In Gotham City, neon signs were dying insects that cast a sickly red glow over the wet asphalt. The shop he went to was no different, particularly because it had no one name. It was owned by two men that wanted to take advantage of the system. Trying to be a "digital food store", whatever that meant, while still being a traditional pizza place.
The pizza delivery man of said shop pulled his car into the front parking spot. His mind kept replaying flashes of the day so far: Zatanna's dazed smile as she shrieked and called out, "CUMMIIING~!" — and Rachel's dark, triumphant eyes while he was being magically milked dry. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel for a second, just breathing.
'Get it together. This is real life. This is work.'
His balls ached, man. How could they not with how many times he nutted?
He pushed open the door and the first thing he heard was a laugh. A rich, throaty, feminine laugh that did not belong here with other laughing men.
Tony and Gino, his bosses of three years, were behind the cash register like eager schoolboys. And with her ass jutting toward the pizza guy was a fine, toned, Latina ass.
Absolute Catwoman must have changed since he last saw her. She was in a jumpsuit, form-fitting and zipped down to a daring plunge that showcased her braless breasts. He couldn't see it from his angle, he was too occupied by her ass, but he knew she was braless and she was letting her bosses know. A full, crimson-painted lips turned toward the man that just entered: the pizza guy.
"Ah…" Selina surprisingly didn't say anything.
"Ah! Finally!" Gino boomed, his voice louder, more… Italian than usual. He spread his arms. "Our star delivery boy returns! What took you so long!?"
"We were just getting acquainted with a new applicant," Tony said, his gaze firmly locked on the Latina's tits. He too sounded off.
The woman pushed off the desk and gasped dramatically. She walked like it was a stage. "So you're the delivery man." She stopped just inches from him, looking up through her lashes. "I've heard such interesting things."
"Uh." What the hell was going on? Why was Selina pretending not to know him? He glanced at his bosses. They were beaming, utterly enraptured. "What's going on?"
"A new business arrangement!" Tony declared, clapping his hands. "Selina here wants to apply as a delivery man! And frankly, we've been considering it!"
"R-really?"
Finally! Another person! But, wait, this was Selina. Looking down at her, he wondered if this might actually impede on his work rather than help it. Those batting lashes weren't helping either.
"Correction: she's been hired," Gino added, as if announcing a royal decree. "We've cleared a space too."
Selina reached out and idly straightened the collar of the pizza guy's shirt, her gloved fingers brushing his neck. "Your bosses were so generous. And so… persuadable." She shot a glance back at them, and both men practically swooned.
It was then the pizza guy really looked at them. They were Tony and Gino. They were his bosses.
He squinted. 'Right?'
Tony was the one with the receding hairline while Gino had the full luscious black hair. Tony had the thick mustaches; Gino was clean shaven. The way they held themselves though… Tony usually slouched. Now he was puffing his chest out. Gino was normally a man of few words. Now he was gesticulating like a concert conductor. And their accents… they'd always had a touch of Brooklyn-Italian, but now it was laid on thick, like stage dialect.
"It's just…" the pizza guy started, confused.
"Hm?" Selina leaned closer. "What's wrong, dear?"
"Spit it out, son!" Tony encouraged, still smiling like a fool.
'Tony and Gino…why are you two so…different?'
They were different. It was a gut feeling, it was an instinct. The men he knew bitched about the Mets and the price of flour. They didn't act with such gusto and cockiness. They were often cynical about Gotham City.
A cold, ridiculous suspicion uncoiled in his gut. But it was so ridiculous that he quickly discarded it. The thought was insane. The shop was the same. The grease-stained walls, the crack in the tile floor by the sink, the faded poster of the Venetian canals Tony's ex-wife had put up years ago, it was all identical. The same.
The pizza guy decided he was just tired. Rachel had done some ridiculous things to him after all. Seeing things after a world-rocking sexual and magical ordeal probably showed he was still normal and not a secret demigod or alien.
He shook his head, pushing the paranoia down. "Yeah. Sorry. Long night. You're right."
"See?" Selina turned her triumphant smile back to the men. They loved to see it. "All settled."
"Excellent!" Gino boomed. He skipped over and clapped the pizza guy on the shoulder. "Now, we have wonderful news! And a wonderful opportunity for you!"
Tony followed after his co-owner and pulled a long, sealed envelope from his back pocket. "We are expanding! Gino, he is going to Metropolis! To scout locations for a Gino's Pizza franchise near the Galaxy Communications building!"
"And Tony," Gino cut in, puffing out his chest, "is going to the great New York City! Both of us will be gone for one month. Perhaps longer!"
They both looked at him, their expressions suddenly serious, but still with that strange, theatrical flair. "Which means," Tony said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "the shop is in your hands, capisce?"
"Everything," Gino added. "The orders, the inventory, the money. You are the manager now. And for this great responsibility…" Tony handed him the envelope.
The pizza guy took it and after some nudging, he tore it open. Inside was a check. A very, very large check.
'Two thousand dollars!?'
His eyes widened. "This is… this is…"
"An advance on your bonus!" Tony laughed. "For the longer hours! You will be working open to close, but you will be well compensated! And you will have…" He gestured grandly to Selina. "Bellissima assistance!"
Selina gave a little mock curtsy. "Thank you, sirs!"
"Aw, it's no problem, doll!"
"We leave tomorrow," Gino said. "So your new job starts tomorrow."
The pizza guy couldn't believe it. He smiled, he grabbed his shirt, and he asked, "I-I'm really being promoted?"
"Well, consider it more of an assistant manager role but yes." Tony nodded. "You are being promoted!"
What a fucking day. Zatanna, Rachel, now a promotion!?
'Magic really does exist,' he thought to himself giddily.
Both men were suddenly hugging him, slapping his back, whispering "Lucky bastard!" in his ear with that exaggerated accent, and then they were out the back door, into a waiting yellow cab.
The door swung shut, leaving him alone in the sudden silence with the leather-clad woman from another Earth.
Selina let out a long, slow breath. "So. Those guys are your bosses?" She chuckled, walking over to the desk and hopping up to sit on it, crossing her legs. The movement was effortlessly sensual. "They were so easy. A little flutter of the eyelashes, a little… leaning." She demonstrated, arching her back slightly, making her chest strain against the zipper of her jumpsuit. "Men are all the same, in any universe. Predictable creatures of appetite."
He was still holding the massive check, staring at the door. "Y-yeah…" Too predictable. He wasn't sure if they were that irresponsible. It was like they had changed since the last time he had seen them, which was admittedly weeks ago. Was there something in Metropolis and New York that set them off?
"You seem troubled," she observed, her head tilting. "Was it something I said?"
"It's just… they were acting weird. Almost like they weren't Tony and Gino…"
The smile on Selina's face didn't falter, but her green eyes sharpened. "...? They most certainly are your bosses, love. They had the keys and got in from the back. It freaked me out since I was sleeping near. I managed to sneak out and come back in from the front as a babe trying to find a job. They showed me their driver's licenses, business certificates, tax forms. The whole tedious song and dance. They are most definitely your bosses."
The pizza guy's eyes flicked to her. This was Selina Kyle, a professional thief. She could tell real from forgery better than anyone.
So why did he still think there was something off?
"All men act weird around me, dear. It's part of my charm." Her legs lifted and brushed up against his crotch. "Now…want to go to sleep in the back?"
"S-Selina…"
She grabbed him by the chin and gently turned him. "I've been stuck in this dreary new Earth for so long now. No way home. No familiar faces. I thought it'd be frustrating but things are going so well for me." Her other hand came up and pressed flat against his chest. "A girl has needs. And I have a very distinct memory of what you're packing under those pants."
His face flushed. "Selina…c-come on…"
"Shhh." Her finger came up to press against his lips. "The bosses are gone. It's just us. And this big, empty shop." She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "It was just a date. I bet you're soooo backed up without me~!"
He fucked Zatanna for ten hours.
He got milked nearly a hundred times in a twenty minute drive.
Somehow, he was hard in an instant.
"We… we gotta focus on work," he managed, his voice strained. "A-and teach you and stuff…"
Selina pulled back, studying his face. "All work and no play…" she teased, but she dropped her hand. "Fine. You're the boss now." She gave his chest a final pat. "But tonight, you're showing me how to work the oven. And I expect a very thorough tutorial."
Man. She didn't mean to give such a hot innuendo. It was just a casual remark. She wanted to learn. She did.
But when she said it like that?
'Fuck it. The night is still young.'
He smacked that Latina ass, earning a yelp, and wrapped her waist with his arms.
…
…
…
PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—!
"CUMMIIING~!!"
Selina Kyle was his fucking bitch. Absolute Catwoman? Please, more like Absolute Slut. She was a trembling whore beneath him, her slick back pressed into the cold, flour-dusted surface of the prep table. The pizza guy drove into her, over and over, the PLAP-PLAP-PLAP of his balls and hips against her booty a counterpoint to her shrieks.
'These sluts! Always emptying my balls! Always making me hard!'
PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—!
Now, there was no tease. No games. He had her legs hooked over his forearms, pressed back toward her shoulders, opening her up completely in the mating press. He could only see only her expression. He couldn't see but felt her pussy swallowing his thickness, her inner lips clinging to his monster dick with every withdrawal.
"YES! FUCK ME LIKE A BITCH! LIKE THE LAST WHORE!" Selina screamed, her dark hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. Her green eyes were glazed, unfocused, seeing only him, feeling only it. "I'M YOUR SUBMISSIVE WHORE! FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME!"
Each thrust bottomed out in her. She was so deep, so fucking tight. God, he wasn't going to stop. Never!
"Oh god, oh fuck, it's so big," she babbled, the arrogance utterly melted away, replaced by a worship so profound it was obscene. "It's an Absolute Cock! My Absolute Cock! NNNGH! I can feel it in my fucking throat! DEEPER! YES, DEEPER! MMM!"
He leaned forward, changing the angle, and she howled. Selina absolutely climaxed. See, for him, what other men struggled with, he did with ease.
"THERE! RIGHT FUCKING THERE!" Her back arched impossibly higher, her nails—sharp even without the gloves—scrabbling for purchase on the stainless steel. "DON'T STOP! FUCK YOUR SLUT! FUCK HEERRR~!!"
Her pussy claimed him. Her pussy was speaking to him. It clenched rhythmically, as if trying to memorize every ridge and vein. 'This is it,' the tightness seemed to scream. 'The biggest. The best. The only.'
"I'M NOTHING!" Her tears cut through her smudged mascara. "I'M A WRETCHED SLUT! YOUR TOY, A SEX DOLL! FUCK YOUR DOLL!"
'How the hell did Batman let this go?' The thought was a flash of male incredulity. This responsive, this vocal, this needy creature—a Latina goddess reduced to a begging, cream-dripping mess on a pizza prep table—and the Dark Knight had broken up with her? The man was clearly insane.
"GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE ME YOUR HUGE COCK!" Her hips churned beneath him, doing her damndest to meet his thrusts. She couldn't. "I WANT TO BE YOUR WHORE, YOUR PROSTITUTE. DO WHATEVER YOU WANT WITH ME!"
He was close. The pressure was coiling at the base of his hefty balls. He wondered if this stamina and lust was an aftermath from the spell Raven gave; whatever it was, Selina's internal grip felt like a thousand velvet tongues. Whatever it was, he still had plenty in the tank.
He grunted and slammed home.
"Cumming! I'm cumming, you slut!"
He felt it flooding her, hot and claiming, and the sensation of his cum spurting deep inside her clenching channel made his vision whiten at the edges.
"OH, YES! YES! CUM INSIDE ME! I WANT TO BE FULL OF YOUR CUM!" Absolute Catwoman's pussy went into agonizing, rhythmic spasms around his still-pulsing cock, squeezing every last drop from him. "FILL YOUR SLUT! MARK ME! MMMPHF!"
Her screams died into choked, pleasured sobs. Her body, so tense a moment before, went utterly limp. Her legs slid from his arms, falling to the table with a soft thud. All the while he pumped her. Spurt, spurt, spuuurt! Pump, pump, pump!
Her eyes fluttered shut, a blissed-out, ruined smile on her swollen lips.
The pizza guy slumped over her. Beneath him, Selina was out cold, passed out from the sheer, fucked-out intensity of it.
Dammit, he was going to have to clean this up before going home, wasn't he?
****
After a lengthy clean-up and carrying Selina to the backroom couch, the pizza guy went home.
His prior suspicions lit up again. Everything was fine. There was nothing intrinsically wrong. No huge inconsistency. The roads were the same, the sky was the same. This was HIS Gotham City.
Except why was it that when he went to his apartment, his apartment key didn't fit. He had to go downstairs and ask the land lady for the spare. Knowing her tenets by heart, not to mention it was late, she dismissively handed the keys over to him.
His place was the same. Nothing changed. So why did his apartment keys not fit? Why were his bosses different?
'Am I going crazy? Yeah, have to be. Sometimes, shit just happens.'
…so why didn't his keys fit? That part really bothered him. They were the same keys too!
The pizza guy arrived at work thinking maybe he was going crazy. Another universe sounded possible too, but come on. When could that have happened? When Zatanna used her magic? But she was a pro! There was no way she'd mess up that badly, right?
That night, he slept like a baby, only because he was oh-so drained. He showed up at 7 AM, key in hand and questions brewing. Before he could use it, the door swung inward.
Hands on her hips, smirking, was not a woman in leather. This Latina wore a too-large, borrowed Gino's Pizza polo shirt, the navy fabric hanging off one smooth, tanned shoulder. It was knotted at her waist, exposing a strip of toned stomach. The shirt's neckline was stretched, falling loosely to offer a breathtaking view of the upper swells of her breasts. She'd paired it with what looked like very expensive, very tight black leggings that hugged her hips and ass. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, curly strands escaping to frame her face.
"You're late," Selina said, but her smile was bright and eager.
"I'm early," he corrected, stepping inside. The smell of bleach and lemon cleaner hit him. The place was spotless. The floors gleamed, the counters sparkled, the front glass was streak-free. "Whoa. Did you…?"
"I got bored," she shrugged, then immediately stepped into him, her arms looping around his neck. "Mmm, good morning." She peppered his jaw and neck with quick, warm kisses. "Sleep well? Dream of me?"
His hands automatically found her waist, the soft, stolen fabric of the polo under his palms. "Selina, shouldn't I, um, teach you the ropes first?"
"I know, I know," she sighed dramatically, pulling back just enough to look up at him. Her eyes danced with mischief. "Teaching. But a proper greeting is important for workplace morale." Her hands slid down his chest, over his stomach, and her fingers deftly traced the growing bulge in his pants. "Mmm-hmm. Just as I thought. You were lonely. Poor, neglected thing."
The opposite—yesterday, he had never nutted so much.
"Selina," he groaned, his resolve crumbling.
She laughed and gave him one last, firm squeeze before stepping back entirely. "Alright, alright. I'll be good. For now." She turned on her heel, the leggings doing absolutely nothing to hide the perfect, heart-shaped sway of her rear as she walked toward the kitchen. "Come on, Boss. The dough isn't going to proof itself."
The workday was a strange, domestic rhythm. He had never had a coworker before aside from his two bosses. Teaching someone rather than being teached was a new experience. He showed her the basics: the industrial mixer, the walk-in cooler where the prepped ingredients lived, the massive oven with its stone deck. Selina was a quick study. A clever girl that learned, nodded along, and copied things fast even though her knowledge of pizza-making was non-existent.
"So I just… throw the flour in?" Selina asked, peering into the giant mixing bowl.
"Measure the flour. Then the water, yeast, salt…"
"All this for minimum wage? Thank god I became a thief," she joked, but she watched his every move intently.
Once the first batches of dough were set to rise, they fell into a natural division of labor. "Okay, so this pizza stuff, I still need some time to get the hang of it."
"H-huh? Oh yeah, I guess so."
"And I can't create the pie, or anything else on the menu."
"Mhm."
Selina put hands on her hips. "But I can deliver it."
"Wait, um, I do the delivery—"
"Come on, honey, it's more efficient this way."
"That's…true." He stroked his chin. He did well by himself, but it was getting to that time of the season. Spring was nearly over and when summer came into full swing, without Gino or Tony, things were going to get tough for a one-man show.
"But, um, you don't have a driver's licence, do you?"
"Technically—"
"So it's illegal," he pointed out, cocking his head innocently.
"Baaaby, I can drive," Selina insisted. Her nose wrinkled slightly. "Even if it is a dingy little box."
"Shouldn't you be trying to convince me better? Calling it dingy isn't nice…"
"Oh. Right." Convincing him better consisted of grabbing his arm and pushing her boobs against it. "Pretty pleeeease. I promise I won't get caught by the cops." She batted her lashes. "Really~!"
Honestly? Pretty effective. The boobs were doing most of the heavy lifting though.
"Okay, okay, but…the addresses. They can be tricky and you did say this isn't exactly like your Gotham City."
"It's ninety percent the same. I'll be fine."
"Yeah, but still. If the cops stop you, they'll run the car's licence and might take away points…"
"Really? That's what you're worried about?" Selina then blinked and murmured, "Right. Pizza guy. Not a thief."
He didn't get it. Demerit points were important!
Selina met his gaze again with a grin. "Well, at least for today, I'll take the deliveries. Come on, it'll be fine. Just one day."
"Just one day…"
"Maybe two!"
"...."
"Three?"
He sighed. She was pushing it and yet…she was also pushing her boobs. The audacity. "Fine."
Her audacity worked. Selina pecked him on the cheek. "Thank you, dear~!"
Yeah, yeah. He tried not to blush.
The morning passed into the afternoon. Selina was great at delivering. She'd vanish with a hot bag, and return seemingly minutes later, cash in hand, barely winded. He suspected she wasn't exactly obeying traffic laws. Between orders, she'd hover near him as he stretched and sauced dough. She'd lean over his shoulder to watch, her breath tickling his ear. She'd "accidentally" brush against him, her hip against his, her hand on his arm as she reached for a cheese cup.
"This city," Selina remarked during one lull, wiping down the already-clean counter. "It's… identical. To my Gotham, I mean. The streets, the landmarks… even the potholes on Kane Street."
"Well, that's good."
"But I do notice tiny differences. The cops aren't as terrifying and there aren't as many criminals either."
"Really?"
"I'm speaking in Gotham terms. Not saying that it's New York or anything."
"Ahhh." He smiled. "Well, I'm glad you feel it's home."
"Yeah." A shadow passed over her expressive face, a glimpse of the displacement she felt, before she buried it under another sly smile. "And the pizza's better here."
The phone rang. It was almost evening. The pizza guy wiped his floury hands on his apron and grabbed the receiver. "Gino's Pizza, what can we get you?"
There was a pause on the line, filled with the faint sound of breathing. Then a voice, smoky and smooth as aged whiskey, flowed through the earpiece. "Mmm… is this the young man who delivers?"
"Yeah, that's me. What can I get for you?"
"Something… special." The woman's voice hummed. I have a craving. But I'm afraid I'm very particular. I only want it delivered by a certain… type of person."
A warning tingle went down his spine. This felt different from a normal order.
'Is this an ASMR prank caller?'
But if it wasn't…then might as well be polite.
"Okay, ma'am, um, what's the order?"
"A large. Half… forbidden fruit, half… mystic mushroom, and it must be you who brings it. No one else. A man with your…aura."
The pizza guy blinked. "My… what?"
"My address is 13 Arcane Way. The shop is called Hokus & Pokus Occult Curioso. You can't miss it. I'll be waiting."
Click!
He held the dead phone for a second before hanging up slowly.
Selina appeared from the back, pulling on a light jacket over her knotted polo. "Another one? I'm headed out anyway." She saw his expression. "What's wrong?"
"That order… it was weird. They asked for me specifically. Said they only wanted a 'man like me' to deliver."
Selina's feline eyes narrowed. "That's strange." She stretched, a full-body, luxurious titty-jiggling movement that made the knotted polo shirt ride up further. She refused to buy a bra, it seemed. "But I am exhausted. Four-wheeled vehicles are so… pedestrian. They lack grace." She walked over to him, placing a hand on his chest. "You should go. It's probably just some lonely witch wanting a peek at the famous pizza stud." She winked. "Be careful. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And that's a very short list."
She gave him a quick, biting kiss on the lips, then sashayed out the back door, leaving him alone with the cryptic order.
He made the pizza quickly. 'Forbidden fruit? Mystic mushroom?' They just had pepperoni and mushroom. Was it a code? The address, the shop name… it all screamed "magic user." After Zatanna and Raven, he was developing a serious radar for that vibe.
'Or maybe it's a crazy ASMR lady.'
You never know with Gotham.
The evening had settled into a deep, purple dusk by the time he parked his car on Arcane Way, a narrow, cobblestoned lane tucked away in Gotham's old city. The buildings leaned close together. There it was in the smack dab middle of a bunch of dark buildings: Hokus & Pokus Occult Curioso. The sign was a faded purple, with a painted eye that seemed to follow him.
Bringing pizza here felt weird. He glanced to his right and saw an emo girl walking in the other direction. He could see a knife pressed to her backpocket. And in the nearest alleyway, he could see smoke that most definitely smelled like weed.
Well, this was Gotham City.
The door to Hokus & Pocus was already slightly ajar. He pushed it open, a little bell tinkling not with a ding, but with a shimmering chime.
The interior was a claustrophobic wonderland of the weird. Cramped shelves overflowed with yellowed skulls, twisted roots in jars, tarnished talismans, and stacks of crumbling books bound in strange leathers. The air was thick with the scent of incense, old paper, and something else… something like the air after a match was lit. He held the pizza box awkwardly in front of him, a greasy cardboard shield.
"Hello?" he called out.
"In the back, delivery man," the sultry voice from the phone floated from behind a beaded curtain. "Follow the energy."
'The energy? Uhh…'
Okay, whatever. He navigated the narrow aisle, past a display of disturbingly realistic crystal balls and a stuffed raven that tracked him with glassy eyes. He pushed through the beads, pretty much following his instincts.
The back room was larger, cleaner, and less cramped. A large, darkwood desk dominated the space, covered in neat stacks of tarot cards, candles, and small, ornate boxes. Books lined the walls.
'Isn't this a shop? Where's the cash register?
There wasn't one. There was, however, a small, crackling fireplace far behind the table where the owner stood. When his gaze turned over to the fireplace and the light revealed a beauty with ink-black straighter than any. Like magic, it hung to the middle of her back. Her face was pale and serene, and wore large, golden hoop earrings with dangling stripes. Matching bracelets adorned her slender wrists. But his eyes were drawn, inevitably, to her dress. A dusky pink silk dress, it exposed her navel in a diamond-shape and, more provocatively, had a boob window showing the sides of her breasts.
They weren't the biggest pair of tits by a long shot, which was they weren't smooshed together or spilling out. They were just there.
She smiled as she saw him and approaching the table, he could fully see her side boobs in the window of her dress. "You found me. And you brought the offering." Her voice was even richer in person.
"Uh, yeah. One large, half pepperoni, half mushroom." He placed the box on a clear corner of her desk. The smell of pizza immediately began battling the incense. "That'll be, um, nineteen-fifty."
"I forgot to give my name, did I not? I am Madame Xanadu."
"Madame Xanadu." Sounded European. "Good to meet, madame."
She didn't move to get her purse. Instead, she glided closer. Her emerald eyes, they were a strange, luminous green like nothing he had seen. Supergirl's eyes, they were inhumane. These were human and yet…there was something to them.
Madame Xanadu studied him with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. "Payment is the least of my concerns. Please, sit."
"I'm okay standing. Got other deliveries."
"No, you don't," Madame Xanadu said softly, her smile never fading. "The flow of orders has paused. For now. Humor me."
"Where am I…?" Oh. Huh. What? There was a chair right behind him. Where did that come from?
Feeling unnerved, he slowly lowered himself into the plush pink chair. It was incredibly soft. She took her own seat behind the desk, steepling her fingers. The firelight far behind her became stronger and shone over her beautiful green eyes.
"You see," she began, her gaze holding his, "I am what you might call a mentalist. A psychic. A reader of fates and energies." She leaned forward slightly and he fucking swore he saw her nipples. "And the energy around you, young man… is absolutely fascinating."
He just stared. "Oh, okay." The pizza sat between them, steaming gently. "I, uh, get that a lot." Raven said something like that.
Madame Xanadu's emerald eyes stopped the conversation. It wasn't uncomfortable, weirdly enough. Was it a sex appeal? Could hot women like her and Selina just get away with anything?
"You seem… parched," Madame Xanadu said finally. "From your labors. A drink?"
He hadn't been paid yet. And, well, it seemed rude to refuse. "Sure. Thanks."
She rose and went to a small, ornate cabinet. The self-proclaimed psychic produced a crystal decanter out of nothing and two glasses from the cabinet. As she poured a dark, amber liquid, she glanced over her shoulder.
The pizza guy resettled on the plush, high-backed armchair that hadn't been there a moment before. He swallowed, a chill that had nothing to do with the room temperature skittering down his spine.
'First this chair, now this? Is this really another magic woman?'
Slowly, he sank into the chair. It was impossibly soft, seeming to cradle him.
The madame brought the drinks over, leaning across the desk to place his glass before him. Her tits were right there. The pizza guy could confirm—Madame Xanadu had pink nipples. He jerked his gaze up to her face, his cheeks heating.
Did she notice? An amused smile touched her lips as she settled back into her own chair, taking a slow sip. "Now. To business. Or rather, to fate." She set her glass down and reached for a deck of cards from a stack on her desk. They were larger than normal, the backs a deep purple with a silver eye design.
"Fate?"
"You are like nothing I have ever seen. It is strange. To call you a nexus is not inaccurate yet not enough. I wish to see what the cards whisper."
"Right. Um, I really just need to get paid for the pizza," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.
"It won't take long, my dear."
Well, shit. It won't take long. Rejecting it would just seem rude at this point. He took a gulp of the drink. Warm as it went down, it tasted like spicy honey. Spicy honey. Yeah, it was easily the weirdest drink he had ever had.
…but he didn't dislike it, so he drank some more.
Madame Xanadu smiled pleasantly. "Now that's relieving. Most tend to blanch at its taste."
"It's pretty good," the pizza guy said.
"It's good." She actually stopped shuffling. "That's…a first." Her smile widened. "I believe I may already be fond of you, young man."
"Oh, um, thanks."
She stopped shuffling. "First, a glimpse. For my own curiosity. And for your… preparedness." Her eyes flicked to him, that knowing look deepening. "Cut the deck."
Feeling like he was in a dream, he reached out and cut the cards. She laid out three in a simple row before him.
The first card made her hum. "The Ace of Wands. New beginnings. A spark of primal, creative fire. Virile potential." Her amber eyes lifted to his. "It speaks of a… tool. A source of power. One that is being awakened."
'My dick? I came so much yesterday and yet when I woke up, I still had a morning boner.' For literally every single day of his life, the pizza guy woke up with a morning boner. No matter the day before, no matter the exhaustion, his cock rose like a nation's flag. Was that normal? It was called a morning boner, so probably, right?
The second card she turned over was a man seated on a throne, a staff in his hand. "The King of Wands. The master of that fire. Charisma. Command. Natural authority." She tapped the card with a polished nail. "He is a figure of passion and will. He draws followers. He inspires… devotion."
She looked from the cards to him, her expression unreadable. "Fascinating. A perfect pairing. The raw gift and the one who must learn to wield it." She gathered the cards, stood, and walked around the desk. "Wait here."
Madame Xanadu moved toward a tall, wooden chest against the far wall. As she bent over to open it, the silk of her dress pulled taut across her back and hips.
'Oh, fuck.'
The front was cut, so of course the back had its fair share of cuts too. The hot black-haired madame had a classical hourglass figure, loved by every fucking cut of her dress. The fabric hugged the small of her back before flaring out over the lush, round curves of her ass. It was toned and sculpted—the kind of rear that belonged to an actress, not a mystic in a dusty shop.
Nations would have fought over this toned ass. It wasn't jiggling, it was elegant. It was grippable. A man could slap it, feel some jiggle, then squeeze it.
The pizza guy took another hurried drink, forcing his eyes to the fire.
Madame Xanadu returned a moment later, carrying a small, lacquered box. She placed it on the desk in front of him. "Open it."
He lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on black velvet, were three items. His brain took a second to process them.
First, a strip of condoms. 'H-h-huh!?' But not just any condoms. The packaging was black and gold, and the word "XXXL" was printed in bold, unmistakable letters. A whole strip of them.
He felt a flush burn from his neck to his hairline. "M-Madame Xanadu? Um, uh…"
"Provisions," Madame Xanadu said smoothly, as if handing out giant condoms was a perfectly normal part of a psychic reading. Next to them was a small, crystal vial containing a few iridescent pink pills. "And these. For your… partners. They regulate fertility, enhance sensitivity, and increase stamina. Purely optional, of course."
The pizza guy's jaw dropped. 'Enhance sensitivity? And stamina—no, wait, what am I thinking?'
"And these," Madame Xanadu said, pointing to the final items: three old-fashioned, skeleton keys of tarnished brass, each on a separate ring. "You will need these. For doors you have not yet found."
"For what?"
"I do not know," Madame Xanadu admitted, her serene mask slipping for just a moment, revealing a flicker of genuine puzzlement. "The vision was clear on the first two items. These keys… they were simply there. A voice—not my own—told me to give them to the man with the Ace and King of Wands. So I am. The future is a tangled thread. I only see the knots."
"Um, a-are you sure you don't have the wrong guy?"
She closed the box and pushed it toward him. "Take it. Consider it part of your payment. The other part…" She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a crisp fifty-dollar bill, laying it over the pizza box. "Keep the change."
He was reeling. He slowly took the box, the condoms feeling like they were burning a hole through the lacquer. He stood, tucking the box awkwardly under his arm, grabbing the money. "This is…um, a little weird but thank you for the gesture."
'I guess.'
"It is my honour," Madame Xanadu agreed, standing as well. She came around the desk again, stopping close to him. Her gaze was intense, searching his face. "Mm. It's so strange. Just what is it about you?" She reached out, and for a heart-stopping second, he thought she would touch him. But her hand stopped just short of his cheek. "You are a flame, delivery man. And you are attracting very beautiful, very dangerous moths. Be wise. And be prepared."
Madame Xanadu dropped her hand and stepped back, the moment broken. "The way out is the way you came. Good evening."
Dismissed. He nodded mutely, turned, and navigated the cluttered aisles of the shop, the little box feeling heavier with every step. The dissonant bell chimed as he pushed out into the cool night air of Arcane Way. He opened his car and tossed the box inside.
What a strange fucking interaction.
He got to the driver's side and sat down. He didn't immediately turn on the engine. He looked down at the box: XXXL condoms, magic fertility pills, and mysterious keys.
'Be prepared.'
He got in his car, started the engine, and sat for a moment, the events of the last 24 hours crashing over him. Zatanna, Raven, Selina, and now a psychic with C-cup tits and a heart-shaped ass handing out supernatural sex supplies.
He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb, the box sitting on the passenger seat like a promise—or a warning.