything in Toxine's apartment in the Teena Industries corporate
office building was made of some sort of synthetic and sturdy material. Even
her sheets and blankets had to be made of thick latex to endure the effects
of her perspiration.

So many toxins that her body naturally produced since that lab accident - and
ever since then, the idea of her old name, Justine Teena, just seemed
ludicrous. She wasn't really human anymore. Wasn't her old self. She was
Toxine now. Toxic, toxic Toxine. And that was why she need all of this to
work. Why the plan she had hatched with Nicoletta's help had to succeed. 

She lit up one of Teena Industries' new Steampunk cigarettes. They had a very
old-world look to them somehow, almost like they were made of copper and
wood, even though they were just paper and tobacco. Rare for one of her
cousin Nicoletta's smoking products, this brand was almost pure tobacco with
few additives. About the only thing that put it in a class of its own was the
vastly increased nicotine and tar content. 

That, she thought to herself with an inward smile, was a sign of Nicoletta's
love for her. These cigarettes would never be able to be sold in the open
market - at least not yet - given their particularly heavy and damaging
nature.

But Nicoletta knows that this new, altered body of mine requires poisons and
harsh chemicals now just as much as it needs vitamins, minerals, fats and
proteins, Toxine mused. This is her way to give me a way to keep enjoying my
smoking, but also satisfy my actual biological needs.

Needs.

It all came down to needs in the end, didn't it?

Her boyfriend had died thanks to her needs... and desires. She had naïvely
assumed she could pump antidotes and antitoxins from her body to keep him
safe from her poisonous emissions. Kenneth had loved her enough to trust her.
Or had it simply been that the pheromones and aphrodisiacs she produced now,
too, muddled his mind and made him her sex slave?

Such thoughts tortured her constantly. When he had gotten sick from extended
contact with her, she had tried to stay away. But she hungered for him and he
couldn't keep away from her either. It had killed him in the end. 

God, I'm such a whore now, poisonous and with a raging libido. I've always
been libidinous but now it's so amped up to the nth degree, she thought.
Nicoletta found me new boy toys, and they sickened and died even faster than
Kenneth did. I'm burning out vibrators with a vengeance. My body seems to
crave orgasms as much as it does poisons.

But The Flash could change all that; which the two cousins were both
virtually certain.

Toxine breathed smoke deep into herself, and held it in her lungs. She
relished the swirling heat and toxicity. The rush of nicotine and the
deposition of tar. The joys of the carbon monoxide. The lingering taste of
the smoke on her tongue and the delicious scent of it in her nostrils. She
held it inside for a long time. So long that there was hardly anything left
to exhale. Then she inhaled deeply again, and released this smoke sooner, so
that she could release a slow, thick cloud to linger about her head, and then
lick and sip at that smoke, sucking it back in with tiny tastes before she
drew on the burning Steampunk again.

The problem had always been that the poisons built up too fast in her lovers
and her countermeasures couldn't keep up with her toxic outputs. Even with
some of the toxin-clearing and cell-cleansing nanomachines that Nicoletta had
injected into more recent lovers, nothing helped.

So they had decided that in exchange for Toxine's help - the loan of her
powers for a while in Nicoletta's grand plans - Toxine would get a superhero
to be her lover. Someone who could endure her toxins but still be bent to her
will by the pheromones she sweated and breathed and the even more powerful
ones she could create when she wished, substances that could make a man her
slave. Or a woman, she supposed, if she ever developed such tendencies.

Nicoletta had made many suggestions: superheroes with regenerative powers
that would allow them to heal as fast or faster than she poisoned them or
heroes with no ability to breathe or absorb toxins to begin with. But in
every case, they either didn't appeal to Toxine, or they might also prove
resistant to her more pleasurable and controlling neurochemicals.

Toxine sucked on the Steampunk cigarette again, and smiled to herself. She
smoked at least 60 of these a day now, and it never got old. She wondered
sometimes if Nicoletta ever thought about slipping anything into her via
these cigarettes, as she did with so many other of her special smokes and so
many of the people who worked for her. But Toxine doubted it. Nicoletta
wasn't into tricking family members and to Nicoletta, a cousin was as dear as
a brother or sister. 

Also, she realized, Nicoletta probably suspected that Toxine could analyze
and categorize every substance in them thanks to her new powers and the vast
chemical and biochemical knowledge she had gained in university. Even though
she had never revealed that aspect of her powers to Nicoletta. Just to be on
the safe side.

But maybe I should suggest that Nicoletta add something to these Steampunks,
Toxine thought, maybe something to give me delicious feelings throughout my
body. Something that perhaps might, through second-hand smoke, also augment
the effect of my pheromones. Yes, I will have to suggest that. Nicoletta will
enjoy the chance to make these cigarettes even more special.

From the short list of most likely heroes to abduct and make into Toxine's
sex toy for life - well, hopefully for life - The Flash was Toxine's final
pick. For one thing, he had a luscious body, muscled and lean, with abs to
die for and delicious calves and thighs. His super-speed could make for some
vigorous love sessions, and Toxine's malleable body wouldn't be harmed by the
friction or force of such activity.

More importantly, though, his metabolic system was amped up to accommodate
his heightened reflexes and immense speed. That meant his body could not only
cycle her toxins out of his blood and tissues quickly, but also move her
counter-agents through his system faster to more effectively neutralize the
poisonous and cancerous substances. Moreover, she and Nicoletta were 90%
certain that because of the wear and tear of friction from his super-speed,
his body must have at least some heightened tissue regeneration. With
Nicoletta's nanomachines populating his body to help out, modified to work as
fast as his body could, he should be virtually immune to harm from her.

She drew more slowly on her Steampunk cigarette, ruminating, and considered
her options and challenges yet to come. And then exhaling the smoke as if
shedding herself of her anxieties at the same time - carried away on a
fragrant, magical, intoxicating cloud.

That only left the problem of controlling him, since her pheromones and
aphrodisiacs would also cycle quickly through his system. But Nicoletta said
she was close to producing some nanobots that could colonize his brain and
central nervous system and make him more suggestible to Toxine's voice.

Toxine had a wicked and filthy idea that she hadn't shared yet with Nicoletta
that she was sure would really cement her control on The Flash.

But first, she would have to help Nicoletta subdue some other heroes.

A small price to pay; an acceptable delay.

She took a drag on her cigarette, then another, a third and fourth, and
finally, a fifth, her deepest yet, without yet exhaling. She let the smoke
fill her lungs; expanded them a bit beyond their normal size to accommodate
it all, and then let it all pour slowly, thickly, from her nose and mouth. A
sluggish, dense, beautiful mantle about her. A tobacco-perfumed canopy to
hover above her.

Toxine's pussy was becoming hot now, wet, dripping. She felt it spurt - yet
another one of the interesting effects of the changes wrought on her in the
Cauldron at Lab Unit 12. And her nipples were turgid now as well, and also
dripping and squirting just a little. 

Soon, my babies, my little sexy bits, we will get to avail ourselves of
Flash's body, over and over again. Forever and ever, she thought.

In the meantime, hers was a body demanding release. She slipped a finger into
her sex, past the wet, drooling entrance to her, and swelled the end of it
into a bulb shape to fill her up inside and pulse deliciously.  It then
sprouted little nubbins on the rest of her finger to rub at her labia and
clit. She began to ride her finger, wishing for a moment that she could make
more complex shapes, but was satisfied for now. 

Oh, my dear soon to be love-slave superhero, she moaned silently in her head
as she panted and gasped out loud as well. Oh, my Flash. I have such things
to do to you, to teach you, to have you use on me and to attach to you.
Things to have you do to me. Soooon my love, soon. 

* * *

Lois could remember the sounds of the stylist's shears, the joys of listening
to Colleen praise her and make small talk, the discussion of smoking and how
foolish it was to quit for other people, the recommendation that Persuasion
could make everything better, the insistence that if she should take up
smoking again Lois should really consider Glorianas. She also remembered the
gentle sweep of a brush through her hair, the perfumed droplets from the
mister that Colleen used to re-wet her hair, the feel of warm air from a blow
dryer, Colleen's voice, Colleen's perfume, and Colleen's smoke, so delicious
and twice freshened by smoke breaks during that wonderful, methodical,
thorough styling.

But Lois couldn't remember how she had gotten into this room. It seemed to be
for massages and other small-scale spa treatments. When had she gotten here?
Where was the masseuse? Why hadn't she left the salon yet? She hadn't made an
appointment for a massage, just a quick lunch trip to get a style...

...and she remembered, in wispy snippets of recollection, that Colleen had
suggested a spa treatment. She had made it sound so nice. She had brought
Lois a phone so she could call the office. So she could say she was feeling
sick and wouldn't be back today.

But I never lie about being sick, unless I'm off to cover some story that
Perry wants to keep me away from because he's getting pressure from the
publisher, Lois thought. That's not like me. Why would I do that just for a
massage?

Why am I taking advice from a hairdresser I hardly even know? She wondered.

And then she realized there was a smoldering cigarette between her fingers.
She was belly down on a massage table, naked in a warm, sweet-scented room,
and there was a table in front of her, with an open pack of those new
Gloriana cigarettes, an ashtray with a spent butt already crushed out in it.

I'm smoking, Lois realized, reminded all the more of that fact as she felt
the filter against her lips, not even realizing she had lifted it there. But
it smelled so good, and the taste of it was thick on her tongue, and the
Persuasion perfume--yes, she had gotten a sample spray of it from Colleen,
hadn't she?--was mixing so well with the cigarette smoke, just like Colleen
had told her it would...

She was taking a strong, deep, smooth pull on the cigarette before she could
think about it, before she could stop herself, and then exhaling it gently,
watching the smoke spread across the table in front of her and dissipate into
the air and swirl around her so that she could re-smell it, re-breathe it.

She took another drag and sighed, moaned, and felt the stirrings in her sex
again.

The door opened, and in walked a woman with auburn hair and stylish glasses,
the one she had seen in front of the salon days before who had kissed that
blonde woman.

Oh God, Lois thought, she has beautiful lips. Will I get to kiss them, too?

She couldn't imagine why she had that thought. But now she also couldn't
imagine leaving, either.

And now the blonde woman she remembered from that other day was following the
first woman in, Mario behind her, and Colleen behind him. Lois felt so very
happy to be naked in front of all of them. Naked and smelling so nice and
wreathed in the smoke of a Gloriana.

"Lois Lane," said the auburn-haired woman, "I am the owner of this salon. You
are a most special guest. We are all going to touch you in ways that will
make you feel so much better. Especially me, dear one. Especially me."

Lois was so happy when everyone there pulled out cigarettes, lit them, and
filled the room with smoke that smelled so much better and made her juice up
thanks to the Persuasion perfume.

Before long, they were all touching her, kissing her, and licking her. They
were smoking with her and for her and telling her what she needed to believe,
reminding her who her mistress was. Telling her what a good girl she was.

She lost count of the number of orgasms she had over the next three hours.
But it wouldn't matter anyway, as she wasn't allowed to remember any of them
after she was sent out of the spa and back to her apartment.

She did remember, though, how nice it was to be pampered at Fantasia Luxe,
and how beautiful she felt. She remembered to buy some Persuasion before she
left - two bottles.

She also remembered that she was a smoker now, and bought a carton of
Glorianas on the way home.

* * *

Diana was spending a lot of time recently in Metropolis. She couldn't quite
say why, just a feeling. Wonder Woman wasn't really needed here with Superman
around, but still, perhaps it was a premonition, some subtle nudge from the
Olympian gods, perhaps, that she needed to be here? Or something else?

She lingered. Here and there she would stop a crime, but she wasn't really
here to do Superman's job for him in this city.

She was here for something that would happen soon. She was sure of it. She
just needed to be prepared and she was equally certain that her close friend
Kal-El, known to the world as Superman and to his co-workers as Clark Kent,
was going to need her help.

But for what?

Or against whom?

So Wonder Woman simply wandered, and waited.

And worried.

* * *

"I haven't noticed anything, Hal," Batman told Green Lantern in the Justice
League watchtower that orbited Earth. "To be honest, my sights are fixed on
Gotham, mostly, and on Bludhaven to a lesser extent, but I just haven't
noticed any overall uptick in metahuman activity. It really seems to be
concentrated in Metropolis, with a much more minor blip in Flash's territory
as well."

"It nags at me somehow," Green Lantern told Batman. "Something is going on.
Something is brewing. But there's no place to focus on."

"So this is the League's watchtower. We watch," said Batman darkly. "If we're
fortunate or smart, we'll see it coming. If not, we'll see the aftermath, and
we'll react."

"Always the pragmatist, eh, Bruce?" Green Lantern muttered.

"Not much more than you, Hal," he answered. "You're a military man, and a
test pilot. You may have a bit of rogue and thrill-seeker in you, but you're
by-the-book in the end, just like me only without the dark theatrics. You
know it's the only thing we can do. Watch."

"And wait," Green Lantern said.

"Exactly."

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