by Lara Wilson

He felt dizzy. His mind fuzzy. A voice came to him in the darkness, sultry, soft, making him burn.

"Let it work, precious."

He felt desire. Hard. Hot. Heavy.

Fingers, slender and delicate touched him and he convulsed in pleasure.

Awareness returned with a start making Tim gasp and shudder. His eyes flew open, took in his situation, saw where those slender, green fingers were.

Wrapped around his cock, pumping it. Too far gone to stop it, too hot, too...


With an embarrassed cry, he came, spilling over those green fingers tipped with blood red polish.

"Will your seed fallen to the ground sprout, my love?" Ivy cooed in his ear, her hand slowing and bringing him down from the intensity of his orgasm.

"What...have you me?" Tim panted, though he knew. It was almost a joke in the hero set.


Releasing his now limp cock, Ivy began to strip him of his uniform and Tim realized he was bound to a tree by vines, but they weren't outside. There were glass panes over his head and the space was small. A private greenhouse?


His detective's mind began to work, a part listening to her talk about pollen and formulas and young men and...


She smiled up from where she knelt, pulling off his boots. "Can you feel it? Transforming you? Making you mine? That special ingredient."

Something...there was something. It wasn't just sex pollen. It wasn't just sex.

When Ivy rose and tugged his tunic from him, he saw, and he gasped in horror and shook his head in denial and all the time she cooed and petted him until the arousal returned.

"There is something to be said for young men," she said, smiling and shedding leaves, leaving her naked. The warm vegetable scent of her filled Tim's nostrils, his mouth, made his cock ache, his body tremble, and when the vines lowered him to the ground and she straddled his stomach, he didn't protest.

As her fingers splayed across the spreading green veins in his chest, Ivy lifted her hips and sank down on his cock. The scent of her grew with her arousal and Tim fell mindless, hips rising to rut into her, hands rising to squeeze and caress whatever flesh he could find.

After he came a second time, she slid up his body, positioned herself over his mouth, rocked against his face as he tasted her, licked and sucked and drank down her poison.


It was too late when they found him. Barely three days had passed, but it was too late and the changes were irreversible. Tim's mind was mostly gone. What little remained gibbered in terror over what he had become.

The green had spread through him, leaving him pliant and in Ivy's control.

And nearly constantly aroused.

When they found him--father, brother, friends--he was suckling from her breast, drinking her sap, as she fucked him in the warm, rich dirt. As Batman ran towards them, she rose, trembling in her own pleasure, to milk his from him with her hands.

Tim cried out and writhed and came in her hand which she held out to her side, letting the semen drip to the ground.

Around them sprouted their children of the last three days, new seedlings, warm and moist, sheltered by their parents, and whispering amongst themselves.

"Hungry babies?" Ignoring the hands reaching for her, denying the distractions, Ivy cupped her breasts, squeezed milk from them into the open mouths, as Tim petted her, inducing the creation of more eggs.

"Robin?" Dick's voice was hoarse, horrified.

What was left of Tim screamed in his mind for his brother, but what he'd become could only turn languid eyes on him, caught too deeply in Ivy's reproductive cycle to do anything but wait for the next arousal. How many times had he come? How many children had they created?

Ivy was off him, jerked from him by Batman, and Tim heard himself whine, saw his hands-- green like hers--reaching for her. He heard Ivy's screams mingle with the cries of his babies deprived of their food and he rose staggering to his feet.

Provide for them. Protect them.

Kill for his family.

As Batman--Bruce, it's Bruce, your father--raised his foot to stomp on the babies, Tim screamed and lashed out with an arm now covered in thorns, driving them all away. They were talking to him, trying to reason with him, calm him, but his babies were scared, and he stood over them, protecting them.

"They're not human," Batman argued. "They're plants. They have no feelings. Robin, son, please..."

"He's not human either," Dick said sorrowfully, hands wrapped around Bruce's biceps, holding him back.

"We have to fix this!"

Ivy laughed in the grip of several Titans. "Fix? There is no fix! He's mine. A part of the Green forever."

Yelling, so much yelling, words that no longer made any sense. Pleas and horror and shock and disgust.

None of it mattered.

Tim stood over his children, arms raised to the sun beginning to filter through the glass on the new morn. He felt the heat. Felt the peace.

Closed his eyes and felt the hardening.

Arms became branches. Feet became roots.

His last thought was of protecting his children beneath his sheltering boughs.

And then everything went green.


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