A Broader World (Harry Potter/DC Universe)

With two lust-crazed superpowered blondes bearing down on him, Harry had had only a split second to make his move… less than that, even. As such, his apparation is mostly instinctual, as is the choice of where he ends up arriving. Luckily, his instincts turn out to be pretty good. There’s only one place that Galatea has no knowledge of, while also being warded enough that Zatanna won’t be able to find him, seeing how it’s under the Fidelius Charm and he’s still the Secret Keeper.
 
Grimmauld Place.
 
Now, Harry hadn’t been back to Grimmauld Place in quite a while. It’d been locked down since Sirius’ death in fact, with Harry being the only one who could open it up again as Sirius’ Heir and the presumptive new Lord Black. He just… hadn’t wanted to. At first, it’d been because he was wallowing in his grief. And then Tea had fallen out of the sky literally into his lap and Harry had become… well, obsessed with her.
 
Did he recognize that his relationship with Tea was unhealthy at this point, after everything that had happened between them and then between him, Zatanna, and Kara? Maybe, but also, Harry really couldn’t bring himself to care. Oh, he cared to a point he supposed… but he still loved Tea with all his heart.
 
Which is why he needed to stay away from her and the others right now. For their own safety, as well as his, he needed to sequester himself away and figure out what the fuck was going on. What the hell had Poison Ivy done to him? What-
 
The curtains on the painting in Grimmauld Place’s foyer suddenly yank back to reveal the animated portrait of the former Mistress of the House, one Walburga Black. The Blood Purist’s eyes immediately turn flinty upon landing on Harry’s face, her lips thinning out as she recognizes him as her blood traitor of a son’s half-blood godson. Harry is already bracing himself for some scathing retort from the bitch of a painting, but then before she can say a word, her eyes slide downwards further… to where a certain crazed clown is still latched onto his cock like a fucking leech, sucking away madly and lustfully.
 
For a brief moment, the sight of him being blown by Harley Quinn is enough to silence Walburga Black and derail her initial words. But only for a moment, and when that moment passes, Harry can see that the painting is building up a FULL head of steam.
 
“FILTHY HALF-BLOOD BLOOD TRAITOR AND YOUR DISGUSTING FETISHES! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE AND TAKE YOUR CLOWN WHORE WITH YOU! I WILL NOT HAVE THE HOUSE OF BLACK PROFANED FOR ONE MO-MMPH! MMMMMMPH!”
 
It’s honestly pure instinct, what he does. A surge of anger flows through him and Harry throws his hand out towards Walburga. Not even he knows what to expect, but he certainly ISN’T expecting a bright pink ball gag to appear in the painted witch’s mouth, the painting itself modified by his magic to produce the incredibly garish and out of place gagging implement.
 
Walburga’s eyes go wide, and her hands come up to try and remove the gag, but to no avail. She scrabbles against it, but it seems it’s a permanent part of the painting now. Harry can’t help but stare for a moment. There’s nothing remotely attractive about the late Mrs. Black’s magical painting. Given that it should have been her best side or what have you, Harry can safely say that Walburga Black HAD no good sides, and if this painting was her at her best… she was always an ugly, ugly soul.
 
Still, the ball gag certainly adds a little something extra to things, and it definitely enhances her nonexistent attractiveness. But at the same time… how the fuck did he do that? Magical Paintings, or so he’d been told, were all but inviolate. They were fragments of their subjects, echoes of the past, and given the entire Wizarding World loved living in the past, it was no surprise that the protections and wards put on such magical paintings were incredibly powerful.
 
Indeed, the Order of the Phoenix had had to put up with Walburga Black for ages because they couldn’t get her painting down off the damn wall and stick it in the attic or something. Even Sirius couldn’t remove it for whatever reason, and it was his fucking house! Now, Harry hadn’t tried to remove the painting from the wall, but he’d done something even crazier when he’d outright altered it with that burst of accidental magic. Altering a Magical Painting once it had been properly set… it should have been impossible.
 
With a groan, Harry palms his forehead for a moment as Harley sucks his cock and Walburga does her level best to screech through her new accessory, the bright pink ball gag certainly… drawing the eye if nothing else.
 
“MMMMPH! NNNNNGH! MMMMPH!”
 
With a negligible wave of his hand, Harry closes the curtains on the late Mrs. Black’s portrait once more, blocking her from view. He immediately feels a little better truth be told, but that doesn’t mean his problems aren’t far from taken care of.
 
“Kreacher!”
 
The cantankerous old House Elf immediately appears before him, looking angry until he takes in the sight before him, and then he just looks bewildered, confused, and even disgusted.
 
“Master calls for Kreacher while Master is in the middle of indulging in nasty things! Master has weird plant woman and clown woman! Master is a freak!”
 
Harry grits his teeth at that, glaring daggers at the ancient House Elf.
 
“I won’t have you of all things calling me a freak, Kreacher. But… it is good to have it confirmed. I AM your Master now that Sirius is gone.”
 
Grumbling and mumbling, Kreacher fiddles with his hands as he snarls to himself.
 
“Yes, yes… half-blood scum is now Master. Can’t be helped, can’t be helped. Ah, to see how far the mighty House of Black has fallen. Isn’t right, no it isn’t.”
 
“Be quiet.”
 
Kreacher immediately falls silent, causing Harry to let out a low, drawn-out sigh. Finally, he drops a still-unconscious Poison Ivy off of his shoulder and onto the floor, not feeling even remotely sorry when her voluptuous body hits the ground with a somewhat meaty thunk. This was, after all, at least partially her fault. Besides, given she’d survived everything that had happened to her so far, he was pretty sure she was tough enough to take a little fall.
 
Pointing down at the unconscious villainess, Harry’s green eyes flash as he gives Kreacher his orders.
 
“Take her to a bed and do nothing to harm her.”
 
Grumbling, Kreacher pops forward.
 
“Don’t even know green woman. Why would Kreacher harm her. Unless she’s a blood traitor too. Wish Kreacher could harm her then…”
 
And then he pops away, taking Ivy’s unconscious form with him. Forced to trust that his orders would be obeyed given his ownership of Grimmauld Place and his inherited Lordship of House Black, Harry sighs and moves over to the nearby study, plopping himself down into a chair by the fireplace and doing his level best to collect his thoughts and plan out his next move.
 
… Of course, it would be a lot easier to do so if he could just get Harley to stop gagging and choking on his cock for a fucking second.
 
“Gagkh! Gagkh! Gagkh!”
 
The lust-crazed clown (and also just plain crazy in general) literally crawls with him as he walks from the foyer into the study, making his walk more of a damn waddle as he’s forced to hold onto her pigtails to maintain his equilibrium and balance. Even once he sits down, the beautiful harlequin is still going at it, still choking down his cock like there’s not going to be a tomorrow.
 
He’s very confident that there WON’T be a tomorrow for him very soon if he doesn’t figure out how to fix his current problem. All he knows for sure about the mess he’s in is that if the situation continues apace, he very much doubts he’s going to survive getting fucked by the lust-crazed women after him. Especially the Argoans. If either Galatea or Kara lose control over their alien super strength for even a moment, his entire lower body will be pasted he’s pretty sure… and that’s a CONSERVATIVE estimate.
 
No, he needs to actively avoid them until either this goes away on its own… or he figures out a solution. It’s possible that whatever is affecting their minds might dissipate on its own… but it’s equally possible that it’s permanent until it can be counteracted. And the only one who will probably be able to do that is Poison Ivy, considering this is at least partially her doing in the first place.
 
Groaning, Harry reaches out and grabs Harley by her ponytails, yanking her back off of his cock.
 
“For fuck’s sake Harley, you’ve sucked me off plenty, don’t you think?”
 
Whining pitifully, one hand buried between her legs and the other fondling his balls, Harley looks up at him with big honking puppy dog eyes.
 
“B-But I need it Mistah H! I need your cum! GIVE ME YOUR CUM!”
 
More than a little worried about what lengths she’ll go to if he doesn’t, Harry lets her descend back down his cock, he lets her get back to choking on his length long and hard.
 
“Glughk! Glughk! Glughk!”
 
And then he stands up and starts walking… well, waddling more like. Harley practically crabwalks backwards to keep his cock lodged in her throat, and Harry has to shuffle forward while holding onto her head the entire time, lest he fall over from the lack of balance. Still, he doesn’t see any other option. If he finishes down her throat in the study, how is he going to get the magically resistant harlequin upstairs?
 
And so, he ends up ascending the stairs of Grimmauld Place with his cock buried down a crazy clown’s throat. A couple of times he has to stop and restrain himself from cumming again, as Harley’s insistent sucking draws him closer and closer to his next release. Luckily for Harry, he’s had a very long day already, filled with tons of debauched shenanigans. At this point, it’s not incorrect to say he’s running on fumes and his balls are maybe a little empty.
 
He manages to get up to the next floor and find an empty bedroom before Harley can make him cum, shuffling into the room and forcing Harley back against the end of the bed, where he yanks on her pigtails and snarls just a bit.
 
“You fucking clownish whore. Merlin fucking damn it!”
 
Call it what you will, though deep down inside Harry knows it’s exactly what it sounds like… him losing his cool and blowing off some steam for a moment on an ‘acceptable’ target. In this case, one Harley Quinn, who he proceeds to outright skull fuck into oblivion, pounding away at her esophagus and down her gullet until her spasming choking throat finally makes him cum.
 
There is a secondary reason for treating her so roughly though. While he’s not looking to kill her, he is looking to weaken her. As such, there’s a note of satisfaction on Harry’s face as he stares down at Harley’s. The clown’s eyes are rolled back in her head when he finally deposits his hot thick load down her throat one last time. As he explodes into her mouth, she’s gurgling and twitching, her limbs all akimbo and splayed out as she sits there at the foot of the bed.
 
When he’s finally done, Harley is in no state to go another round, which is exactly what Harry was aiming for. Still, he’s not sure how long her weakness will last. As quickly as he can, he retreats out of the bedroom, drawing his wand as soon as he’s closed the door and casting what few locking spells he knows. Then, for good measure he tries something he’s never done before. He reaches out to Grimmauld Place’s wards, as Lord Black.
 
Thankfully it’s as easy as that and not more complex. He IS Lord Black now, and if he wasn’t, the wards would have already kicked him out for daring to trespass before the real Lord Black unlocked them. Sirius’ death had meant the inheritance passed to Harry, and so without too much difficulty he’s able to exercise his will over Grimmauld Place, the Black Manor bending to his whim.
 
Namely, he uses that control to lock down the room Harley is currently in far more securely than he otherwise could have. There’s a bright flare up of magic as the wards secure that room of the manor, which SHOULD hopefully keep Harley stuck there for the foreseeable future until Harry lets her out again. She’s magically resistant, but if he puts the magic around her rather than trying to cast AT her, then it should work.
 
It needed to work, Harry had to admit to himself as he stumbled his way to the manor’s master bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. Because at this point, he wasn’t just running on fumes, he was fully out of gas. Letting out one final sigh, knowing that he’d barely done the bare minimum to keep the numerous fires burning around him at bay, Harry nevertheless lets his eyes begin to drift shut.
 
Once he allows the bone deep exhaustion, he’s been feeling to start to overtake him, he couldn’t stop it again if he tried. In moments, the young Lord of House Black is entirely asleep, eyes shut as he gets some much, MUCH needed rest.
 
-x-X-x-
 
“GET THOSE THINGS AWAY FROM ME YOU LITTLE MONSTER?! WHAT THE FUCK EVEN ARE YOU?! WHERE THE FUCK AM I?!”
 
“KREACHER IS BEING A PROUD HOUSE ELF OF HOUSE BLACK, NO MATTER HOW FAR IT HAS FALLEN! GREEN WOMAN WILL STOP WITH HER PLANT MAGICS AT ONCE!”
 
“MMMPH!!! NNNGH!!! MMMPH!”
 
“K-Kreacher will try to help Mistress get fixed as soon as possible! Please don’t be upset with Kreacher, he did not know Mistress was in such a state!”
 
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?! HOW IS THAT PAINTING MOVING?! WHY DOES IT HAVE A BALL GAG?!”
 
Harry’s first thought, as he’s woken up to the indignant yells, muffled outraged shrieks, and shouted demands, is one of regret because he decidedly forgot to close the door of the master bedroom before falling upon the bed and going to sleep. As such, he can hear the fighting going on downstairs clear as day as it travels to the upper floor and reaches his ears.
 
Of course, once his beleaguered mind actually processes what he’s hearing and realizes how bad the situation sounds, his second thought is more along the lines of ‘oh shit!’. Jolting up out of the bed, green eyes wide, Harry bolts from the room and down the stairs, arriving on the lower level of Grimmauld Place to find something of a magical warzone at the bottom of the stairs.
 
Poison Ivy had woken up while he was asleep, and he honestly hadn’t put nearly as much effort into securing her as he did Harley. As such, the plant-controlling supervillain is currently completely free… but no less irate about her perceived imprisonment. Her powers are currently going out of control, and her plant growth has invaded Grimmauld Place, growing out of mold and spores that have no doubt been in the walls for hundreds of years.
 
Kreacher, meanwhile, has clearly been doing his best to combat the green-skinned woman. With multiple magical gardening tools levitating around the ancient house elf, he’s doing all he can to battle Ivy’s growing plants… and he’s honestly not doing that badly either. It’s a testament to just how dangerous a house elf can be how powerful their magic actually is. Most wizards and witches are blind to just how strong their servants actually are, the fact that their teleportation magic goes right through wards being the least of those strengths.
 
But Kreacher has been told not to harm Ivy by his Master, by Harry himself, and the old House Elf is STILL managing to fight off the plant controlling villainess all the same, while the two of them shout back and forth at one another.
 
And finally, of course, there’s Walburga Black. The curtains in front of her portrait have once again opened up, revealing the painting of the witch in all of its glory… including the bright pink ball gag that Harry had ‘graced’ her with. In fact, Walburga is the first to clock him as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, her eyes flicking over to him. She looks a disturbing mixture of outraged and maybe even contrite as she tries to get his attention, likely to nonverbally demand he fix her.
 
But Harry just swings his hand around and closes her curtains again, even as he bounds forward and places himself between Kreacher and Ivy, his hands outstretched towards both of them.
 
“Hold it! Let’s put a pin in this battle, please! We’re all on the same side here… at least sort of! Kreacher, put those tools away. Ivy, you NEED to calm down… you’re not a prisoner here. I saved you in fact, from your own lair.”
 
Kreacher grumbles and mumbles but has no choice in the matter, forced to obey his Master’s orders as the levitating gardening tools all slowly float away and Kreacher himself disappears to put them back where they belong. It’s Poison Ivy who Harry can’t control or command right now, and so it’s Poison Ivy who gets the vast majority of his attention as he turns properly to face her.
 
As such, he sees the blatant distrust and incredulity on her face as her nose scrunches up and she scowls, crossing her arms over her ample bosom and frowning mightily.
 
“Yeah? Saved me, did you? It was your lovers who gangraped me into unconsciousness in the first place, brat!”
 
Flushing a bit, Harry inclines his head, acknowledging the point.
 
“Yes… yes they did. And if not for my timely arrival, it might have been worse than unconsciousness. But we BOTH have a problem here, Ivy. Because the only reason that Zatanna, Tea, and Kara are all acting that way is because of YOUR pheromones!”
 
Gritting her teeth, Ivy claws at her own forearms, looking like she doesn’t want to accept it.
 
“Bah! My pheromones don’t work like this! They shouldn’t have done this at all! None of this makes any sense!”
 
“It does when you take magic into account. Because if there’s one thing that magic can be expected to do, it’s the unexpected. Magic doesn’t always make sense… and when my magic and your pheromones mixed together, they clearly had a reaction. Now, I won’t apologize for that, because from the look of things, my magic saved me from your pheromones. But it’s still a problem, and we both want it fixed.”
 
Looking like she’s been forced to swallow a lemon whole, a very sour expression on her face, Ivy remains belligerent and caustic as she sneers at him.
 
“I don’t see why it’s my problem, or why I should care to fix it. Seems like it’s entirely a YOU problem, Wizard.”
 
He was pretty sure she already had his name, at least at some point in all of this mess. But just in case, Harry gives it anyways.
 
“My name isn’t Wizard, it’s Harry Potter. You can call me Harry. And there are two reasons you should see sense on this and realize that we’re in this together and we both need to fix this.”
 
Lips pinched together tightly, Ivy jerks her head in acknowledgment, as if to say ‘go on’. Spreading his arms out in a non-confrontational motion, Harry quirks up the side of his mouth.
 
“Number One, what do you think will happen if I die? My lovers, as you learned yourself, are the equivalent of Kryptonian in power level. Supergirl and her clone are both multitudes stronger than you or me physically.”
 
“Yes, and?”
 
“And, if something happens to me, if I die and this reaction we’ve created together doesn’t go away on its own… who do you think they’ll blame? Who do you think they’ll hunt to the ends of the Earth? And in their current state, what sort of sick and twisted form do you think their revenge on you will take? I don’t really think you have to imagine it… you already experienced the opening stages, didn’t you?”
 
As he’s been talking, Ivy has gotten stiffer and stiffer. Her face is still set in a scowl, and she still seems eager to be contrary, but Harry can see the way her eyes are widening fractionally with every good point he’s making. She doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s right. Their lives might as well be tied to each other. He needs her around to figure out a quick and easy fix to this mess, and she needs him around to keep the sex-crazed superpowered women they’ve accidentally created together from taking her head off in revenge.
 
Of course, rather than concede the point, Ivy just moves onto the other.
 
“And what’s the second reason?”
 
Letting out a sigh at seeing how difficult Ivy is attempting to be, Harry shakes his head, hoping that he’s judged things between her and her comrade well enough at this point.
 
“Right. Number Two… come with me.”
 
Distrusting but no longer threatened by his mere presence from the look of things, Ivy follows Harry up the stairs to the second floor of Grimmauld Place. With his wand out, Harry finally lets the wards around the room he stuck Harley in relax, but he gets ready for anything as he throws the door open. He’s half-expecting to be attacked if Harley is conscious again, which he gives good odds on since Ivy is already up and at ‘em.
 
However, even Harry is a little surprised by the sight that greets them in the room beyond, while Ivy just gasps in horror at what she sees in there. Harley Quinn, having been unable to get to the object of her desire all this time, namely Harry’s cock, had settled for trashing the room instead. She’d clawed at the walls hard enough to leave furrows in their surface, and she’d ruined multiple pieces of furniture.
 
Her reason for doing so had not just been wanton destruction though. Unable to get the cock she wanted so badly back inside of her; Harley had resorted to breaking two of the thick wooden legs off of a chair in the room and had double stuffed herself with them. From the puddle of juices beneath her face down, ass up body, she’d plowed herself with the wooden implements for quite some time.
 
“M-Mistah H… Mistah H… p-please Mistah H…”
 
Even now, once more in an unconscious state, she’s moaning his name, moaning for his cock.
 
“Harley…”
 
Ivy sounds horrified and distraught for her friend’s state, and as she and Harry step into the room, he lets out a sigh and waves his hand at Harley on the bed.
 
“That’s Reason Number Two. If not for me, if not even for your own self… then I’d hope you want to fix this at least for Harley’s sake. She’s in the same boat as my lovers, as you called them. She needs our help, just like they do. She-!”
 
Before he can get another word out, Harley proves to not be quite as unconscious as either of them thought. Like a hungry dog, the moment Harry and Ivy get far enough into the room that his scent reaches her nose, Harley bolts up and charges at the wizard, not even removing the chair legs from her holes first as she positively HOWLS with insane lust.
 
Those chair legs making her stumble are probably the only thing that give Ivy enough time to utilize her lightning fast reflexes, her plants slamming up between Harry and Harley and holding the crazed clown up in the air. Thinking fast, Ivy steps forward and blows Harley a kiss, pink spores floating into the harlequin’s face and after a moment sending her back to Lala Land on the double.
 
As the frantic, crazed movements of Harley slow to a crawl before she goes slack in the grip of Ivy’s plants entirely, the green-skinned villainess takes one long look at her friend, before letting out a low sigh and turning to Harry.
 
“… Very well. I’ll help.”
 
Harry can’t help but feel relieved as they set Harley back down, tying her up for her own protection this time before locking her back into the room with the wards. Surely, with Ivy on board, they would figure this out asap! They had to be able to put their heads together and come up with a solution. Right?
 
-x-X-x-
 
Wrong.
 
“Ugh, your implements are all hundreds of years out of date. This is ridiculous…”
 
While it was nice to finally have Ivy on board with the whole ‘save her own skin and cure her friend and his lovers’ plan, it didn’t mean things were suddenly all sunshine and roses between the two of them. Harry had to constantly remind himself that this alliance of theirs was only ever a marriage of convenience. Ivy was only agreeing to help in order to cure Harley and save herself from further abuse at the hands of the other infected heroines.
 
She didn’t like him or the circumstances any better for it, and she was more than willing to make that abundantly clear again and again as they got together the supplies, they would need to begin making a counteragent to the initial chemical reaction between her pheromones and his magical biology. First, Harry had led her to Grimmauld Place’s Potion Laboratory, thinking that it could only be a good thing that they were in a place that already had one of those. House Black had had Potion Masters and Mistresses in the past after all, but it hadn’t had any of those any time recently from the level of dust and cobwebs in said laboratory.
 
Regardless, having Kreacher bring what potion making tools that House Black had stashed away to the Potion Laboratory had seemed like the next best step. Only, now Ivy was busy shitting all over them, simply because muggle technology was so much more advanced.
 
Which… fair enough. The Wizarding World’s closest thing to Muggle Chemistry was Potion-Making and maybe Alchemy, and as an accomplished scientist, Ivy was insulted by it all. It was an affront to ‘real’ science, as Ivy put it.
 
Still…
 
“This is what we have. So, let’s stop the bellyaching and get to work, shall we?”
 
Huffing indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest again, Ivy nevertheless nods sharply at him in response. There’s a pregnant pause of silence before Harry raises his eyebrow questioningly.
 
“… So where do we start?”
 
Jolting, as if just realizing she has to be in charge here, Ivy hesitates for a moment before looking at him somewhat distastefully.
 
“We’ll need some samples from you first. Bodily fluids, mostly. Blood to start with for me to study.”

That was easy enough, and so Harry had no issue bleeding himself into one of the ancient glass vials for Ivy’s viewing pleasure. After which, she tries to use the old implements in the laboratory to study his blood as best she can. Harry is left to stand there, trying to ignore the way his cock is already rock hard again in the appearance of a truly beautiful, utterly spectacular woman.
 
No matter how ugly Ivy’s personality might be on the inside (and he still wasn’t entirely sure she was that bad of a person, just a little selfish maybe and angry at the world for hating her or something) there was no denying her outward beauty. From her gorgeous red locks to her absolutely bombshell body… even with her light green skin, she was easily one of the most beautiful women that Harry had ever laid his eyes on and considering how he seemed to have gained a harem at some point, that was saying something.
 
So yeah, he’s checking her out and trying to resist the urge to adjust himself as he stands there, not wanting her to catch sight of it, not wanting to distract her.
 
After a few minutes of tense silence, Ivy lets out a disgruntled noise and pushes back from the table and his blood, whipping around to glare at him pointedly.
 
“Sit down.”
 
Not sure what he’s done wrong now, Harry sits down on the nearby stool, brow furrowing as Ivy stands and stalks over to him.
 
“What is it? What’d I do this time?”
 
“Your blood isn’t enough. I will need some of your semen as well. Unfortunately, I will have to resort to the tried-and-true method of extraction, especially after the adverse reaction my spores caused last time.”
 
Harry blinks at that, wondering at her words, even as the disgruntled villainess drops to her knees in front of him and extracts his cock from his robes. She scoffs at the fact that he’s already rock hard, but Harry can tell she’s only doing so to hide her urge to gulp in trepidation at the sheer size his massive member has grown to.
 
Really, maybe he’s just reading too far into things, but part of Harry wonders at just how… against this Ivy really is. Off the top of his head, he can think of two other ways she could have extracted his seed without involving herself specifically. One, she could have jerked him off with her plants, no spores needed. Two, she could have just told him to jerk himself off. Now, Harry couldn’t say for sure if he was even capable of jerking himself off anymore.
 
It’d been a LONG time since he’d masturbated. Even before running in with Ivy and getting this… upgrade to his genitals, Harry’s life had been so filled with sex and women that he hadn’t had cause to wank one for months now. But Ivy didn’t know that. She hadn’t even suggested it. Instead, the red-haired villainess is on her knees, double-fisting his cock with both hands and glaring at him as if she hates him.
 
“Tch, you big dicked bastard…”
 
“I-It’s bigger now because of you, Ivy…”
 
Blushing a bit at that, the green-skinned plant controller just scoffs.
 
“W-Whatever.”
 
An awkward silence falls between them for a moment as she gives him a hate-driven handjob, yanking her hands up and down his cock with an aggressive fervor that makes him groan. Honestly, he’s probably lucky for the upgrade she inadvertently gave him, because this might actually be painful right now. As it is, his dick has clearly been a little desensitized by the increase in size. Perhaps his cockskin itself is thicker? Either way, no matter how rough Ivy gets with her hands, it only ever feels good. In fact, the problem is more that it doesn’t feel good ENOUGH.
 
“Ivy… I don’t think I’m going to cum like this.”
 
He tries his best to sound apologetic, but something smug must leak through because Ivy’s answering scowl is mighty indeed. Still, the voluptuous villainess nevertheless agrees with him from the look of things, because after a moment of glaring down at his giant cock, she moves in and opens wide. As Poison Ivy’s lips slide over his cockhead, Harry lets out a loud groan and tilts his own head back in enjoyment, panting heavily as she begins to suck him off.
 
Perhaps eager to finish him as fast as possible, or perhaps succumbing to her own lust, Ivy begins to speed up after a moment, sliding down his dick further and further, until ultimately, she’s face fucking herself upon his cock, her hands moving to his thighs instead as she chokes and gurgles his way up and down his length, time and time again.
 
“Gurghk! Glughk! Hulghk!”
 
The whole time, Ivy’s eyes remain affixed on his face. But not with something like adoration or devotion or even lust like Harry has grown accustomed to. No, the plant controller stares up at him with a baleful look in her eyes, hate and spite fueling her drive to try and get him off as fast as possible. It’s a new experience for Harry, to be outright despised by the woman currently skull fucking herself on his cock. Honestly though? He doesn’t mind it as much as he might have thought he would.
 
In fact, its easy for him to get lost in the tight, flexing feel of Ivy’s wet throat… too easy, one might say. As he gets closer and closer to cumming, Harry’s brain goes a little fuzzy and it becomes hard for him to remember the reason that they needed his ejaculate in the first place. Lost in the throes of lust, he ends up grabbing Ivy by her head and pressing her down on his crotch as he doubles over her, groaning and blasting his load down her throat.
 
Needless to say, Poison Ivy is not happy about this, but her slaps against his thighs and hips are to no avail, and her choked squealing is soon changed to choked gurgling as his cum flows right down her convulsing throat. Harry’s loud groans are easily able to drown out the noises Ivy is making as some of his seed explodes out of her nostrils, but the vast majority ends up down her gullet and in her belly.
 
Only once Harry is done cumming does he realize what he’s done and grow somewhat contrite and apologetic. Wincing, he begins to pull back and apologize, only for Ivy to yank herself out of his grasp and throw him from the stool and onto the ground. As she stands over him, her face stained with his cum but not enough of it and her hands on her hips, Harry can’t help but grow hard all over again…
 
-x-X-x-
 
D-Damn this awful wizard brat… Poison Ivy is not used to being so… caught off guard. She’s certainly not used to feeling weak or even used. She’s spent a lot of time over the last several years making sure she’s never used again. Unfortunately, this fucking big-dicked brat of a wizard has ruined all of that. Tch, she would be sure to get back at him for it later… once they’d solved their current problem and cured Harley and the others.
 
“I-Idiot! You know I needed the damn cum for study!”
 
“S-Sorry, I don’t know what came over me…”
 
The problem was, Ivy DID know what came over him. Her pheromones and his magic had caused this together. He was in a half-berserker like state. Normally, her pheromones would cause complete and absolute loyalty and devotion to yours truly, followed by Ivy being able to trigger a berserker state in her thralls, causing them to grow extra strong and aggressive for a short time before dying.
 
Somehow, that state had already been partially triggered in Harry, but his magic was sustaining him. Rather than going all out for a short time and then dying, it was almost like his magic was feeding on her pheromones, making him stronger all around and more permanently, just over a slower period of time. Ivy didn’t want to admit that was happening though. She certainly didn’t want to tell him that his power boost and his sudden bouts of aggression were HER doing.
 
Instead, spinning around, she sits her shapely behind upon the young wizard’s abdomen, placing her thicc thighs around his massive erection as she faces away from him, pinning him in place. With her ankles crossed and her entwined legs shifting up and down, she begins to give him a thigh job, while at the same time planting her hands on either side of his body and looking back over her shoulder as she glares daggers at him.
 
“Don’t mess up again. This time, your seed better end up in a damn vial!”
 
“… R-Right…”
 
It takes Ivy a moment to realize that his hesitance and stammer aren’t out of fear for her, as they should be, but from something else. Her eyes widen slightly when she realizes where he’s looking. He’s not looking her in the eye, because he’s a teenage boy and of course he can’t be expected to be capable of looking a beautiful older woman such as herself in the eye.
 
Instead, his gaze is focused on her emerald-green ass, bouncing up and down in front of him as she does her level best to give him a thigh job that will see him cumming once more. As his gaze remains fixed on Ivy’s ass, the plant controlling villainess quickly realizes what’s on his mind and what sort of dark temptation is lurking in his heart.
 
“D-Don’t you da-!”
 
S-SMACK!
 
Ivy nearly bites through her tongue as one of Harry’s hands comes down HARD on her left butt cheek, the slap ringing through her body even as the sound rings through the laboratory. Absolutely shocked by the young wizard’s audacity, Ivy doesn’t even feel angry at first… but it arrives when he goes for a second spanking on her other butt cheek a moment later.
 
SMACK!
 
“Y-You dare!”
 
But while there is anger in Ivy’s voice, there’s something else as well, something she fails to completely suppress, something that, much to her chagrin, Harry ends up picking up on. It’s not just the tone of her voice either, the wavering undertone beneath the anger in her words. No, it’s also her treacherous body, betraying her as his spankings cause her slit to become slicker and slicker, and her body to instinctively increase its tempo with every last slap.
 
“Seems like it’s working for you, Ivy.”
 
The boy does indeed dare! Outraged, but also extremely aware that he’s not wrong, Ivy sputters and turns away from him, facing forward and staring out at the ancient magical laboratory she finds herself stuck in. At least this way he can’t see the blush on her face as her pussy lips get slicker and slicker, her juices starting to run down his shaft and her inner thighs, providing further lubrication for the thigh job she’s engaging in as she yelps and squeaks with every spanking, as she moves faster with every smack to her gorgeous emerald globes of ass flesh.
 
S-She… she needed to end this before she suffered the humiliation of cumming from such a situation. He wasn’t even penetrating her, and yet, the combination of his throbbing, pulsating bitch breaker between her thighs and his hands coming down on her ass were threatening to be enough to send her over the edge anyways.
 
Ivy refused to let that happen, but how was she to stop it? She needed to make him cum before she did, and normally she would have the utmost confidence in her ability to do so. But the truth was, she was only partially immune to the reaction Harry’s magic had had to her pheromones. She was, of course, completely immune to her own pheromones, but that didn’t mean she was immune to the magically mutated pheromones that Harry was putting out now.
 
No, rather, it was more like she was heavily resistant. She still had her wits about her, she wasn’t in danger of becoming a sex crazed zombie like Harley or the others any time soon. But d-damn it all if it didn’t feel good, having his cock between her thighs, having his hands coming down hard upon her emerald booty. Eyes threatening to roll back in her head, tongue wanting to stick out of her mouth, it takes every ounce of Ivy’s willpower to hold back the ecstasy.
 
She needed to find a way to change the dynamic. Even though she was on top, she STILL wasn’t in control. Even now, even with her doing all the work, he was managing to overcome her simply by playing bongo drums with her fucking ass! Ugh, it was intolerable… but what could she do?
 
Then it hits her, a memory of their first time together. A throwaway line, a slip of Harry’s tongue. At one point, had the young wizard not called her his mother? A wicked sort of grin spreads across the beleaguered villainess’ face and she calls out to Harry, seeking to turn this on him and end this as soon as possible.
 
“D-Do… do you like having mama’s thighs w-wrapped around your cock, baby? Do you like it when your mother bounces up and down on your l-lap?~”
 
That causes him to pause for a moment, though much like his spankings make her wetter, Ivy feels the effect her words have on his cock as it positively THROBS between her thighs.
 
“You… you aren’t my mother.”
 
Smirking evilly, Ivy turns and looks back over her shoulder at him again.
 
“I could be… for today. Go on then, baby. Make mama proud~”
 
Her words, combined with bouncing herself up and down on his lap and sliding her thighs and slit along his haft… they have an effect. Perhaps not the intended one though. With a lustful growl, Harry begins to hump back against her quite aggressively. Letting out a light cackle, feeling like she’s finally getting one up on the brat, Ivy continues to slide her slick thighs up and down his thrusting shaft.
 
Finally, though, her plan backfires on her as it was always going to do, when Harry grabs her fat ass in both hands after a harsh double slap that echoes through the Potions Laboratory, followed by him mauling her tits heavily in retaliation for her incestuous play.
 
Ivy cries out right as Harry shouts and his next release explodes from his massive cock. Unfortunately, her victory is short-lived, because she’s cumming right alongside him a moment later… as well, catching jet after jet of white, hot seed in her open mouth as his massive meat rocket launches its payload up into the air, only for it to come back down all over Ivy’s head and shoulders, but mostly in her gaping maw.
 
After being forced to swallow several MORE mouthfuls of the jizz that’s already filling her belly to the brink just to avoid drowning in the excess, the jet finally begins to subside and Ivy is able to tear herself free of Harry’s clutches, lunging up off of her position seated on him to stumble forward and grab the closest potion vial.
 
Once she has it, she streams a veritable fountain of cum out of her mouth and down onto her tits, letting it drain down the valley provided by her all natural cleavage and fill the vial until it’s bubbling over the brim. As she stoppers up the sample that’s absolutely crucial to her research and experiments, Ivy looks back at the wizard she left behind on the floor and can’t help but notice the puddle of her own pussy juices soaking across his abdomen.
 
Cursing both him and herself for her own weakness as she rubs at her poor, abused ass cheeks, Ivy scowls and ultimately ends up taking out her frustration on Harry… namely, via a swift kick to the side delivered after she walks back over to him. Pulled out of his post orgasm stupor, Harry groans as he doubles up from the kick.
 
“G-Get up, you bastard. Now that we have what we need… it’s time to get to work.”
 
Hopefully this alliance of theirs wouldn’t have to last much longer, because frankly she was starting to fear for her sanity. Still, all Ivy needed to do was figure out a fix to things, cure Harley, and get the two of them out of here and as far away from Harry Potter as fucking possible.
 
That shouldn’t be too hard, right?

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