Nightwing: The Feraks of Life (Patreon)

1821 Chord Street was a condemned building, halfway overrun by vegetation from the equally dilapidated vacant lot next door. That only made it more appealing to Poison Ivy, though. The greenhouse on the roof had been restored to perfect working order. It burst with greenness.

Dick scanned it through his mask’s magnification scope. No sign of Ivy, or of Harley, although their parole officer had them living together. But the place was more or less swarming with Feraks. This variant could’ve passed for Chippendale’s dancers—tall, fit, and naked except for loincloths.

Dick wondered if that was some of Ivy’s feminist antipathy shining through or if she just didn’t want to risk her parole on public indecency charges. Either one—the canniness or the misanthropy—seemed Ivy’s style. And having a passel of hunky men at her beck and call seemed right up Harley’s alley. No doubt they were as much servitors as henchmen. It wasn’t like Gotham had a law against creating plant-creature minions that could all pose for Playgirl.

Dick took his finger off the side of his domino mask, cutting out the magnification effect. Taking on both Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy—even Dick wished he had Bruce with him on this one. But Bruce was off running down the League of Assassins. That was why he’d put Dick after Ivy in the first place; he’d found evidence that Ra’s could be working with Ivy and needed whatever intelligence Dick could gather on Ivy’s end of the operation.

The problem being how to get it. Dick dialed up his magnification scope again, this time with a laser mic shooting from a ‘third eye’ installed in his mask. As expected, the Feraks were making no conversation, but Dick kept his ears peeled anyway.

He could easily break in, but he didn’t like his chances of going up against Harley, Ivy, and an army of Feraks. It’d be one hell of a mess if he kicked off a fight, and for the time being, the two villainesses were playing nice. Maybe he was being too sweet for his own good, but Dick didn’t want to ruin it. He knew how poorly a misunderstanding could go over if the two were legitimately trying to go straight.

Add to that the new Police Commissioner Akins and how fraught he had relations between GCPD and the Bats. The last thing the situation needed was for it to seem like Nightwing was recklessly provoking or persecuting the two women; in the eyes of the law, they were more legitimate than a bunch of vigilantes.

So how was he supposed to get in there and check the place out without raising any alarms or starting any fights? To take down Harley and Ivy, he’d need to go in heavy, with Damian and Cass at least backing him up. But if he wanted to go unnoticed, it’d be best for him to sneak in alone, which meant he was most likely dead meat if he was detected.

“Hail Ivy!”

Dick was startled out of his reverie. He refocused on the building, now seeing through the windows that two of the Feraks had happened to cross each other’s paths.

“Hail Ivy!” a second voice came—Dick guessed in reply to the first Ferak that had spoken. A call and response, and not terribly sophisticated. Dick further supposed that more work had gone into these Feraks’ six-packs than their gray matter.

In fact… he wondered what would’ve happened without the “Hail Ivy”? Would the Feraks have attacked each other, both thinking the other was an intruder? They were plants, after all—even Ivy’s mad science had to have limits. And there was a reason they called people with no brain activity ‘vegetables.’

Dick was starting to get an idea. It seemed too crazy to work. It also seemed like the kind of thing Bruce wouldn’t do in a million years, which meant it would be perfect for him.

Ten minutes later, Dick had stashed his costume and stolen a tablecloth off a nearby clothesline, leaving a twenty on the clothespin instead. He doubted they’d want it back after he used it as a loincloth. Then again, if people believed them about Nightwing using it, it might fetch a good price on eBay—Dick tried not to think what some hypothetical buyer would use it for.

Naked except for the loincloth and somewhat wishing he didn’t go commando in his costume, Dick simply strolled right into the building. He’d concealed a micro-camera in his hair. Babs razzed him about growing it out, but he’d like to see someone with a shaved head manage this.

Moment of truth: a Ferak waited ahead. Dick walked up to him… it?... with the same steady, stiffened motion as all the Feraks walked with. “Hail Ivy!” he called affectlessly.

“Hail Ivy!” the Ferak replied without emotion, and let him go right by.

Yup. Crazy enough to work. And people wondered why anyone would ever stay in Gotham.

Dick made his way through the lair, maddeningly slow with him keeping up the Frankenstein act, but he’d rather have a slow, peaceful resolution then be thrown through a wall really quick. Maybe he was maturing.

He searched the lair room by room, turning up the madcap storage system he might’ve expected of Harley, but precious little of Ivy’s presence. It’d probably be all grouped together somewhere off-limits to Harley. Dick kept searching. One Post-It note linking Ivy to Ra’s was all he needed…

***

Harley knew she wasn’t supposed to go into Ivy’s lab, not without supervision. Ivy didn’t even get angry at her anymore. She got sadistic. Giving Harley long lectures about respecting other people’s boundaries and showing love for people by loving what they cared about. Torture! She knew Harley would love getting tied up or spanked or whipped or sodomized, but listening to Ivy go on for minutes about how taking other people’s interests seriously was a love language… they never should’ve gone to couples counseling.

But Ivy was in the lab. Who else would be in there? So Harley felt free to saunter right in to talk to Ivy, find out what she was doing, find that it was too advanced for her, and then try and get Ivy to do something fun instead.

What she found instead was a Ferak. A good-looking Ferak. Ivy had outdone herself with this one. Harley would’ve loved to spend all day looking at his bare chest with its tiny pink nipples on the smooth bronze tan, the way his pulse beat in his neck, the raven darkness of his hair and long eyelashes. And what a cock he had on him! Something was beating against the inside of his loincloth with every step he took and it wasn’t a tail, Harley knew that much. Although a Ferak with a tail would be fun. She should talk to Ivy about that…

“Hey, buster, what’re you doing in Ivy’s private things?” Harley asked.

The Ferak snapped to attention, looking at her. “Hail Ivy!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah—whacha doing in here? Even I’m not allowed in here!”

“Mistress Ivy sent me to get her… clipboard,” the Ferak replied, stony-faced.

“Mistress Ivy, huh?” Harley folded her arms suspiciously—before setting them down at her sides. “Red really is getting fulla herself. Guess she’s entitled to, with boobs like she has. How long do you think it’ll take her to send another a’you guys if you don’t get back?”

“I don’t know, Mistress Quinn.”

Harley beamed. She liked that. “That’d be nice—having two of youse at once… course, maybe I should make sure I can handle one’a you first.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” the Ferak said, looking at her from under his long, dark eyelashes.

“That’s the kinda attitude I like in an employee!” Harley flounced closer to him, doing a handspring in the middle of her frolicking skips. “So, what’s your name, anyway?”

“We… don’t have names, Mistress.”

“Aw, that’s no fun! Let’s call you, ummm… Dick. Sound good?”

Dick the Ferak coughed. “Seems apropos.”

“Apropos! Red’s getting better at you guys all the time! Pretty soon you’ll be able to unclog my toilet for me! That’ll be handy.” Dick grimaced; Harley scowled at him. “You coppin’ an attitude with me, Dickie? That’s a bold move, considerin’ I don’t even know whether you’re worthy to be called Dick…”

She slipped her fingertip up along his well-sculpted leg and under the hem of his loincloth. Dick trembled a little to feel her fingernail slide over his scrotum, then up into his pubic hair, barely circumventing his prick. He reciprocated, reaching out to tuck his hand into the backpocket of Harley’s jean shorts, along the ripe curve of her ass. He squeezed the sumptuous flesh.

“Ooh… guess Ivy put a little of herself in you, huh? She loves my big ass too! Loves seeing how far she can get a vine into it!”

His thick cock began to stiffen. It rose against the hanging loincloth. Dick felt Harley’s fingernails scratch gently at his balls, all while his shaft swelled with hot, passionate blood. He gasped harshly—Harley’s fingertips came up off his balls to slide over the root of his manhood. Her own breath grew fast and ragged; she was as aroused by the feel of his hard cock as Dick had been to hear about Ivy’s love for her ass.

Harley was wearing only a Chicago Bulls jersey—red and black—and her skimpy jean shorts. Coarse black cunt hair peeked out from under the low-slung waistband. Dick could even see a hint of pink through her pubic thatch. Her breasts peeked out at him the same way, showing along the gaping armholes and low-hanging neckline of the oversized jersey, which dangled halfway down her thighs when not hung up in one way or another. Not to mention he could easily see her hard nipples thrusting out through the thin material.

“Aww, gee—you’re making me all nostalgic. Mistah J would’ve raped me by now. Guess I gotta tell you what t’ do to me.”

Dick nodded tightly.

Harley sighed. “I should talk to Red about that. It’d be kinda fun, having a stud like you walkin’ around, just putting it in me whenever that big prick felt like it.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Dick said, his voice strained. It struck him as being fun too.

“First things firstie. Get that tablecloth off and lemme see ya!”

Dick hesitated a moment, wondering if Harley had realized it really was a tablecloth, then he unknotted the ‘loincloth’ and let it fall away. Unrestrained by the relatively tight confines of the cloth, Dick’s member shot up from his loins, starting to reach its full length.

“Oh my gawd—is that thing gettin’ bigger?” Harley gaped. “Maybe I should suck on it some, just to see how big it gets before I commit to lettin’ it be my OB-GYN.”

Dick groaned a little, a dot of precum running from his glanshole.

“Nah, not yet, I wanna look at you more. Turn around and show me whacha Ivy gave ya!”

Dick did as she said, at first awkwardly, then making a performance of showing off to Harley. He could see how it was getting to her and he liked the way it was getting to her.

Harley leaned back against one of the lab tables, her legs spread apart now, and she reached down into her shorts. Her fingers stroked her clit, opened up the delicate folds of her cunt while her eyes ate Dick up.

She drank in the lovely softness of his face, his broad shoulders and bulging chest. The narrow power of his waist and slight but juicy swell of his ass. Then, of course, the mighty erection that rose from between his legs, surging with strength until it stood as lengthy and as stiff as a cock could get. The knob was hard and gleaming, the slit open, a pearl of clear precum dripping temptingly out.

Harley bit her lip and ran her fingertip faster and faster around the little hill of her clitoris. Her other hand joined the first inside her shorts, working two of her fingers into the opening. More of the heat of the naked man washed into her and more of her arousal trickled out. She squirmed her tight little hips around, panting for Dick. Teasing herself as well as him.

Inside, she felt hot, her core aching with an emptiness, needing his manhood. She felt that hunger in every part of her body. Her tongue licked out over her soft lips. Her nipples were so tautly swollen that the brush of the soft jersey against them was torturous. Her clit pulsated as hard as she stroked it. And as good as her passionate little body felt, her pussy felt terribly empty, so ready for him to fill her up and fuck her up.

“Come to momma,” she told him, crooking her fingers at him.

As horny as she was, Harley had nothing on Dick. The building’s cool air felt like a blowtorch on his bare skin, especially on his cock, which felt like it’d been pulled fresh from a forge. It burned, it seethed, it dripped with wanting to be inside of Harley’s hot cunt. Dick could feel his balls squeezed up tight at the base of his cock, ready with a huge load to give to Harley, while his cockhead trembled so hard he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold off long, inside Harley or out of her.