Toxic, Part 7

(by Smokedawg, 17 December 2009)


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Toxic, Part 7
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 1: 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."

NOTE 2: The more this story goes on, the more I am, of course, messing with
DC continuity. Although most of this takes place in a relatively recent part
of DC superhero history (late 2009/early 2010), I've picked some things from
earlier points in the timelines and mixed and matched a bit. We'll just call
it artistic license instead of laziness, shall we?

----------------------------------------------

Nicoletta Teena was already there, waiting for her, so Lois Lane had plenty
of time to get a good look at her as she slowly approached the table. Even
sitting down, it was clear that the woman was tall, probably only an inch or
two under six feet. She looked like a model, frankly, though her skin was
darker than most of the top runway and magazine divas would have boasted - a
dusky olive hue that suggested Mediterranean ancestry of some sort. Turkish?
Greek? Armenian? Lois couldn't be sure, but those were her top guesses. The
woman's hair was fairly long, hanging some six or eight inches or so below
her shoulder, a vision of dark waves and long, loose curls that was
complemented by a deep, glossy set of lips the color of a heady cabernet
sauvignon wine. Her body was athletic, lean and strong but not overly
muscled.

The woman's headshot on the corporate web site doesn't do her justice, Lois
thought, wondering why she was so fixated on her physical appearance. She
knew, however, why she was so fixated on the smoldering cigarette in
Nicoletta's finger; after all, the woman's Gloriana cigarettes at the very
least seemed implicated in the recent suspicious happenings.

But as she approached, Lois' convictions about why she was so focused on the
cigarette and the smoke spilling slowly and softly from the end of it - and
from between Nicoletta's gorgeous lips - started to get fuzzy. No longer was
she simply fixated on the cigarette as a totem of wrongdoing somehow, but as
something alluring and attractive. In fact, Lois was starting to feel
erotically charged, and shook her head to clear it. For a moment, she
wondered if she should flee, but the encounter seemed not only necessary but
absolutely inevitable now.

"Ms. Lane," Nicoletta said, rising from her chair in the seating area outside
the café where they were meeting, and holding out her hand to shake. A few
stray little plumes of smoke puffed from her lips as she spoke.

Lois took the hand. A soft hand. A beautiful, long-nailed hand, so
wonderfully manicured, and she shook it, then collected her senses again, and
said, "Dr. Teena. Very nice to meet you. Shall we sit?"

Meeting outside of the Teena International building had been Lois' primary
concern, as she couldn't be sure that the CEO of the company, now sitting
before her, might be a threat, and meeting well off of the woman's home
ground was safer. Although Nicoletta had initially expressed surprise that
Lois would want to meet outside the company, she relented readily enough, and
suggested a café midway between her building and the Daily Planet building.

What Lois hadn't expected was that it would be a smoker's café - one of the
small percentage of establishments free of non-smoking laws in Metropolis,
since it was a tobacco shop primarily, and a café and bar secondarily. Not
only was Nicoletta smoking, but so were most of the patrons around them, and
even though they were in the outdoor seating area, the effect was to make
Lois want a cigarette very badly herself. But it seemed important to resist
the urge; to appear as if she were a non-smoker, in case there was something
insidious about the Millennium Tobacco-produced cigarettes like the
Glorianas.

The less Nicoletta Teena knows about me, the better, Lois thought.

Still, Lois was acutely aware of the pack of Capri cigarettes in her purse,
and she felt almost like they were whispering to her and begging to be sucked
to life. Begging to fill her lungs. Begging to satisfy her.

"Are you all right, Ms. Lane?" Nicoletta asked, leaning forward and brushing
one hand through her hair as she maneuvered it back over her shoulder.
Through the haze of delicious smoke, Lois smelled a wonderful perfume emanate
from this woman at that little flip of the hair; something that made the very
pleasant Persuasion perfume seem mediocre by comparison.

"I'm fine; just a lot of smoke."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Ms. Lane, I am an unrepentant appreciator of tobacco
products, and it would have been very hard for me to get through this
interview without my cigarettes," she said. "I'm supposing you wouldn't know
how that feels."

"Actually, I do, since I smoked a long time ago," Lois said, surprised that
she would even blurt out that much but holding back the fact that she smoked
now, too. 

"Ms. Lane, I don't know what you have to be ashamed of, but I can see the
corner of a pack peeking out from your purse," Nicoletta said, smiling
slightly as she drew more smoke into her chest. "You're among friends, or
fellow smokers, at any rate."

"I'm exercising willpower."

"Why?"

"Pardon me?" Lois asked.

"Your phrasing confirms that you are a smoker. We are at a place where you
can smoke. Why would you refrain? After all, you have a recorder, so I doubt
you'll jot down many notes. Surely you can spare a hand for something so
enjoyable." Nicoletta raised her eyebrows a bit as she slowly smoked, as if
to invite a retort. She wasn't disappointed.

"Maybe I don't find it enjoyable. Maybe I only have them because of stress,"
Lois said, weakly, but tried to put conviction in her voice. She suddenly
realized that something about Nicoletta was very familiar. Her face and
bearing seemed like something she had seen recently, but she couldn't
pinpoint what or where.

"More's the pity," Nicoletta said, continuing to smoke. 

Lois took the slight lapse in conversation to examine Nicoletta's smoking,
ashamed that she was so fascinated, and she noted that the cigarette itself
was quite unfamiliar, with a silky, silvery-pink filter and a pale brown
shaft. The pack in front of her adversary was also unfamiliar, though with a
very attractive design and a name that was, oddly, spelled with
hieroglyphics. The name seemed to be printed in English, too, underneath, but
too small to read from this distance.

"So, you don't even smoke your own company's cigarettes?" Lois asked, pulling
a Capri out of her own pack without realizing it and then, after noticing it,
deciding it really was silly not to light up, so she did. Her first exhale
felt and sounded to her own ears more like a sigh of sexual arousal, and she
hoped that Nicoletta wouldn't pick up on that.

"This actually is produced by one of our subsidiaries, Millennium Tobacco.
It's a private blend. One of the benefits of being the boss. I have some
friends who also get to have access, but it's not available to the mass
market. I gave these cigarettes the name Arcana. I might yet market them to
specialty and boutique-style shops, but I'm not certain."

"Dr. Teena, I feel that I should get to the point. I don't have time to play
games, and I hope you don't have any interest in playing any."

"Ms. Lane, I do enjoy many games, so I can't promise you anything, but I will
try to play nice," Nicoletta responded, following up with a snap inhale, and
a welcoming smile, one that might even be called vaguely seductive.

"I have reason to suspect that Teena International, either knowingly or
unknowingly, is being used to perpetrate some kind of plot that, at the very
least, is behind the disappearance of Superman. I've found out all that I can
without going straight to the source so, frankly, that's what I'm doing now.
I'm confronting you, and hoping to find answers, before the Justice League or
someone else has to be brought in to do so."

"That's all very bold, Ms. Lane. What if I were the villain in this scenario
you've cooked up?"

"I tend to doubt you'd harm me in a public place," Lois responded. "Besides,
I've spoken more bluntly to Lex Luthor, and he's known to be dangerous
goods."

"Touché," Nicoletta said, taking a thoughtful and long drag on her cigarette
and then blowing a cloud that gathered in the air around them, and drifted up
into the umbrella protruding from the center of their bistro table. "Of
course it would not be a surprise for you to find that I have negative
feelings toward Superman, given his crippling of my father, but motive alone
doesn't make me guilty."

"A great many people are smoking one of your brands, Gloriana, here in
Metropolis," Lois said. "That began a short while before Superman
disappeared. And while I haven't been able to make a connection, yet, I think
your company owns a salon that opened near where I work which sells a perfume
that coincidentally seems to go very well with smoking, and it opened up a
little while before the smoking rates went up."

At that moment, Lois realized that the salon somehow connected to her
familiarity with Nicoletta Teena. The two were somehow linked. Had she seen
her there as a customer? 

"You know, Ms. Lane," Nicoletta said, smoke punctuating her words, "someone
else recently brought up the sudden local popularity of Gloriana cigarettes.
But doesn't owning a salon seem a bit below the lofty ambitions of a global
company like mine?"

"Not if the Persuasion perfume sold there somehow addicts people to
Glorianas," Lois shot back, inhaling smoke from her own cigarette, and
blowing a stream into the air with a confident and challenging air.

Nicoletta leaned forward slightly, lightly licking her moist and richly hued
lips, making Lois' hips squirm a bit; making her feel a little twinge down
below. "Ms. Lane, are you saying I somehow defeated Superman with tobacco
smoke and perfume?"

Sniffing in slight derision, but also inhaling a bit more of Nicoletta's
smoke in doing so, and realizing how very tasty it smelled, Lois responded,
"I believe they are part of a plan, not the whole plan. I just don't know
how, and I don't know whether you're responsible or if your company is being
used. But I would think if you were innocent, you might want to work with me,
given that you're the owner..."

Owner.

Lois realized this woman looked very much like the owner of the Fantasia Luxe
salon. She tried to imagine her with auburn hair, blue eyes, glasses and
lighter skin. Could she be a relative? Could she have powdered her skin to be
lighter, used colored contact lenses, and otherwise disguised herself to be
the owner? If so, why?

"And if I were guilty, I might just make you sit here and listen to my
nefarious plans and then spirit you away where no one will find you,"
Nicoletta said in a deep, rolling purr that was accompanied by exquisite,
fragrant smoke, straight into Lois' face.

So wonderful and purely decadent. So much better than this pathetic Capri I'm
smoking, Lois thought.

"Just sit still, and listen, and be content to breathe the smoky air,"
Nicoletta said softly. "That's what I would want my lovely prey to do."

Lois found herself wanting nothing more than to sit and listen. To breathe
and taste. To...

"What is in your cigarette?" Lois whispered, realizing that her panties were
wet and sticky, and her legs entirely unwilling to partake of any more
movement than what was necessary to provide friction to enflame her flesh
even more. "What have you put in it?"

"There are many things in my cigarette, Lois," Nicoletta said. "Six different
premium tobaccos, a hint of clove, traces of vanilla and cinnamon, a tiny bit
of cannabis and, oh, a chemical that renders you extremely suggestible."

"You need to let me go free," Lois said instantly, and as firmly as she
could, added: "Right now."

"How adorable, Lois. And also how intuitive and quick-thinking of you,"
Nicoletta said, putting soothing and seductive notes into her words. "I tell
you there is something in them that makes a person suggestible and you
assume, since I'm breathing the smoke too, that you can give yourself an
escape by playing on my suggestibility before I entirely ensnare you."

"Yes," Lois whimpered, her pussy throbbing. "Let me go."

"Except that the only thing in this cigarette to which I am not mostly or
entirely immune is the nicotine, which I do so love," Nicoletta said. "The
arousal chemicals in the cigarette affect me slightly, because I am allowing
them through, just a little. But frankly, capturing you in my smoky web would
be enough to make me quite aroused. There is also a chemical in the smoke
that slightly subverts fight-or-flight instincts in the human brain, and that
will also keep you fairly complacent."

"You aren't being very subtle, or quiet," Lois noted. "So many people close
enough to hear, but not close enough to breathe much of your smoke. There's
still..."

"No hope for your escape," Nicoletta finished, breathing deep of her tainted
and drugged smoke, leaning forward, and shamelessly kissing Lois and filling
her mouth with smoke. "Inhale," Nicoletta said quietly as she just barely
disengaged from the kiss.

Lois did, and then slowly exhaled as the kiss continued for a few more
moments and Nicoletta then sat back down, licking her lips and smiling at the
enthralled reporter before her.

"Everyone seated outside here is in my employ, Lois," Nicoletta said,
slipping one foot from a frightfully expensive high-heeled shoe and tracing
lazy circles between Lois' thighs under the table with her toes wrapped in a
sheer stocking, while filling the air between them with dense, sluggish waves
of smoke. "In a few minutes, you will quietly and gratefully accompany one of
them to the back of my limousine, where I will join you to conduct you to my
lair, and be reunited with your husband. In a manner of speaking, anyway."

* * *

Hal Jordan sat in a chair in a very well-appointed little apartment, dozens
of floors up from street level, that was clearly intended for him since every
piece of clothing in it was precisely his size. He had considered many times
in the past day that he could probably easily leave the place...
theoretically, at least... given that there was only one petite, attractive,
unarmed woman sitting near the door, guarding it from inside the apartment.

However, he hadn't once attempted to do so, and it had nothing to do with
worry about who might be outside the door, nor with concern about the absence
of his power ring and thus the entirety of his super-powers.

The woman sitting there, and the other two women who had taken shifts at that
post, had chain-smoked, and while Hal wasn't normally very fond of cigarette
smoke, he had to admit that this smoke smelled sweet, like wildflowers, with
just a hint of the forest in it; something that hinted at evergreens and
recent rain. He didn't complain, and he couldn't work up the ambition to
leave.

He had little doubt that the smoke was to blame for that, and found it
disconcerting - though, strangely, not emotionally disturbing - to know the
source of his complacency and yet be entirely unconcerned about it.

I should be thinking of ways to escape, and all I can think about is how nice
it is to stay and be wrapped in smoke, the man known as Green Lantern
thought. Fortunately, whomever my host is, he or she has stocked the place
well with decent books and a well-loaded DVD cabinet.

The door to the apartment opened, and in walked a statuesque woman with long,
dark hair. Green Lantern immediately recognized her as the opponent who had
bested him with her smoke-like energy-matter constructs and the real smoke
she had blown in his face. He blushed just a bit and felt his cock stir at
the memory of being smoked and kissed into submission.

I suppose it's better than being beaten senseless, he considered, and simply
watched the new visitor, saying nothing that might tip his hand, but
suspecting that this was not only his vanquisher in combat, but also his
"host."

"Good evening, Mr. Jordan. May I call you Hal?" Nicoletta asked.

"Why not?" he responded. "What should I call you?"

"Well, since I'm not in costume as Nicotina, just call me Nicoletta. I'm the
CEO of Teena International, and I am honored to call you my guest."

"I'm not entirely sure that it's in your best interests to reveal your secret
identity to an enemy," Hal pointed out dryly.

Nicoletta sat in a nearby chair, and pulled out an all-white cigarette of
some brand he didn't recognize, and lit it. "Hal, I don't consider you an
enemy. I consider you a guest, and a long-term one. And hopefully more than
that. To be honest, I am actually an appreciator of your work... and your
various assets."

"My power ring, for example."

Nicoletta smiled, and blew a tight stream of smoke toward him. He felt his
penis harden even more, and felt his heart began to race a bit. 

"No, Hal. I was referring to your tall, fit body, handsome face and quality
character," she answered. "The power ring is useful, but I don't really need
it in my direct service. I'm sure it will be used thus at some point, and I
do look forward to having your protection and power at my side, but that's
not really the point of all this."

"You've abducted me to seduce me? Why do I find that a bit hard to believe?"

"Because you're assuming I'm a villain. And in some senses, as the person who
abducted Superman, I suppose you'd have some justification in labeling me so.
But I'm not what you think, and you'll learn that in time as you come around
to my way of thinking on your own, in time."

Hal regarded the smoke twisting around her, and spreading toward him more and
more, along with the ambient smoke that had been a constant companion before
her visit, and shook his head, letting out a small sigh. "On my own? Yeah,
right. As long as I come to the decision while under the power of smoke that
makes me complacent, pliable, aroused, and who knows what else. That hardly
seems like an honest approach."

Nicoletta smiled and laughed. "Hal, you need to look at this from a different
angle. Yes, I seek to compromise your judgment a bit. I'm dealing with a
superhero, and one with a powerful will, or you wouldn't be able to use that
power ring so effectively, so I do need an edge. But really, in any
relationship you've had, any date you've been on, isn't that what the
perfume, makeup, demeanor and clothing is all about? Do you think women do
that for themselves alone? No, they seek to muddle the mind. But in the end,
there is still an honest decision to be made by the man, isn't there?"

"That's a nice little argument, Nicoletta, but a bit convenient for your
purposes."

"To be honest, Hal, if I wanted you a slave - and that is what I'm doing to
Superman, by the way, though I don't intend to actually harm him; I might as
well be honest with you about that - I could do it. I could simply crush your
will and make you a slave, or better yet a sex slave, in hours or days. But
I'm willing to take a bit longer, so that I can convince you that I'm not the
threat you suppose and so that... well... so that I can woo you, Hal Jordan."

As much as he hated to admit it, Hal Jordan found that prospect very
appealing despite his lingering suspicions and, regardless of the smoke and
what affect it might be having on him, he saw something very vulnerable,
awkward, and honest in Nicoletta's eyes as she said those final few words.

* * *

Tonight's mission was the first of the final two that her cousin had gotten
her to agree to, and Toxine was eager to get it done with. 

Two missions. I don't like this kind of thing, but Nicoletta needs my powers,
and it's not like I did anything during that battle with Green Lantern, she
admitted to herself. She's going to give me Flash, and make sure he can
endure me for life. I owe her something.

This time, she would be paired with Annabeth Shields, codename Cigarillo,
though the woman wasn't wearing her powered armor tonight. 

She was, however, carrying an arsenal, albeit one heavy on nicotine, with
other added ingredients, of course.

For her part, Toxine needed no costume and wanted none, and her weapon was
her body.

It hadn't been that hard to get into the back of the Grand Goddess Theatre in
downtown Metropolis, nor a problem to find their way to the dressing room
they sought. Beth's sleep-mist baton had left a trail of limp and dreaming
victims in their wake.

Primarily, the Grand Goddess was the home of the Metropolis Opera Company and
Metropolis Orchestra, but it hosted many other talents as well. Tonight had
been the twelfth in a twenty-show tour by Zatanna.

Although known to be a metahuman with magical abilities, Zatanna had never
been much the crime-fighting sort. If a major crisis were in progress, she'd
help. If some mystical threat loomed, she fought it. But dealing with normal
crimes, even those perpetrated by supervillains, simply wasn't her interest. 

And even though the woman was already wealthy, she had gotten her start in
show business before fully delving into her powers, and she still liked to do
shows as an illusionist, putting her skills in stage magic to work, without
using any real sorcery. 

"I almost feel sorry," Beth said.

"For Zatanna? I find that hard to believe," Toxine said.

"No, for the people who bought tickets for the next eight shows and are going
to have to settle for refunds." At that, Beth knocked on Zatanna's door,
puffing her slim, long cigar to searing intensity, and filling the corridor
with as much smoke as she could. Toxine filtered out the mind-bending
chemicals from Beth's cigar and let the nictone, tar, and other toxins sink
deep into her lungs, feeding her body's need for poisons.

"Hold on, Walt, I'm coming," came a voice from inside the room, and then
Zatanna opened the door. She wasn't wearing her signature top hat, but she
still had her silky-white top, looking half like a tuxedo shirt and half like
a bodice; the short and sexy tuxedo-style coat that showed off her chest so
well; silky black bottoms that were barely more than panties; fishnet-style
black stockings; and high black patent leather boots. "What do you... oh..."

Seeing two unexpected women simply loitering there, in a totally
unthreatening manner, Zatanna was confused but not concerned, though she did
notice the smoldering cigar.

"Sorry, but there's no smoking allowed back here," Zatanna said, as Beth blew
a lazy, long gray plume of smoke toward the woman through her glistening pink
lips. "City regs. You'll need to... put... uh... you'll..."

Zatanna felt herself growing very warm all over, but particularly between her
thighs, and it was a sudden and disorienting sensation. It felt so nice, and
the woman with the cigar looked so cute -even though Zatanna didn't really
fancy other girls - that she almost didn't register the threat at first.

But then it hit her, that these were likely intruders and had ill intent, and
Zatanna prepared to use her magic, speaking the words of command backward as
was her nature and as was the focus for her sorcery.

The first words would have been "raelc ym daeh" followed by "nommus dniw
mrots" and probably "dnib eseht owt."

But she didn't even get out the "raelc" before the second woman - a
dark-haired, caramel-skinned beauty - suddenly thrust out her arm. It
extended far beyond the reach it should have had, and the hand became much
larger than it had any right to, engulfing much of Zatanna's face. And then
there was the cloyingly sweet and familiar scent of chloroform, which had
been used more than once on her, coming from the very pores of the second
woman's hand, and consciousness quickly fled from Zatanna.

* * * 

"You're doing so well, Superman. You're doing so well, Clark," Nicoletta
cooed. "You've been doing so well that I can almost ignore how angry I am at
you for my father's condition. But not quite."

Superman moaned, surrounded by his mistress' smoke and that of at least one
other woman, who had a short blonde bob and a deliciously tight body. There
might have been another woman behind him smoking too, but it was so hard to
tell, and so hard to think. He was called the Man of Steel by some, but it
was only his cock that was so hard as that right now. His head was muddled,
filled with confusion and desire.

But he couldn't use his hands to touch. He'd been told that often enough. He
must behave. He must behave because Nicoletta told him so, and because she
was the only path to Lois, to release, and to satisfaction. 

"Soon, my pet, we will put you to work," Nicoletta continued, "and soon your
role in my father's redemption will come into play. When that happens, you
may yet have your wife back. Rest easy, though, knowing that even though she
lacks your attention, she has plenty of mine. Lois, at least, will be denied
no orgasms."

Superman sighed, in frustration for himself and happiness for his wife.

* * *

"You've been here well over a week, Hal," Nicoletta said. "Has you opinion of
me softened?"

She was affecting a different air today, dressed in a long black gown and
smoking a long, slender pipe. Green Lantern had not doubt the tobacco in it
was laced with any number of aphrodisiac compounds, but he'd noticed that the
effects had been lessening over time. For a few days now, he had thought he
might be building a tolerance, and that made him feel equal parts desire to
ask Nicoletta to increase the dosage as well as to use the chance to free
himself from her grip.

But then he realized that none of the other smoky effects against him had
lessened, like the ones that kept him from feeling any serious aggression or
desire to flee, and he realized she had purposefully limited the arousal
chemicals.

She really seems to want to seduce me, Hal thought, and I don't know exactly
how to feel about that.

What made it all the more confusing was that Nicoletta had brazenly told him
of most of her plans, both short-term and long-term, and she argued the logic
of them with a maddening conviction. Truth be told, it was hard to find
strong reasons to oppose her logic, though he did debate her. But every time
he came up with a counter-argument, she had another one at least as strong,
if not stronger.

All of this rested uneasily on him, but she seemed uninterested in making him
fight his friends. Instead, she was telling him what roles they might have in
her new vision of the world. What surprised him was how little those roles
differed from what they had been doing already.

But one thing always nagged at him, and despite his respect for her intellect
and his desire for her body, it was that cruel streak in her that held him
back from giving in to her affections. He could see it frustrated her that he
held back from her, and that she desired him and wanted him to feel the same
toward her.

"Why do you want to break my friend so badly?" Hal asked.

"Superman isn't really that close a friend, Hal, and you know it. You're
co-workers, essentially, and you're amiable with one another. But you're not
that close."

"He's a friend enough, and I don't like the idea of someone breaking his
mind."

"I'm not breaking it, Hal. I'm bending it and locking it up to my will,"
Nicoletta said, puffing at the stem of her pipe thoughtfully. "I'm not
looking to destroy him. Humble him, yes. Humiliate him, yes. Use him for my
own ultimate ends, yes. But if he cooperates and those of you whom I most
want and need come to my way of thinking, he'll go back to his wife and the
world will be safer from him."

"Superman is a good man..." Hal began.

"...who crippled my father," Nicoletta finished. "He is quite possibly the
most powerful superhero on this planet, and he is unfettered. That is
unacceptable. And it's a miracle that my father is the only horrible mishap
he has perpetrated... at least that we know of."

"Superman seeks peace above all else."

"And what if he comes to think that such peace can come only by ruling over
everything? Even my level of arrogance doesn't go that far, but his could.
He's nearly a god. And all of you covered for him when he crippled my
father." She paused to take another lungful of smoke from her pipe and blow
some Hal's way, and then raised her hand as she saw him about to speak.
"Look, I understand loyalty. I would have done the same for family or a
valued friend. But that doesn't change the fact he should have paid a price
for what he did to my father, and he didn't, and you were all complicit in
that. How long before something like that happens again, and you do that
again to protect him? How many times before he decides he's entitled?"

"Do you forget the horrible things I did after Coast City was destroyed?"

"You were possessed by Parallax, Hal. There is a difference. And still,
without your ring, you're ultimately a man. As long as Clark Kent is under a
yellow sun, he's a god. And he needs to be controlled."

"By you?" Hal said with reproach in his tone.

"Why not?" she responded, through a cloud of sweet smoke. "Hal, consider
this: Would you give a nuclear missile a brain if you could?"

"Of course not."

"Why?"

"Because what if it had multiple warheads, got mad, and decided to use just
one to decimate a city? Or what if it became suicidal, and did something
similar?"

"That's right, Hal. Yet, that nuclear missile, even psychotic, would have to
ultimately destroy itself. Superman is far more deadly, long term, than any
nuke. I won't take away his mind, but I will tie it down. Is that bad of me,
Hal?" she added coquettishly.

"Yes, Nicoletta, it is bad. I just don't know how bad, or even if I disagree
with you completely."

"Well, would you like to spank me for being bad, Hal?" she said, standing up,
blowing smoke down toward his crotch, and then turning to push her ass toward
his face. She looked back over her shoulder, sighed as his hand began to
stroke her buttocks, and wondered if he really might spank her.

"You know," she added in a sultry whisper, "I think you'd look great smoking
a pipe, dear man. After you're done down there, maybe you can take a taste of
mine. And if you play your cards right, I'll be sucking on a thicker stem
tonight."

* * * 

As Lois headed out for a smoke break, her boss, Perry White, caught up to
her. "How are you holding up, Lois?"

She paused. "I'm doing fine, Perry. Clark will pull through, I'm sure."

"We all think the same."

It was less troublesome in the past couple days for Lois to lie; she was
doing it almost effortlessly now, both to her co-workers and to the Justice
League. It was so easy for her to not even consider revealing her mistress'
plans. It was enough to know why Nicotina was doing this, and it was generous
of her to let her see Clark, and to smoke for him, where he couldn't see her.
He wasn't hurt, and he'd be returned to her.

If all went well.

If Lois did her part, and everyone else did.

If Nicoletta Teena, her delicious, sultry mistress, got her way.

* * *

Out of the First National Bank of Gotham building in downtown Metropolis
strode a seven-foot-tall creature that, aside from its size - and the
eight-inch long razor-sharp claws on each hand -looked every bit like a
child's stuffed teddy bear.

Behind it walked a man in a jester-like costume with purple boots, brown
pants, a yellow shirt, and a black hood and mantle, and he was pulling a red
wagon nearly half the size of a sub-compact car, piled high with bags of
money.

"I suppose you think that Superman's temporary absence means you can do as
you please, Toyman?"

The villain was startled for a moment, but then looked at Wonder Woman,
smiled, and said, "Fluffy, give her a hug."

At that, the gargantuan teddy bear's chest opened to produce a spinning
blade, and it moved with astonishing speed, arms outstretched to take hold of
the Amazon. But Wonder Woman was faster, and she rushed forward and then slid
to the ground, letting her momentum carry her between the legs of the giant
robotic toy and past it, as her hands reached up to grip the fur of its
abdomen and her fingers dug in deep to take hold of the endoskeletal
structure beneath it. With a firm hold, she suddenly stood and used her
strength to pull downward. The bear's torso split open, and the spinning
blade tumbled out and clattered across the ground, spitting sparks against
the concrete of the sidewalk.

Now behind the giant teddy bear, Wonder Woman thrust one fist through the
robot's back and ripped out several pieces of machinery on the assumption -
ultimately correct - that one of them would be the power source. As the thing
tottered and fell to the ground, Toyman used his chance for a clear shot,
pointing an object that looked very much like a giant lollipop - at least
until the rainbow-hued spiral "candy" portion began spinning -  and then
spitting armor-piercing bullets at a rate of five per second. 

Wonder Woman's silver bracelets deflected every one of them as she advanced.
It took Toyman's lollipop gun five seconds to run out of ammunition.

It took only two more seconds for Wonder Woman to reach him.

Another second is all it took for her to strike Toyman unconscious with a
mild backhand blow across his face.

"My premonition to come to Metropolis may have been too late to keep my dear
friend Kal-El from running afoul of an enemy," Wonder Woman said to the limp
body crumpled at her feet, "but I intend to do his work in this city until I
find out what befell him."

* * *

"It's confirmed," Beth told Nicoletta. "Wonder Woman is in Metropolis, and
probably has been for a while. She seems committed to filling in for
Superman."

"How wonderful," Nicoletta said. "We won't have to track her down or move our
operations. Now we need to finish preparing Superman for his part  and get
our team in order.  Then she'll be mine as well. In the meantime, get Sarina
and Justine on that second side project. How is Zatanna looking?"

"Well, it's been slow going, since we're not doing her in-house, and since
I'm not quite as skilled as you are in this."

"I have faith, Beth, and you need to learn."

Beth blushed at the compliment and the trust, and said, "She cancelled her
shows, and we've had ready access to her at her mansion, and no one seems to
have any clue that anything is amiss. I will be confident in her loyalty
after another week with her."

"Make it 10 days to be certain," Nicoletta said. "Extra time with Superman
wouldn't hurt either. I have to make sure he's tied to me so many different
ways that not even a mind controlling telepath can turn him away from me."

"Then that's the way it will be. Ten days, and we'll get moving on your
second prize. Toxine is getting antsier anyway. We need to get her the Flash
soon; that woman is not satisfied with sex toys alone, not even the humanoid
sextomatons you had the robotics people develop. She wants real flesh, and
not even the best imitations are sufficient for her."

"No worries," Nicoletta said. "Justine can hold out that long, and a bit
longer if needed, and the sexualized automatons can be a nice luxury
commercial product to sell to bored and horny rich people later on. Which
reminds me: I never did a personal test with one of them. Fancy a three-way,
my dear?"

"Mmmmmm. Of course, mistress," Beth said. "Any excuse to have a post-coital
cigarette."


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