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The woman was tall and slender, her long legs going on for a small eternity. She was blue, a shade which almost merged with the void of space, giving her an ethereal air marred by the mismatched shades of her cybernetic parts. Some at least attempted to blend in with her biological appearance, while others were rawly mechanical. Even this couldn’t diminish her beauty. Devoid of hair, her face was remarkably lovely, symmetrically centered around full, pouting lips. A layer of frost had formed over her body in the void of space, but somehow she didn’t look dead. She looked like she was resting after a long, wearisome day.

“Something threw out a perfectly good girl,” Dawn observed.

Silver Surfer reached out to her, constructing a shield bubble around all three of them with gravity and atmosphere, its forcefield perimeter muting the stars’ glow. Then his outstretched hand crackled with real power.

“She is not dead,” Norrin said. “Her name is Nebula. Her species’ vitality and her robotic upgrades have allowed her to survive the vacuum in deep hibernation.”

“Can you bring her out of it?” Dawn asked.

“The Power Cosmic can do anything,” Norrin answered. “It only falls to me to imagine it.”

He trained his hand on Nebula, a soft glow coming from his palm as if light were reflecting off that one portion of his metallic coating. It suffused Nebula, and almost immediately she began to kick gently, like a dog dreaming. Then she began to writhe, his hands curling and uncurling, her head tossing from side to side, her back arching…

“Is she… enjoying this?” Dawn asked.

“The Power Cosmic can have many effects,” Norrin said.

Nebula’s slackly closed eyes now shut tightly, while her lips parted with a flicker of her tongue. They pressed together thinly, opened again, formed a little O that pulsed in a series of pursing motions.

"Uh--ahhh--yessss--OH!--Uhhhhhh..."

“Wish something would have that effect on me,” Dawn commented.

Nebula rolled over onto her belly, her ass almost uncovered by how tight her pants were, the softest swell of her buttocks formed out of the long, slow slope of her endless legs—the perfect ending for all their length. Dawn found herself staring as Nebula’s hips jogged up and down, rutting into the floor the Surfer’s power provided, her ass quivering with strong, fast thrusts.

"Mmmmmfffffff," Nebula groaned as some deeper pleasure was released, and her body shuddered orgasmically.

Then she went still.

“I think you overdid it,” Dawn said, going to kneel down by Nebula’s body. She felt for a pulse, but there was only an ozone-y buzzing, like you’d feel near a high-tension wire. She picked Nebula up as best she could, hugging the woman to her chest as she rubbed her arms. “Hey! Wakey-wakey. C’mon, girlie, wake up and smell the Power Cosmic.”

As she opened her eyes, it didn’t seem strange to Nebula that another woman was holding her in her arms. After the cold of space, she somewhat enjoyed the feel of warm flesh pressed against her own, and she responded by pressing her ass back against Dawn’s lap.

“Whatever you just did,” she said, “do it again.” 

“I tire of this rote foreplay,” Circe said, twining a lock of purple hair around her forefinger. 

“You’re tired?” Diana retorted, twining her lasso around her forefinger. “Turning a fraternity into pigs is hardly original.”

“So what are you going to do about it? The punching, the kicking, your lasso, my magic. Why don’t we make things interesting?”

Diana grumbled under her breath. The problem with advocating for peaceful resolutions was that everyone thought they could cut a deal. “I’m listening, sorceress.”

“A little game. If you win, the pigs go back to walking on two legs. If I win, I have a luau.” 

“What’s the bet?” Diana demanded.

“That lovably chthonic suiter of yours. The Batman. If I can seduce him first, I win. If you can finally get him into bed, victory is yours.”

“Finally? I haven’t been trying.”

“Not hard enough, certainly. Do you accept my challenge?”

Diana snorted. Although she was honor bound not to take any deals that would require her sexual submission in exchange for boons, this was more a contest of skill. She doubted it would set a precedent for villains seeking to test themselves against her seductive prowess. “Very well. Let’s see who ends up on top.”

“Well, so much for the humorless feminist,” Circe laughed. “One more thing. No telling him what the game is so he’ll sleep with you for the greater good. That would just be sleazy.”

“No bewitching him to fall in love with you either,” Diana retorted.

“Like I need to. Now, since this is a race, I hope you won’t mind me simply teleporting to Gotham while you do the air traffic control thing. Don’t hate the playa, Diana, hate the game!”

Diana outright growled as Circe disappeared in a puff of purple smoke. One thing about being an immortal—when you turned evil, thousands of years of life taught you how to be a real prick about it.

***

As she flew over the Atlantic seaboard, the monitor on Diana’s control console lit up. Diana automatically checked it—no missile alert or radar contact. It was a view of Circe, dressed in a sleek, skintight leather catsuit. A goggled cowl covered her purple hair, little ears giving her an unmistakable silhouette.

“If you’re going to ask me who wore it better,” Diana said, “the answer won’t be you.”

“Well, you’re not the one whose opinion matters,” Circe retorted. “There’s just something about a dominatrix that’s so much more contemporary than this one-piece bathing suit of yours.”

“Shapeshifting into another woman to get Batman’s attention? Hardly very empowered of you.”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

“More clichés.”

“Cliches? I was the one who invented the phrase.” 

Circe laughed and the camera—or the magical equivalent of it—panned to show that Batman was on an adjoining rooftop, the skyline Gotham’s. Diana’s view advanced forward as if flying across the street, not stopping until it was alongside Batman. Circe came down beside him, looking as good as Selina ever had. Diana knew that with her magic, even Bruce would be hardpressed to tell the difference between her impersonation and the real thing.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Circe said, slinking around him with her zipper pulled down nearly to her navel. Diana wondered what kind of immature nerd would be fooled by that behavior from a cat burglar. “Care to slap me in handcuffs, for old time’s sake?”

“I don’t have time for this,” Batman barked back at her, stalking across the rooftop. “Robin’s been kidnapped.”

“Really? How awful.” Circe pressed a hand to her chest in consternation. “Can I offer you some solace in your time of woe?”

“I’ll find him,” Batman vowed. He pushed past her. “Stay out of it.”

Circe interposed herself between him and the building’s ledge. “C’mon, Batsy. Couldn’t you use a helping hand? And afterward, maybe we can celebrate. I’ve got my whip on me…”

Batman shoved her aside. “If you have a lead, say so. Otherwise, I am busy.”

Circe stomped her little foot in a huff. “Fine,” she said, fuming as only the sorceress could, only reluctantly being ‘Selina’ again. “I’ll go check the East End for any clues. Someone must know something.”

There was a growl deep in Batman’s throat, but it subsided. As Circe turned to go, he called after her without looking. “Selina—thank you.”

“Just remember our deal,” Circe said. “Once you’ve got your hype man back, you can really thank me.”

Batman jumped, spreading his cape out as wings, and Circe dropped the façade, beginning to chant a spell when she saw Diana smiling through the screen.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded.

“Nothing. Just that your act of villainy has degenerated into a mission of mercy. Perhaps next, you can get to second base by adopting a litter of puppies.”

“I’d rather turn this stinking town into a litter of puppies. And I’ll have the Bat eating out of my hand long before you get here.”

“If he is into bondage,” Diana wondered aloud, “who do you think he’d go to? A woman who owns some leather or a native of Paradise Island?”