Pamela stretched out on the battered couch in the corner of the sewer lair, her fingers brushing idly across the carved petals of her Midnight Rose bracelet. She focused, willing the faint twitch of nearby vines to follow her thoughts, their roots dragging lightly over the damp concrete. She leaned back, but her mind wandered to Barbara, to the closeness of the night before. Heat crept into her cheeks. She sat up quickly, pressing her palm to her forehead.
"Why am I suddenly thinking about women?" she muttered, her voice uneasy, though her lips curved slightly despite herself. She shook her head and whispered more firmly, "It wouldn't be bad to have more than just Barbara…"
Her own words startled her. She sat frozen for a long moment, then slapped her thighs with her palms. "No, no, Pamela—you can't be greedy." The thought should have died there, but it didn't. Instead, it slithered back into her mind, bolder this time. "Still," she murmured, her gaze turning thoughtful, "that's a thought for the future. Maybe a harem isn't out of the question. All those anime and films where men collect wives—why not me? Why should men have that monopoly? I already have Barbara. Maybe I can have more."
As the fantasy rooted itself in her mind, her body betrayed her. A sweet fragrance leaked from her skin, curling into the stagnant air. She inhaled sharply. "This… this smells like a pheromone release. Just like the ones Woodrue taught us about in botany class." She sat upright, breathing deeper, realizing the perfume shifted subtly as her emotions did. She thought again of Barbara and of other faceless women surrounding her, of desire and dominance, and the air thickened with a heavier, more intoxicating note.
Across the lair, Barbara stopped mid-weld. The blowtorch hissed out as her whole body stiffened. Her face flushed crimson, her hands trembling. Confusion flashed across her eyes, replaced with anger, then sorrow, and finally a raw, burning lust. Her breath came short and fast. She ripped off her apron, yanked the welding mask from her head, and let the torch clatter to the floor. She stormed toward's the couch, her steps sharp and unsteady.
Pamela blinked, stunned at the sight of Barbara's flushed face. "Barbara? What's—have you been affected by—"
Barbara didn't let her finish. She shoved Pamela back down onto the couch, straddling her hips, eyes wide and wild. "What's going on with you?" she gasped, but even as she asked, she leaned down, their lips colliding with force. Pamela's gasp dissolved into a moan, and the world slipped away into heat and movement.
Hours later, the lair was quiet again. Pamela lay tangled in the couch cushions, hair damp and body aching. Barbara sat up slowly beside her, pulling her shirt over her head, her face still red but calmer now. She studied Pamela with a mixture of accusation and awe.
"You did something to me," Barbara said, her voice low but steady. "Didn't you? For me to push you down like that… Not that I didn't enjoy it, but something happened."
Pamela sat up, adjusting her blouse with trembling fingers. "I discovered something," she admitted. "I can release pheromones. They don't just attract others. They influence emotions. And if I focus, I think I can shape them—direct them, even from a distance. Like your nanites, but mine work on people instead of machines." She hesitated, then smiled faintly. "And lust seems… particularly effective."
Barbara pressed her lips together, considering. "It makes sense. Plants use pheromones all the time. And after everything Woodrue did to you, it's not surprising your body evolved this way. This is probably just the beginning." She adjusted her gloves, her eyes narrowing in thought. "I wouldn't be surprised if your powers keep expanding."
Pamela leaned back, stretching her arms over her head. "I'm counting on it."
Pamela wiped her brow with the back of her hand and then seemed to remember something. "By the way, I planted two of my Midnight Roses at the front entrance. They're already rooting in. They'll feed on anything alive that comes near—villains, rodents, sewer crocs. Nothing will get past them."
Barbara's smile widened with pride. "Perfect. With endless water flowing through this place and no risk of fire, they'll be unstoppable down here."
Barbara tilted her head. "I've seen what they can do. Anyone who wanders close won't live long enough to regret it. They'll make excellent guards."
Pamela brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "And how's the Unicorn?"
Barbara's face softened with satisfaction. "Better already. I swapped in cop tires, upgraded the suspension, reinforced the bulletproof plating. Right now I'm strengthening the bumper and windshield. She still looks like a rusted heap, but that's exactly what we want."
Pamela stood, fastening her belt. She walked over, smoothing Barbara's shirt collar with delicate fingers. "Excellent work, dear."
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