When Spidey Met Oracle

His lust's bleeding through... corrupting the memory, the White Queen explained. You've got to focus. What was it like back then?

He was sweet, Barbara remembered. Such a sweet boy. Back then, she'd been well aware when he was about to lose it, so she'd back off. Sometimes, slowing down had been enough, but there were other times when she just had to stop completely, slipping his thick dick from mouth, waiting for that raging storm within to settle before she started once more. Again, she was teaching him patience and pace, and if Peter Parker was anything, he was an excellent student...

But now he was choking her on his cock. He took hold of her head with both of his hands as he continued ramming his dick into her throat.

How did it end? Emma asked her. How did he cum?

No one had ever sucked him off before and I wa-wanted it to be special... Barbara struggled to remember. So I... so I a-asked him...

So ask him, Frost commanded. Throughout this ordeal, the White Queen had continued her concentrated cunnilingus. Emma's mouth had become this weird source of singular pleasure for Barbara as the world went wrong around her. She hadn't even realized she'd been grinding into the telepath's face with the same vigor Peter was practically raping her throat until that moment...

Ask him, Frost instructed again.

Barbara looked up at Peter then. His eyes were open and glazed. He grunted as he thrusted into her faster.

He'd never looked the way that he did now. Not with her...

I can't, Barbara realized. It's not the same. He's not...

Then why are you doing this? Emma wondered, drawing her tongue slowly from Barbara's cunt.

He -- mmm -- he's got to -- ah! -- come back, Barbara realized, scrambling to get her thoughts together.

Don't tell me, darling, Emma said, licking the length of her slit. Tell him.

Barbara had been so comfortable with reliving the memory before, but she fought it now, pushing Peter back, disengaging from the assault of his dick.

"Come back to us Peter..." she begged him out loud. "Cum for me..."

And then the White Queen bore down on her clit, sucking it between her lips as she lavished it with her soft, pink tongue.

Emma stop! Barbara screamed inside as she felt herself rising again. I'm... I'm gonna... Her thoughts were slipping...

In that moment of blind panic, Peter forced his dick back into Barbara's mouth and his seed flooded her throat. She was drowning in cum.

Sorry, dearie, but it's now or never, Emma apologized. Trust me, there's a method to my muff-dying...

And then it was more than just the White Queen eating her out. So much more. If Barbara thought about it, she might realize that the psychic had just tapped the sex center of her brain, but she couldn't think about it. She couldn't think about anything but the... the...

Barbara couldn't think.

One last guttural moan burst from her lips as the pleasure spasmed through her whole being.

The room was falling apart. The bed beside her crumbled into dust. The walls cracked and collapsed. The nightstand fell away and so did Peter, but he was still blasting her with his creamy white.

This place around her, this once perfect memory of a time long ago wobbled and waned.

Barbara wasn't just cumming... she was coming undone...

Oh, bugger, she heard the White Queen murmur in her mind as their world faded away.

And then it all fell apart...

CHAPTER NINE: One Moment in Mind

There were lots of reasons why the Justice League didn't just teleport all over the place.

Cost was certainly a factor. Despite government funding and sponsorship from supportive corporations like Wayne Enterprises and Queen Industries over the years, the League still had to keep its operating budget within reason and the transporter used a lot of power. Upkeep was a pain in the ass, too. Regular maintenance was a time-consuming endeavor for the few members with the technical aptitude to complete such work.

Sometimes these limitations had to be explained to new Leaguers. When Blue Beetle first joined, he'd suggested a number of ways that the device could be used in combat that seemed practical and innovative. But just like every newbie who was all gung ho about using the JLA teleporter, all it took was one instantaneous trip via randomized atomization for him to change his tune. Because when you got right down to it, for all those perfectly valid considerations, there was really one major flaw with the teleportation system:

It sucked.

It wasn't that it was unreliable. Sure, there had been the occasional mishap, but if you were traveling from one transport pad to another, there usually wasn't a problem. To date, nobody had ever been killed, but in the good old days of the JLA satellite, when teleportation was more or less the only way for most members to get into geosynchronous orbit, there was always that fear in the back of your mind that Ray Palmer or Barry Allen might have misplaced a decimal point or failed to carry a one while calibrating something and you were going to end up in the cold vacuum of space where no one could hear you scream... even if you did have a canary cry.

But again, it wasn't really a problem of accuracy. Teleporting didn't suck because it didn't always get you exactly where you meant to end up. Teleporting sucked because it hurt.

The system was based on technology from Mars, which meant that it was really only designed to work on a certain kind of physiology. Martians were shape-shifters by nature, granting them a certain flexibility when it came to withstanding particle dissemination. Especially when compared to the more rigid requirements of the human body. On Earth, your kidneys really needed to be in the same place they were before you teleported. You couldn't just move things back where they were supposed to be afterwards.

This wasn't a big deal for everybody. J'onn, of course, was fine. So was Plastic Man. Superman could use the device with relative ease, but when you were fast enough you could fly to the sun and back in twenty minutes, teleporting wasn't really doing you a lot of favors. Wonder Woman never complained, but everyone suspected she was just pretending she was perfectly fine having her insides twisted inside out to keep up appearances. None of the mere mortals on the team could teleport without some kind of cramping or muscle stiffness. Even Batman had puked once. And so far, no amount of Kryptonian, Thanagarian, or Shi'ar technical modifications had worked out the bugs.

So the very fact that Black Canary was willing to use the damn thing to beam home to Gotham was a pretty strong indication of just how much she wanted to get the hell out of Japan.

It wasn't like this last mission had been a total disaster. Compared to a typical operation since Dinah Lance had first teamed up with Oracle, it had gone fine. Barbara had explained that S.T.A.R. Labs - Kyoto was tasked with the analysis of mystical artifacts. These were the eggheads convinced that magic was just science they didn't understand yet, filling their lab hours trying to make rational sense out of the occult and arcane. This meant that the Kyoto facility was chockfull of supernatural chotchkes as varied and dangerous as the Book of Eternity and the Cask of Ancient Winters. There was no telling what Norman Osborn had been planning to do with those kinds of resources, but it wasn't much of a surprise that Felix Faust hired Elektra Natchios to breach the lab once H.A.M.M.E.R. was out of the picture...

Elektra wasn't the deadliest martial artist Black Canary had faced by a long shot, but Dinah was still recovering from the beat down she'd taken from her recently self-appointed nemesis, White Canary, which gave Natchios just enough of an edge. And the snobby little poser had been way too smug about the advantage, sticking with that whole tired stoic-silence-in-combat routine, which just pissed Dinah off. Honestly, was there anyone more preposterously pretentious than a Greek ninja assassin at war with the very warrior death cult that trained her? At least Lady Shiva had a sense of humor...

Black Canary managed to keep it together, but Elektra escaped. Granted, she escaped empty-handed, but Dinah didn't like leaving it like that. She knew that disciples of the Hand tended to stay well off the grid, but if anyone had a chance of finding a paper trail and tracking Natchios down, it was Oracle.

So Dinah wasn't really sweating that. It wasn't concern over Elektra that made her eager to get home. It was the phone call from Batman that made her so anxious. The Caped Crusader rarely called anybody, and when he did, it was short and to the point. Usually just a threat assessment and a set of coordinates. The message he'd left on Black Canary's voicemail, however, was downright disturbing.

Her communicator took a hit during the fight. Actually, it had been transformed into a puffer fish when Elektra had gotten her hands on the Staff of Arion for a hot second, but the less said about that the better. Standard protocol was for Oracle to leave instructions how to re-initiate contact on the secured JLA answering system she had set up for the League. Black Canary was checking her messages while a team from the Global Reaction Agency for Mysterious Paranormal Activity secured the location, and right after Barbara left her the new emergency contact number for her to call and check-in, there it was: a long, rambling message from the Dark Knight himself.

"Dinah, this is Bruce," he had said, which was her first red flag. The voicemail system was triple-encrypted and impossible to hack, so Canary had every confidence that whatever message she left for another Leaguer would remain private, but Bats had always been a paranoid nut. He'd never used his real name before. "I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to catch up since my return, but I've had my hands full. I know that's no real excuse, and I'm sorry." An apology? Seriously? This was too much... "I understand that you're taking care of some business abroad, but I'm worried about Barbara," he went on to say. "She's pushing herself too hard with this Osborn vendetta. She won't hear it from me. I don't know. Maybe she still thinks she has to prove herself in my eyes, but you're her friend. I'm hoping you can talk some sense into her. Please..."

When Green Arrow died and came back, Dinah really thought the experience had changed him. She was certain Ollie had realized what really mattered in life, and maybe the two of them would finally have a real chance at happiness. But within a few months of his miraculous resurrection, Oliver Queen was up to his old horndog tricks behind her back... That's when she decided that death didn't really change anything. So the idea that it had some kind of radical impact on Batman of all people was the absolute limit. If Dinah thought anyone could go to hell and back without blinking, it'd be Bruce Wayne. When he announced this Batman Inc. thing, everyone figured this was going to be his excuse to drop the whole vapid playboy façade entirely and fully embrace his grim grittiness.

No one, absolutely no one, thought he was going to get in touch with his feelings. Hell, Wonder Woman was the only one who thought he had feelings that could be gotten in touch with in the first place. But it was like his heart had grown three sizes or something! Dinah could just imagine him carving the turkey at next month's League/Society Thanksgiving dinner, telling everyone in attendance how thankful he was for bulk rate black leather this year, and she shuddered to think.

If the goddamn Batman could actually display some human concern and genuine affection without the usual back-handed compliment or hidden agenda, Black Canary could rearrange her molecules for a few seconds to check on her sister-in-arms. Especially since Oracle hadn't answered when she tried to call. Hopefully, Barbara had finally headed off for some shuteye, but Dinah wanted to make sure the poor girl hadn't passed out in front of the computer again...

Black Canary made contact with the Hall of Justice to arrange transport, and sure enough, when she materialized in Oracle's command center in Kord Tower, she found the hacker unconscious in front of that huge holographic display, slouched in her wheelchair, her glasses askew. It looked like Dinah was right, but when she went to wake Barbara up so she could sleep in her bed, Canary saw that her eyes were still open and there was a slick of drool sliding down Babs' cheek from the corner of this weird, sloppy smile on her face.

That's when Dinah started to panic.

*

It was a rude awakening. The disorienting kind where you don't quite remember where you left things in the waking world and your first thought is what the hell happened?

In her old life, this only really happened to Barbara when she dozed off in the middle of studying at the campus library only to be shaken awake by the night security guard. And then there were those few times a girlfriend or two actually managed to lure her out on a Saturday night armed with tequila shots and the unassailable logic that "This is college!" and if Babs didn't get out every once in a while she was doing it wrong...

After she became Batgirl, however, these awkward awakenings happened a little more frequently. Mostly because she got knocked out more often. During her probationary period in the Caped Crusade, the Dynamic Duo had been a little too eager to dole out the bat-sleeping gas for those little jaunts to and from the Batcave. To say nothing of the fact that you weren't really a seasoned crime-fighter until you'd been brained by some crazy asshole only to come to dazed and confused in an elaborate deathtrap. This was old hat to Babs... which is why she realized that something was wrong the moment her eyes fluttered open.

For starters, she was naked. Barbara didn't make a habit of sleeping in the nude, because she was an actual woman and her life wasn't one of little Dickie Grayson's sordid, hormone-fueled fantasies. The more pressing matters, however, were the hand idly squeezing her boob and the semi-hard-on poking her hip with its oily tip.

It all started to come back to her.

Spider-Man. She'd come here looking for him and then one thing had led to another, which is why she had a teenager unconscious beneath her in the guest room.

Barbara had to get him up and out. They couldn't stay here. There was too much at stake...

Don't panic, she told herself. She was freaking out for no reason. Yes, she needed to wake the guy, Spider-Man... His name was Peter he'd said, right? But as she thought on it now, it's not like they'd done anything wrong.

Getting him up proved easy enough. She brushed his dick with her lips and that did the trick. Hey, she just needed him conscious. There was no reason he couldn't enjoy it.

"Oh daaaaamn," he whimpered. "Nuh-nobody's ever...."

Geez, I think I took his cherry last night, Barbara worried, and this flush rose up through her chest. She wasn't sure if it was horror or pride... And then the wickedest thought crossed her mind.

"Stand up," she ordered, and he looked at her, confused. "Off the bed," she explained.

The groggy teenager tumbled onto the floor and she followed after, landing in front of the nightstand. He's just this young puppy, she realized, kneeling before him expectantly. He's just this dumb, adorable puppy. He eventually got the idea and stood up. Barbara dove right in, grabbing his ass and yanking him forward so she could resume lovingly kissing his tip. She just couldn't help it. She allowed herself one deep, tender lick into his dickhole, salty with pre-cum, and he floundered back into the bedside table.

She gently grasped him at the base of his dick with just her thumb and index finger. She didn't tug on his cock, merely angling it up toward her face. His fingers laced through her hair as she nibbled his crown and his grip tightened when she rubbed his cockhead back and forth with her lips. His hips rolled forward and his prick briefly tickled her throat. She pulled back, then dove forward again, eagerly bobbing the length of his cock with gusto until it throbbed and she forced herself to slow down. She had to draw this out for him, so she went back to treating him with just her tongue. His dick throbbed again, but he understood, releasing her hair and leaning back, letting her set the pace.

She favored his pecker with a few sweeping licks before she engulfed him again, completely in control. Barbara played Peter's prick like a fiddle. Well, maybe more like a sax... She knew when to back off because he was about to lose it. Sometimes, slowing down was enough, but there were times she just had to lay off completely, waiting for his boiling lust to simmer before orally reclaiming his manhood. When she thought he could handle it, Babs sucked just hard enough for her cheeks to cave in on his cock and it swelled, meeting her heat with his.

By the time she decided he was ready for the big finish, Peter was practically shaking with need. She shoved his dick from her mouth with her tongue so she could work his balls, anointing them with long, slow flourishes before sucking one outright. She hummed around his nut and it jerked between her soft, wet lips.

Barbara let the testicle pop free as she fondled his shaft.

"Ah! Ah! I... I ...can't..." Peter groaned, eyes screwed shut, fighting to hold back.

"Yes, you can," she told him in a lusty whisper before drawing him into her mouth once more.

"Oh! HAH!" he cried out. "I... I'm going to..."

"Where do you want to cum?" she asked him. Barbara had never asked a guy something like that in her life. It was too indelicate. Too sluttish and lewd. And honestly, if you invited a guy to choose, you were opening yourself to god knows what. Somehow she figured she was safe enough here. She doubted he was going to ask to smother her face with his man-cream. Right then, though, she might have let him. There was something so thrilling about this... about him... "Tell me where," she implored, almost more to his prick than to the boy himself. The way it billowed out at her, she knew Peter could feel her hot breath. She looked up into his eyes, searching for his answer, but he didn't have words. "Do you want to cum in my mouth?" she suggested, lightly grasping his tight balls. He just nodded.

She realized then, what made all this different. This was the first time in her sex life she wasn't just going with the flow and seeing where it took her. She was in charge.

"Cum for me, Peter," she demanded, sticking out her pretty pink tongue and tapping his dick on its warm, damp surface.

He didn't need any more enticement.

"Oh, yessss!" he hissed, a thick rope of spunk bursting into her mouth. He trembled before her, spewing another seminal salvo as his knees buckled and he slumped against the nightstand. Barbara followed him down to the floor, doing her best to keep his spurting rod between her lips because she couldn't afford the mess. She kept at it, slurping and sucking load after load as his balls spasmed in her hand.

"S-sorry," he huffed once he was spent.

"Don't be," she mumbled around a mouthful of cock and cum before sucking the last lingering glob from his dickhole. She sat up and back from him then, making a big show of swallowing, complete with a little gulp.

"Good morning to you, too," Peter grinned as she crawled toward him.

"Feel free to make it up to me," she teased, cuddling into him.