Zatanna’s Defilement in the Clutches of the Drug Lord

by Scarlet

WARNING: This story contains sexual situations and sexual violence (nc, MF). It is to be read by adults only. If this sort of material is not to your liking, then read no further.
Credits: Zatanna, Batgirl, Wonder Woman, and Supergirl are DC characters used in this not-for-profit fan-fiction; no Trademark infringement is intended. The rest of the characters are my own. The designs for some of the devious devices used in the story were provided by The Sexecutor.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Zatara,” the older woman behind the large desk says softly and politely as I seek to find a comfortable position on the brown leather couch I have just been told to lie upon. I watch her push her horn-rimmed glasses back against the bridge of her nose, and then fiddle with the knob of her blonde bun. The woman’s beauty queen face is flushed with excited anticipation, and her skirted legs tightly crossed. No doubt J’onn J’onzz, as the Justice League’s Chief of Operations, has provided Dr. Elizabeth Janko, psychoanalyst to the superheroes of the world, with the notes made during my debriefing a few days ago. “I do believe this is our first chance to talk,” Dr. Janko continues, carefully maintaining her professional tone, “which is remarkable considering the length of your superheroine career. It is good to finally meet you, Zatanna.”

“Yes, well, I’ll return your greetings while wishing I’d postponed the need for our chat, Miss Janko,” I reply with a sheepish look on my face and embarrassment in my blue eyes. “I’ve tried to be careful not to develop a long list of arch enemies with grounds for grudge matches, unlike some of my teammates. Additionally, my magical abilities have generally proven to be an effective deterrent to most attacks against me. However, it appears prudence and ability can only keep a girl out of trouble for so long.”

“Yes, I see,” the fit and trim green-eyed blonde in her early 40s, who is obviously trying to mask her own startlingly good looks with the silly glasses on her fine-featured face and the frilly blouse covering the her adequate curves, acknowledges as she reads one of the pages from my case file folder. “You’re a sorceress who, as a member of the species Homo magi, has mastered the art of mnemonic incantation. The list of abilities you can give yourself through your spoken spells is incredibly long, and it says here that many of your teammates consider you to be the most powerful member of the Justice League.”

I blush at the compliment, and then my blush deepens as she looks up to examine me with what can only be described as leering eyes, as she proclaims, “Well, Homo magi or not, you look like most any other 24-year-old athletically fit young lady should, and, obviously, your species’ genetic makeup must be incredibly close to that of Homo sapiens. You are a very attractive girl, Zatanna, with those shining ebony tresses framing your lovely blue-eyed face, those long and shapely fishnet-stocking-covered legs, and those bodacious D-cups that look ever so close to popping out of that top of yours. No wonder you were voted the fourth sexiest superheroine by that superhero fanzine buyers’ guide last year.”

The psychiatrist giggles as I struggle to pull my ill-fitting tuxedo closed in front of my torso, while fighting to staunch the prideful grin that seeks to form on my beet red face. “Th…th…thank you, Dr. Janko…for the…compliment,” I sputter while fiddling with my bow tie and glancing at the top hat I’ve placed on the nearby end table. I want to rush out of the room, but know that I must not. I need the psychotherapy that will begin with this session with Dr. Janko.

“I’ve made you uncomfortable with my compliments, Zatanna,” Dr. Janko acknowledges as she flashes a friendly smile at me. “I’m sorry about that. I must admit to being a bit of a superheroine fan, which is why I’ve chosen to specialize in metahuman psychology and psychiatry. That is also why you should be comfortable in telling me about everything that happened to you following your disappearance three and a half months ago. I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’ve been able to help girls of your ilk get past some pretty nightmarish things. Would you like to get started now?”

I nod, feeling a bit embarrassed, and can’t avoid the nervous frown forming on my face as I reply, “Yes, I know, and hope you’ll be able to help me too…to get past this.” I know that Dr. Janko is telling the truth. The Justice League has kept her on retainer ever since Green Arrow had killed members of a drug gang after finding Black Canary near death from rape and torture during the ‘Longbow Hunters’ affair. She had been brought in to help both Oliver Queen and Dinah Lance get past that awful event, and the Justice League to regain confidence in the emerald archer. “Should I summarize what happened, and then talk in more detail about the incidences you are most concerned about?”

“No, Zatanna, start at the beginning, with your abduction, and tell me in as much detail as possible what happened to you until you finally escaped,” Dr. Janko instructs as she picks up her pencil and notebook. “Make sure to tell me how you felt as it was happening, because that is what is important when it comes to prescribing your therapy. Then and only then will I know which way to proceed, both mentally and physically.”

I nod and swallow hard as she stares at me and my ill-fitting tuxedo, and admit, “Yes, well, there is no forgetting the latter is there. As you know, I make my living as a show girl who performs as a stage magician and escape artist. The clothes I’m almost always wearing are more an advertisement for my work than a superheroine costume. It’s a traditional illusionist and sleight of hand magic act coupled with some Houdini type stunts…never any real sorcery involved. Well, I was in Central America on a bus tour of coastal nightclubs with my stage hands when it happened. I had just relieved myself in the filthy restroom of an isolated Panamanian gas station when I felt a sharp sting in the back of my neck just above my bow tie…I now know it was from a drugged blowgun dart…so much for the most powerful Justice Leaguer theory…and the world went black.” I look at Dr. Janko. She’s busily making notes.

As I remember, and therefore relive, the beginning of my defilement, I explain in a hushed, quivering voice, “I awoke mostly naked on my knees on a slightly elevated platform that had bar like frames extending upward on either side to form a narrow stall. Well, maybe gradually became aware is more accurate than awoke. Anyhow, I gradually realized that my lower arms were bound behind me by double cuffs connected to a cross bar extending from one side of the stall to the other. My thighs and ankles were cuffed to the stall side frames as well, and I was forced to arch my back by a bracket around my neck, connected to the front upper corners of the stall frames, combined with another cross bar pressing downward into the small of my back. My bondage was made even more troubling by the hooks in my nose that extended to a bar above my head, and the end of a large tube that had been wedged into my anus.”

“I was still pretty hazy when I realized three things,” I declare with a frown on my face as a shiver runs down my spine. “Firstly, my bow tie and top hat were all that I had on. Secondly, the restraints had positioned me in a manner that forced my head up and my breasts outward and downward below me, and left my behind very vulnerable. Finally, it dawned on me as to why the word stall was what I was calling the semi-enclosure I was bound to; there was a pair of huge-breasted girls on either side of me being breast milked! I immediately tried to focus my mind on my sorcery as I enunciated ‘teleport home’ backwards. The muffled meaningless sounds that I heard brought one more, very troubling, realization. I was wearing a ball gag! My sorcery was unavailable to me!”

“How did this predicament make you feel, Zatanna,” Dr. Janko asks in a soft emotionless voice as she looks up from her notes with green eyes gleaming with interest.

“Helpless and afraid,” I shoot back at the psychiatrist, angry at her for asking a stupid question, “but the fear grew to terror as my mind cleared and I realized there were three men in the room as well. One of the men was wearing a white Armani suit, and beside him stood an old weather-beaten man in the traditional garb of the Indians from the Amazon Jungle. At that point, I didn’t care what the third man, behind me, looked like…and concentrated as hard as possible while saying ‘enog eb gag llaB’! Again I heard meaningless phphs! My stomach filled with butterflies as hope fled my soul, for I knew I was powerless before Manuel Rodriguez, a drug lord renowned for his cruelness and lack of respect for womankind, who had done such a terrible wrong to Wonder Woman not so long ago!”

“Yes, it was a terrible thing for Princess Diana to be forced to stand at the end of a dock with her breast tips in danger of being mutilated,” Dr. Janko acknowledges with a faraway look on her face. Then, with a start, she adds, “However, she was rescued before that happened, and has put the scary event behind her. Uhm…I just realized something. Earlier, you said you enunciated ‘teleport home’ backwards, rather than saying it backwards, but just now, you actually said ‘ball gag be gone’ backwards. I don’t understand.”

“I’m not wearing a ball gag, so the spell has nothing to work on,” I reply with unhidden irritation. “On the other hand….”

“Yes, I understand,” the blonde interrupts, more than a little red-faced. “Let’s get back to your story. What happened next?”

“The drug lord chuckled softly as he saw the fear fill my face, while his servant grinned from ear to ear,” I say as I tell myself not to take my troubles out on the blonde behind the desk, “and then he leaned forward and jovially said, ‘It is good that you are awake, Senorita Zatara. I am Manuel Rodriguez, but I can see you already know that, and that there can be little doubt as to why I am honored here at my hacienda by the presence of such a beautiful superheroine…yet another lovely superheroine. I am well aware of your membership in the Justice League. So you see, this is an honor I would rather not have. Now, what are we to do about this sad thing…this honor I would rather not have?’”

“I must admit, I was quaking in fear as the tall, dark-gray-haired man with hard brown eyes continued his monologue with only a hint of Spanish accent in his pronunciation,” I confess to Dr. Janko, blushing badly at the way I’m visibly shivering. “Rodriguez frowned as he gruffly announced ‘I must say that, after showing my hospitality, first to Wonder Woman, and then to Batgirl and Supergirl, I am stunned that I now must deal with yet another Justice League superheroine who dares to interfere with my business affairs. Now I must punish the lovely Zatanna in such a way as to discourage even more Justice Leaguers from interfering with my operations. What do you think, Magua, based on your research of Zatanna’s background? Shall we do to her as we did with Batgirl and Supergirl? I know! This one is an entertainer! Maybe we make her face not so pretty as well, no?’”

“Well, I almost peed myself, Dr. Janko,” I say as I remember the way my heart pounded and my head swam as I knelt before that terrible man, “while I shook my head vigorously, trying to let the drug lord know that I hadn’t been trying bring him to justice for his crimes. To my surprise, the old tongue-less Indian shook his head as well. Then, Magua opened his mouth and pointed his index finger inside it, before pointing at me, and surprise became abject terror. I spoke the teleport spell into my gag yet again, and then thrashed wildly in my stall. I was horrified that those two monsters might just take my tongue, as Wonder Woman told me that the drug lord had taken Magua’s…for a moment of indiscretion.”

Dr. Janko flashes a smile of reassurance at me as I frown at the memory of my terror, and then nods for me to continue, so I struggle to do so in a hushed, halting voice. “‘Yes, Magua,’ the drug lord replied to the crazed-looking Indian with a mean grin on his face, ‘that would take her weapon, as well as her means to support herself. However, we are trying to discourage the Justice League heroes from interfering with my business, not enflame their anger to the point they wish to wage war with me. No, we must not take Zatanna’s special gift that makes her a member of such an elite club. We do with her as we did with Batgirl and Supergirl, and add a few visible scars so that the patrons of her performances perhaps dwindle. That will be her price for thinking she could bring the great Manuel Rodriguez to justice!’”

“Again I shook my head, trying to tell him he was mistaken about my intentions, Dr. Janko,” I explain in a voice hoarse with the horror I am remembering. “I’m a brave girl, I would like to think, but I was terrified by these men and their callous cruelty, and tears were running down my face as I struggled to make Rodriguez understand without the benefit of words. I think he realized that there was something wrong with my behavior, because he asked, ‘Why do you beg, brave heroine? Surely you knew, from what happened to your friends, that you would be punished if I caught you trying to bring me to your so-called justice.’ I nodded once as I sought to look him straight in his eyes, and then shook my head vigorously again. He shook his head with disgust, and then spat, ‘Enough talk, Magua. See what is keeping the chemist, while I check the coals.’”

“I heard the rattle of metal against metal, after the drug lord had walked behind me while the old Indian rushed from the brick barn,” I continue in a raspy voice as the psychiatrist busily takes her notes, “and then Rodriquez returned to kneel before me, holding the white hot, three-inch-wide, double-rowed end of a branding iron before my face. He said softly in a self-satisfied tone, ‘I am a businessman whose fingers are in many different pots, Senorita Zatara. Imagine my disappointment when I learned, after letting Wonder Woman escape my grasp only partially punished for her invasion of my privacy, of the sudden popularity of blue milk, named so for the bluish tinge of the liquid produced during human lactation, at the parties of the well-to-do. Imagine my disappointment that the Amazon Princess had been lost to me when I learned of the incredibly large sums of money a man named Thorne is willing to pay for blue milk obtained from superheroines.’”

“‘Yes, I see you read Spanish, Zatanna,’ the drug lord said with a chuckle as I nodded with horror in my eyes and gagged as I recognized the glowing white words ‘vaca lechera’…milk cow…one word on each row, at the end of the branding iron,” I manage to choke out as Dr. Janko’s gaze focuses on my fishnets. “He pushed the glowing branding iron so close that I could feel the heat on my face as he hissed, ‘And you can see that I am now well prepared to gain profit from the visits I knew you Justice Leaguers would continue to honor me with, though I wish you would not. I’ll take your milk during your rather protracted stay here, Senorita Zatara, as a means of gaining profit, not as a way to punish you, and sell it to Senor Thorne.’”

“As I knelt there staring at the glowing words I knew might soon be burned into my hide,” I explain to the blonde psychoanalyst as she busily jots down notes, “I almost missed Rodriguez’s most astonishing threat. He hissed with gleaming brown eyes, ‘I am well prepared to gain profit, should the Justice League begin sending heroes as well, Zatanna, for Thorne does much business in the Orient selling capsules containing superhero sperm as aphrodisiacs that are believed to enhance male potency. However, perhaps you would be so kind as to warn your hero friends that, should one of them come to honor me with his presence, I have the equipment needed to milk his semen from him, though his milking will last not nearly so long as yours will, Zatanna. However, when the hero’s milking ends, I will see to it that he can never be milked again…his punishment for his unwanted company! If your hero friends listen well, perhaps I’ll have my privacy, no?’”

“Then he walked back behind me, and I heard the branding iron drop back into what I assumed was a brazier filled with white hot coals,” I explain with a chuckle as I can tell Dr. Janko is sexually aroused by what she is hearing as she writes furiously and repeatedly crosses and uncrosses her legs. “Yeah, that lurid threat sort of made me lose track of my own problems for a bit as well, Dr. Janko, as I noticed that the barn was filled with every Justice Leaguer’s Achilles’ heel, including kryptonite. You’ll warn J’onn…before you have one of the guys on your couch?”

“Yes, I’ll warn the Martian Manhunter about the threat, Zatanna,” the frowning psychiatrist retorts with a nod, causing her blonde bun to jiggle. “However, although I feel much better prepared to provide psychotherapy for you superheroines, I’ve already had many of your male colleagues on that couch. “Now, let’s get back to your case. How did you feel about the fact that you had been threatened with having your skin marred with a branding iron…and the fact that the branding iron had been put away?”

“Naturally, I was a little relieved,” I reply with a chuckle, noticing how Dr. Janko avoided bringing up the obvious despite her furtive glances, “as I obviously preferred to avoid a painful burn. Anyhow, Rodriguez moved back in front of me, knelt, and pushed a six-inch long, half-inch thick transparent tube with an open metallic end and rubber rings inside it before my face and hissed, ‘Now to see to your punishment for giving me the unwanted pleasure of your company.’ Again I shook my head, trying to tell him that it wasn’t my fault that I was at his hacienda, ignoring the device I didn’t recognize in his hand, as he continued, ‘Begging will not save you from having this device, which I have recently learned was invented by Doctor Doom, used on you, Zatanna. But you know that, don’t you?’ Again I nodded while trying to lock eyes with the drug lord.”

“I watched as he shook his head in disbelief, and put the strange tube back into the coat pocket he had taken it from, before asking, ‘Are you trying to lie, and claim you did not come here to bring me to justice for the criminal activities that have made me a rich and powerful man, Zatanna?’”

“Despite the fact that my doing so could be read both ways, the way the question had been carelessly phrased, I nodded vigorously, Dr. Janko,” I explain with a blush on my face. “I finally had communicated the fact that I was innocent of the crimes Manuel Rodriguez had convicted me of while I was unconscious. He was finally beginning to understand that I wasn’t in Panama on Justice League business at all. Or so I had hoped, as he stood and walked behind me again.”

“When he returned to stand before me, he held another white hot poker before my eyes, Dr. Janko, and hope fled as I began shaking in trepidation,” I admit softly in a shaky voice. “This white hot poker was tipped with a three-eighths-inch-thick inch-long prodding rod that had a bowl-shaped hallow at its business end. Even before the drug lord hissed, ‘I don’t believe you, so I’ll punish you as I planned, but let the coals do the work instead of clinical science!’ I had come to understand the nature of my threatened punishment. I can tell you I was yanking on and bucking in my bonds with all my might as that evil man walked behind me. I screamed, ‘MMomph!’ into my ball gag, and tried the teleportation spell yet again, as I felt heat rising upwards from the white hot metal so close to the apex of my vulva. Rodriguez yelled back, ‘If you didn’t want this, why didn’t you heed the warning examples I made of Supergirl and Batgirl?’ Again I shook my head, hoping that my message was sinking into the drug lord’s head. What was he talking about…with Supergirl and Batgirl…Dr. Janko?”

“Why, Zatanna,” Dr. Janko replies with a flushed face and turreted nipples dimpling her white blouse while readjusting her long black skirt, “if I was aware of an incident involving Manuel Rodriguez and those two heroines, I wouldn’t be at liberty to talk about it. Just, as, when we are done here today, no one will learn of what that evil bastard did to you. That’s the way it should be, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” I agree with a sheepish look on my face, “but it never seems to work out that way. The stories of our superheroine setbacks, often complete with pictures to make the stories undeniable fact, always eventually end up on the adult superheroine websites. Hell! I bet this sordid tale I’m just now telling you ends up on one of those websites, most likely The Wizard’s Lair, within a month or two.”

“Then you know you’re the featured heroine for that semi-annual contest the Wizard ru…?” Dr. Janko begins, and then adjusts her horn-rimmed glasses as her question trails off. “Never mind! Please continue.”

“Yes, Dr. Janko,” I reply with a giggle, thankful for the brief respite from reliving a terribly tense moment. A reliving that I turn my attention back to as I admit, “Well, as you can imagine, I took in a deep breath and prepared to scream as the heat between my legs gradually grew warmer. Then the door opened and Magua reentered, followed by a man dressed in a lab coat carrying two syringes in one hand and the rest of my costume in his other. The heat between my labial lips lessened, and Rodriguez asked excitedly, ‘Well, Dr. Manson, did you find what I need?’”

“‘Yes, Senor Rodriguez, I did,’ the blonde, blue-eyed Englishman replied as he looked at me and then at the white-hot poker tip so near my delicate flesh and licked his lips, although I couldn’t tell if he was thinking of sex or torture as he did so,” I confess with another sheepish blush as I glance at the scribing psychiatrist. “Then he explained, ‘The pills were in an inner pocket of her tuxedo. The drugs are strong, but her liver will clean them out of her system within 24 hours…48 hours tops. Looks like you’re about to begin the fun with her.’”

“‘Yes, Manson, I’m about to punish her for trying to force her vigilante brand of justice upon me, though she seems to be denying that she came here to bring an end to my crimes,’ Manuel Rodriguez replied to the chemist as I quivered in fear, before asking, ‘unless, of course, you found something that might corroborate her claim while you were searching her costume, Manson?’”

“I gasped with relief as I watched the scientist nod to the drug lord, and then to my tuxedo, Dr. Janko, before saying, ‘There’s a flyer in her jacket pocket promoting, in Spanish, the magic act she’s scheduled to perform tonight at a nightclub in Panama City. She was probably on her way there when your men caught her at the petrol station outside of Veracruz. These do-gooder types don’t go to the trouble of preparing excuses in case they’re captured. It’s probably not a ruse, and she probably was just unlucky enough to be the only stranger around when Magua led the kidnap party out to find us another cow.’”

I chuckle as I watch the disappointment grow on the psychiatrist’s face as I continue with my recounting.

“‘Hmmm, I suppose it is possible,’ the drug lord mused from behind me as the chemist grinned. I watched with growing hope as Magua knelt and fished the flyer from my jacket. He unfolded the paper and held it out for his boss to read, while cackling like a maniac. ‘Well, if we’ve just been lucky enough to obtain a superheroine as our new cow, one who had not been bent upon getting in the way of my business transactions, then it would be most unfair to punish her...in this particular way, at least,’ Rodriguez said and I heard the sound of metal clank into the brazier, a stirring sound, and then metal sliding against metal. ‘I tell you what, Senorita Zatara,’ Manuel Rodriguez announced jovially, ‘you will not feel the white hot metal touch your most tender flesh, if the nightclub validates your story when I call them later. Give her the injections Dr. Manson, no doubt as you explain your brilliance to her.’”

“‘As you wish, Senor Rodriguez,’ the weasel-faced Englishman replied as he stepped in front of me and began wiping the outside upper curve of my right breast with an alcohol-soaked wad of cotton, while chuckling, ‘and you can thank me girl, for all the orgasms you’ll be having as you get used during your daily milkings by the numerous men at this ranch Mr. Rodriguez runs…used until your udders run dry. It’s a little hard to force a climax on a girl who is not quite the girl she used to be!’ Then the scrawny bastard laughed at his cleverness as he pushed one of the syringe’s needles deep into the base of my right breast and slowly pushed downward on the plunger,” I say as I pause my tale with anger filling my face.

“How did you feel about the Englishman’s proclamation of your impending fate, Zatanna,” Dr. Janko asks softly as her green eyes burn with interest. I can see that she’s very sexually aroused, and wonder if the Justice League is unnecessarily paying her to conduct these sordid sessions that allow her to vicariously experience superheroine setbacks.

“Embarrassed, angry, and relieved, Dr. Janko,” I reply tersely, while psychiatrist nods as a way of telling me to expound on my feelings. I pause and continue with, “I was embarrassed that I was caught with my guard down; I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get captured and put into a position where I could be abused by criminal men. I was angry that he was callously telling me I that I had daily gang rapes to look forward to, evidently while being breast milked. I was relieved that those rapes would bring me climax, because the alternative was too horrible to contemplate.”

I look at the older blonde behind the desk, and can tell she’s ready for me to move on with my story, eager for me to get to the good part. I chuckle as I make her wait as I diligently continue in great detail about being prepared to become a human milk cow, as I explain, “While the liquid in the syringe was being pressed into my right breast, and then my left breast was swabbed, punctured, and injected, the chemist took great pride in announcing, ‘The liquid I’m injecting into these big jugs of yours are a special lactation-inducing drug I’ve invented. It’s a cocktail that includes the chemicals metoclopramide and sulpirite, and even some of the hormones those chemicals are supposed to cause the production of…prolactin and oxytocin…to really jumpstart the milk production.’”

“The bastard grinned at me as he finished with my left breast and nodded to the container on the floor before my stall, labeled ‘Zatanna’, and chortled, ‘In a few short minutes, Zatanna, your boobs will begin to ache and burn, and then your nipples will begin to leak. Then, after Magua rinses your udders in some mystical spring water, and chants over them a bit to facilitate the bounteousness of their spraying, you’ll get the milkers hooked to your teats and the milk hoses hooked to your breast pump. You’ll get another injection in the morning, and yet another tomorrow night, and the chemical will become a permanent part of your bloodstream. If my injections were the full extent of the process we use here, Zatanna, I think you would end up lactating for the rest of your life. I pronounce you, ‘dairy cow’, Zatanna Zatara!’”

“I howled in agony as the Englishman stepped away!” I concede in a quivering voice as I answer one of the questions that I know is foremost on the psychiatrist’s mind, and we both stare at my left hip. “Rodriguez had taken the chemist’s declaration of my human milk cow status as the appropriate time to burn the label ‘vaca lechera’ into my hide. As you can see through my fishnets from the sharp margins of the brand, he did a damn good job of keeping the white hot iron horizontal to my head and firmly in place. Yes I can tell you it hurt like hell, as the searing agony pushed downward through my epidermis and dermis and into muscle and even bone. The excruciating pain wasn’t contained to the burning hide, but spread to the entirety of my left hip, and the torment continued to throb through me even after the branding iron had been returned to the brazier. Yes, I know…how did I feel emotionally? Dr. Janko, I was shocked and disgusted to think that one human being would seek to permanently mark slash disfigure another.”

“I’m sorry that you had such a cruel thing done to you, Zatanna,” Dr. Janko replies with genuine concern in her voice and a look of disdain on her face. “Clearly, the Justice League will see to it that the disfigurement is removed. J’onn is even now continuing negotiations with the Avengers to have a new device they’ve discovered used to make your hip as good as new.”

“That won’t be necessary, Dr. Janko,” I spit with disgust. “I don’t need your help to heal my flesh. This is a trivial wound, compared to having my larynx shot out by the Joker, and I healed that all by my lonesome. No, I’ll keep the dairy cow brand until I’m past this…emotionally. It’s my mind that I need your help in healing, doctor!”

“Yes, quite right,” the blonde psychotherapist replies with an eerie calmness, “and, although you appear to be less troubled from your ordeal than I expected, I believe this session is only the first step towards that healing, Miss Zatara. Please continue with your description of what happened to you at the hands of the drug lord, Manuel Rodriguez, and his men.”

“I knelt sobbing in that awful stall for quite some time as the men in the room patiently waited for me to be ready for whatever sick punishment they had next in mind for me,” I say softly in a shaky voice, thinking how obvious it is that the blonde behind the desk wants to cut to the chase. “I slowly became aware that my breasts were glowing with warmth and throbbing. I knew it was due to my breast lobules filling with fluid, causing my mammary glands to swell. Despite the throbbing pain from the brand, I was growing ever more concerned over the debasement I was about to have thrust upon me, as suction cups were secured to the ends of my breasts, and the pump on the floor below me was used to suck the mother’s milk from my lobules down my milk ducts and out my nipples into a container bearing my name.”

“Suddenly,” I continue as I try to contain my emotions, “the black girl’s stall at the end of the line began issuing a beeping sound, and the fourth man in the room, who I had not yet seen, hissed in Spanish, ‘Mother of the devil, I warned her not to run dry!’ A stocky Latino male dressed in overalls raced out from behind the lineup of stalls, raised a mallet with a huge wooden head high into the air, and swung downwards with all his might. There was a loud hollow thump as the flat end of the mallet head connected with the top of the black girl’s cranium, and she just lay there, limp but quivering in her stall. I tried to scream, ‘No! You murdering bastards!’ into the ball gag as I realized the girl had been brained to death, and shook with rage.”

“‘Yeah, well like I was saying,’ the chemist said with a chuckle as he stepped forward and wiped milk from my right nipple,” I recount as I try to contain the anger I know Dr. Janko can see on my face, ‘if we left it to me and my injections, you’d lactate the rest of your life. However, once this old medicine man,’ the Englishman chortled as he nodded to a madly grinning Magua and then at the quivering corpse, ‘has worked his magic on you, your breasts are going to swell to mammoth proportions, just like hers did, Zatanna. They’re going to produce gallons of milk every day for the next few months, and then the production will rapidly drop off over a period of a few days as his Indian witchcraft results in everything that isn’t fat in those milk bags of yours turning to mush.’”

“‘Well that can’t be helped, Manson,’ Rodriguez interjected as I bucked in my restraints and spoke another hopeless spell into the ball gag,” I say as I pull my tuxedo over my body again, feeling uncomfortable under the psychiatrists probing stare, “‘as we need the volume of blue milk the enhanced breasts produce. Besides, Magua’s treatment using the water from his tribe’s recently rediscovered ‘spring of bountiful harvest’ seems to enhance the flavor of the liquid, and there are plenty of replacement cows to kidnap. Now get that trash out of here, Gomez, and have the men bury her out in the jungle,’ the drug lord told his dairy foreman before turning his attention back to me while the black girl was being unhitched from her stall.”

“‘Senorita Zatanna,’ Manuel Rodriguez said to me calmly with a friendly smile on his face, ‘do not worry your pretty little head about this thing we have just seen today.’” I whisper with sorrow as I note the shock the tale of murder has put on the psychoanalyst’s face. “He explained, ‘I promise there will be no unmarked grave for the great Zatanna Zatara. No! A few months from now, we will send you back to your Justice League friends with an indelible label on your left hip to tell them of your new profession, and saggy, flaccid bags of skin to show them that this new profession has now been lost to you. One more thing will I send you back to the Justice League with, to tell them to stop giving me the pleasure of their company, Zatanna. I will tell you of this thing shortly. However, first Magua must work his witchcraft upon those magnificent breasts you carry, Zatanna, riding so high and firm on your chest despite their large size. Get on with it, Magua!’”

“That’s right, Dr. Janko,” I proclaim with a chuckle as the blonde’s green eyes leave the brand on my left hip to examine the torso I keep tightly covered with my ill-fitting tuxedo jacket, “I, Zatanna, the sorceress supreme, knelt helpless in a milking stall as that cackling Amazonian Indian sprinkled water out of a wineskin he had untied from his belt onto my breasts, and then chanted with his tongue-less mouth the magic incantation that would make me the ultimate heifer. I could feel the magic begin working immediately, as a tingling sensation was added to the warm glow and gentle throbbing that were the result of the lactation-inducing drugs. No! You couldn’t see my breasts growing. The swelling of my mammary glands was proceeding, I was sure, but at an imperceptible rate.”

“Yes, I know, how did I feel about this happening to me?” I interrupt with obvious irritation as I watch the older psychiatrist open her mouth to issue the question. “Well, as I glanced from my perfect-shaped D-cups to the obscenely huge milk bags dangling from the chests of the girls in the other stalls, I felt disgusted. I also felt anger towards the men, naturally, and sorry for myself at having to put up with the defilement of my body.”

“Thank you, Zatanna,” Doctor Janko replies as she peers at my misshapen torso under my jacket, “you’re cooperation is making this session most insightful. Please continue.”

“I’m happy to be helpful, if it gets me back on the active duty roster any sooner, Doctor,” I reply with a chuckle before returning to my reliving of that terrible stay in a dairy barn designed for two-legged cows. “Just then, the man in overalls stepped back through the dairy door, picked up his huge mallet from the floor before the now empty milking platform, and walked to his work station behind the stalls. As he disappeared from sight, Rodriguez chuckled and said, ‘Do not worry, Senorita Zatara, for I, Manuel Rodriguez, have promised you will not be brained with my dairy foreman’s hammer. You will, however, be milked of your bluish-tinted liquid gold while camera’s record its extraction from your teats so its authenticity can be documented for Thorne and his rich and powerful clients.’”

The drug lord and his henchmen laughed as they watched me blush deep red while Rodriguez weighed my breasts with his hands, one in each palm, and chortled, ‘However, that won’t begin until tomorrow, after Doctor Manson gives you a second injection of his miracle drugs. By then you’ll be begging to get the liquid drained from your throbbing, massively swollen milk bags that will be too heavy for a man to so easily lift. I fear my business precludes me from witnessing your teats being fitted with the milkers that will be sucking blue milk from you for many weeks to come, Senorita Zatara.’”

“I was feeling thoroughly debased, Dr. Janko, as that monster stood there palming what I assumed would be the sole instruments of my defilement, until he proclaimed with obvious relish, ‘Do not worry your pretty little head though, Zatanna. You and I will see each other the day after tomorrow, for we have to use you to give your Justice League friends one final reason not provide me with the honor of their presence…an honor I would rather not have. Manson assures me that, by then, the broad spectrum pregnancy protection you superheroines use will be out of your system. So it will be that you and I get to know each other quite well, Zatanna. Beginning the day after tomorrow, I will personally seed your uterus daily for the next two to four weeks…until the good doctor detects hCG in your system. Then I’ll let you whore in your stall day and night for any man who wants to use you, until Magua’s witchcraft results in these beautiful breasts turning into flaccid bags of mush. Three months after your pregnancy has been assured AND you’ve run dry, I’ll send you home to your Justice League friends.’”

I watch the blonde psychiatrist’s eyes drop from my chest to my belly, and I finally acknowledge what she’s already read in my file from my debriefing with J’onn, “Yeah, I turned out to be one of those women who start to show early…the reason for our meeting being rushed. This sort of setback always makes the male Justice Leaguer’s cringe. Frankly, I’d have taken care of it myself…not let J’onn find out…if only….” My voice quivers as I can’t bring myself to finish acknowledging the full extent of my defilement.

“If only you weren’t into the second trimester of your pregnancy,” Dr. Janko interjects softly with a frown on her face, finishing my sentence for me, “and it wasn’t so much harder to find a doctor willing to abort a fetus that is now considered a living being in many circles. No doubt why Rodriguez told you from the start how long he would keep you prisoner. Previous attempts at using impregnation as a weapon have no doubt ended up less successful than he had hoped. We’ll get back to this later, Zatanna. Please continue with your story.”

I am flabbergasted by Dr. Janko’s setting aside of the cruel and sordid fate Rodriguez had forced upon me. What else could have forced me to admit that I needed her help? I open my mouth to complain, and then think better of it. I’m the patient, and Elizabeth is the doctor, after all. I return to reciting my depraved misadventure.

“Well, naturally, Dr. Janko, I had responded to Rodriguez’s threats with some of the most colorful swear words ever to end up simply as meaningless ‘mmphs’, as he stood there fondling the very breasts he was preparing to milk and eventually ruin,” I say with an unintended chuckle. “The drug lord laughed and, as he released my weird feeling breasts, chortled, ‘You’ll have to do better than that, Zatanna, when it comes to communication, if you want to make the most of your dairy days. You won’t get the cow chow, like the other girls. I won’t risk removing your gag for an instant. Might I suggest two quick grunts for water, and three for food, which you’ll get through a straw that will be threaded into a hole that Gomez will soon drill into the gag’s ball. There’s a drain in the platform under your pelvis for urine, and the anal tube for smellier waste. Gomez will also keep you clean, just as he would any other farm animal. Yes, I see you understand now, Senorita Zatara. You’ll stay locked into that milking position for the duration of your stay here. When we finally dump your drugged body behind the gas station we took you from, you are going to be seriously in need of exercise to gradually regain your athletic fitness, no?’”

The men all laughed at the stupefied look on my face, and then Rodriguez turned to Gomez and commanded, “Give her the straw as I explained, and keep her fed, watered, and clean. Tell the men that I am sorry to ruin their fun, but the cows are off limits for their use for the rest of the week. Tell them, and this goes for you men as well, I will kill any man who uses Zatanna until I say differently. Her gag stays on at all times, as do her udder cups once you start her milking in the morning. Do you understand all this, Gomez?” The drug lord waited until his dairy foreman nodded, and then he turned back to me and said, ‘Sleep well with pleasant dreams, Senorita Zatara,’ before walking out the dairy door with Magua and Manson in tow.”

“How did you sleep?” the psychiatrists asks me in her calm professional tone.

“I didn’t!” I reply tetchily. “My breasts ached, burned, and tingled all night long. My joints and muscles didn’t take well to being locked into one position either, but it was my wedged open jaw that really bothered me…I can barely stand to have my mouth held open during a dental appointment. And yes, my mind was filled with trepidation…as I watched the other three girls getting milked at dusk. Could you have slept, Miss Janko?”

“No, I suppose not, Miss Zatara,” the blonde psychoanalyst admits softly, again ignoring my stripping of her credentials. “Gomez saw to it that the men left you alone?”

“Yes, as did the guard who relieved him after the other girls were milked for four hours,” I reply, this time with less emotion. “The lights were turned off, and it was pitch black in the dairy until dawn. That was when Magua and Gomez walked back in through the door with a weeping black girl in tow and turned on the lights. That’s when I saw the monstrosities my breasts had become!”

“So, the old Indian’s witchcraft actually worked?” Dr. Janko asks, and her face filled with astonishment as I nod and blush under her probing stare. “If not for the alleged side effects the drug lord and chemist told you about, there would be a fortune to be had if we could find that spring, Zatanna. Sorry! Bad joke! How did your breasts feel?”

“The tingling sensation was gone, Dr. Janko,” I reply softly and then sigh in embarrassment as I am forced to remember the beginning of my dairy cow career, “but the huge overstuffed bags of flesh hanging from my chest ached terribly. I knew it was because the lobules in my breasts were swollen with liquid. To be honest, at this point I NEEDED the dairy foreman to finish securing the new cow into her stall. I couldn’t wait for Dr, Manson to give me the second injection. I was eager for Gomez to fit the suction cups over my leaking nipples. I WANTED the milk machine’s pump turned on, so that my mother’s milk would flow down my ducts out of my squirting nipples and into the huge, transparent container bearing my name!”

“How did you feel about having those needs, Zatanna?” the blonde psychiatrist asks as she stares at my ill-fitting jacket with fascination on her face.

“Disgusted!” I spit with anger as I glare at my interrogator. “Never the less, I was as pleased as Punch when Manson walked through the dairy door and gave me my injections without saying a word to me, and then gave the new girl hers. I should have known the Englishman wasn’t going to skip his chance to bring me down another peg, though. After he finished bragging about his chemicals to the new girl, and while Magua worked his magic on her breasts, he stepped back in front of me and pulled a bullet-shaped vibrator from his pocket. He grinned at me as I groaned with disgust, and chided with a broad grin on his weasel face, ‘Senor Rodriguez wants you ready and willing when you two begin your dance tomorrow, Zatanna! He told me to set this on its lowest setting and stuff it up your quim, super slut. This won’t be enough to get you off, you bloody super cow, but I’ll wager it will leave you wishing you could!’ The bastard walked around the stalls, brutally shoved the plastic into my vagina, and rushed out of the building, followed by a cackling Magua, as I moaned in embarrassment and disgust.”

“Was this your first time?” Dr. Janko asks me with her legs again tightly crossed and headlights poking through her blouse. Her lips quiver with excitement as she adds, “The first time you had been sexually abused, I mean.”

“No,” I reply softly as I realize I’ve finally got to the chase, in the psychiatrist’s mind at least. “Of course not! I’m a superheroine, aren’t I?” I’m tempted to tell her that I’ve been gang banged more times than she could imagine, but decide to refrain from adding to her obviously already jacked-up libido, and move on to my recounting. “Besides, it wasn’t plastic buzzing gently between my legs that I was concerned about just then. It was my breasts that felt ready to burst that had my full attention that morning. Fortunately, Gomez hooked the milkers to my teats a few minutes later, hit the pump on the floor in front if me’s on switch, and I was squirting away with jets of bluish-white liquid that would have made Betsy the milk cow moo with envy.”

“What did it feel like, Zatanna?” Dr. Janko asks as she correctly guesses that I’m trying to get through the story of my debasement with as little self-deprecation as possible. “How did it make you feel, when you realized you had just become human livestock?”

“When the pump was first turned on, Elizabeth, the aches emanating from my monstrous breasts increased slightly at first, before being replaced with a warm glow,” I reply with a chuckle as I realize I can’t save what’s left of my self-esteem. “Then, as my nipples burned and the jets of milk started squirting into the suction cups, I felt like my breasts had been brought to orgasm, for the glow had grown to an erotically pleasurable sensation. In truth, I almost climaxed as my breasts finally found much needed release! How did I feel, embarrassed and disgusted at the near climax, but prideful at the way I was rapidly filling my milk jug. Strange, isn’t it? The things we choose to value? Just then, I valued the fact that I was making one hell of a productive milk cow!”

“Yes, well it is one of our mind’s defensive mechanisms, Zatanna,” Dr. Janko assures me with a far-away-look in her green eyes. “By finding satisfaction in something we’ve done, we’re able to get past the less pleasing parts of our lives. Did you manage to continue lactating the entire four-hour milking cycle? Did the sensations or how you felt about your situation change as the time passed?”

“Both the burning sensation that emanated from my nipples and the erotic glow emanating from my breasts gradually receded as my lobules were slowly emptied, Dr. Janko,” I reply with a deepening blush, “but I was still squirting strong when the pumps were turned off. I looked down at the container on the floor before me…with my name on it…it contained nearly three gallons of my fluid. I was amazed and proud and disgusted and angry all at the same time. Those feelings always remained, though the relative intensities of each component emotion often varied, at the end of every four hour milking period that marked the beginning of an eight-hour resting period. Resting periods that always began with the faint erotic glow of recent release and the comfort of near empty breast lobules, and always ended with swollen and aching breasts that I desperately wanted to have emptied. I was no different from a real dairy cow at a normal dairy. Fortunately, like real dairymen taking care of their herds, Gomez seen to it that the breasts of me and my two-legged companion cows were always emptied on schedule. That’s all I’ve got for you on being forced milked…Elizabeth…until we get to the running dry part. Okay?”

“Yes, of course, Zatanna,” Dr. Janko quickly, perhaps too quickly, agrees as her green eyes probe my tightly clutched tuxedo front. “Obviously you got your third set of injections from Manson later that day. Let’s move onto the next day, shall we?”

“The next day…and Manuel Rodriguez…Dr. Janko?” I stammer as shame floods through my mind.

“Yes, I’m afraid so, Zatanna,” the blonde psychiatrist replies with excitement sneaking into her guarded professional tone and anticipation filtering past her poker face. She is clearly ready to enjoy her vicarious rape now that I’ve got to the good part of my story of my superheroine set back!

“The bastard made me wait the entire day, Dr. Janko!” I tersely spit after shrugging my shoulders. It couldn’t be avoided. She had to know! “He walked in just as the pumps were turned on to begin my evening milking. He walked up and gently stroked my face with his right hand while he chuckled at my rapidly filling milk container. Then he locked his hard brown eyes with the vanquish shining from my teary blue eyes, and softly announced, ‘Now it is time to give you something to help deter your friends from providing me with the unwanted pleasure of their company, Senorita Zatara. Yes, I am aware that you are not here of your own volition, Zatanna. Still, I will make an example of you as I steal your mother’s milk. I will give you the honor of becoming an unwed mother…the honor of bearing the child of Manuel Rodriguez. Your Justice League friends will see this honor I have given you when I finally send you back to them, no? They will see you raise the child of a rich and powerful drug lord…a man who will one day snatch that child from your home so that he or she can take over my illegal empire!’”

I look up at the blonde psychoanalyst sitting behind her desk with tightly crossed legs and turreted nipples poking into the cloth of her frilly blouse as fascination beams from her face. She is obviously most eager to hear of my defilement in the clutches of the drug lord. This is obviously what she finds rewarding when it comes to her line of work. I give her that sordid reward as I explain, “Without saying another word, Rodriguez dropped his hand from my face and walked around the stalls. I felt the gently buzzing vibrator pulled out of my sopping wet sex, and heard it land in a trash can, and felt the waste hose pulled out of my anus and set aside. I sensed the drug lord crawl up on top of my milking platform, heard him unbuckle, unzip, and drop his pants down around his ankles, and felt him position the glans of his penis between my labia minora. I held my breath as I waited for my rape to begin. Then, with one brutal thrust, Rodriguez banged his pelvis against mine, burying his more-than-adequate-sized manhood to the hilt in my vagina.”

I begin sobbing, and force my eyes away from the older blonde who is again crossing and uncrossing her legs over and over, and in a hushed quaking voice admit, “It took me nearly a minute to realize…when I heard the loud, shrill, staccato sighs that suddenly rang through the dairy…that they were coming…from my mouth. That the drug lord…had won the forced climax…that marked my total defeat…with just one thrust. That bastard Rodriguez just stood there with his penis buried in my vagina and laughed at me, Dr. Janko. The laughter seemed to go on forever, before that Panamanian devil finally began slowly copulating with me.”

“I’m sorry that such evil men exist in this world, Zatanna,” Elizabeth replies softly with unexpected bitterness, bringing my eyes back to her flushed face. “What were you feeling, emotionally, Miss Zatara?” the psychiatrist quickly asks as she senses I’m detecting the long hidden rancor buried deeply beneath her obvious enthrallment with my tale of debauchery.

“I felt dreadfully embarrassed that I had been so easily forced to climax, Dr. Janko,” I blushingly admit as I manage to staunch the sobs. “I felt terribly sorry for myself that I couldn’t do anything to end my rape, desperately afraid that the evil man above me would indeed impregnate me, and awfully enraged at him for his trying to use my reproductive system as a weapon against me and my friends. I felt all those things, Dr. Janko, and the need for sexual release. As unlikely as it might sound, I wanted a second climax as a reward for the trouble the asshole was forcing upon me as he churned his manhood in my sex. I got it too! I managed a second orgasm just as he ejaculated into the depths of my vagina.”

I barely avoid chuckling as I watch Elizabeth rubbing her thighs together and holding her folded arms over her breast tips, and decide to continue without making her prod me on. I proclaim, “The same emotions, to varying degrees, ran through my mind as Manual Rodriguez returned to the dairy the next night to fornicate with my helpless body while I was milked, and then night after night after that, although I was pretty sure those later nights were wasted. I’m pretty sure I got caught during the second rape. Homo magi are pretty sensitive to hormonal changes. It took Dr. Manson a week to detect the hCG in my pee, using an over-the-counter home pregnancy detection kit, would you believe?”

“How did you feel, Zatanna, when you learned you were with child?” Dr. Janko asks as she uncrosses her legs and swivels her chair so that she’s facing away from me. I can tell her left hand has been dropped to her lap, and can see that arm’s muscles flexing.

I stifle a chuckle as I spit, “Crushed! My body had betrayed me and given that sick drug lord the weapon he wanted to use against my friends. I was also distraught over the realization that Rodriguez no longer had a need to reserve me for his own personal sexual use. Remember, Manson had told me that I would be made available for use by the drug lord’s many ranch hands during my milking sessions. So, I trust you’ll understand that I had more than my swelling belly and aching monstrous breasts to contemplate as a jubilant chemist rushed out the dairy door that morning a little over three months ago, Dr. Janko.”

“Yes, I do understand the horror and disgust you must have felt when you realized that your nightly rapes by one man were going to be replaced with long protracted sessions of forced sex with multiple men you had yet to meet,” Dr. Janko replies vehemently as her body stiffens with emotion. There is a long, uncomfortable pause before the psychiatrist whispers, “Did Manuel Rodriguez return to the dairy to gloat over your condition, and watch the beginning of your gang rapes?”

“No, he didn’t,” I reply softly, more than a bit perplexed with the psychiatrist’s sudden animosity towards the drug lord and what he did to me. “Strangely enough, I didn’t see Rodriguez again for months. It was Magua and Manson who stepped through the door at the beginning of my evening milking session. Magua, after setting aside my anal hose, took me first, and slowly and gently used his large manhood to bring me to climax before ejaculating into my vagina. As he stepped down from my platform, Manson stepped up and entered me with his smallish member. The chemist worked long and hard, trying unsuccessfully to force climax upon me, before finally spending his semen inside of me. Those men left, and while Gomez was taking a turn with me, the flood gates opened as ranch hand after ranch hand filed into the dairy. I was more popular than the other cows, but we all spent the four hour milking session in continual coitus. Dairy life had taken a turn for the worse. Dr. Janko!”

“I watch Elizabeth stiffen as she issues a muffled gasp, and then, red-faced, swivels her chair back to face me as she agrees, “Yes, it must have been terrible. You stuck in what was now a combination of dairy stall and breeding pen. Were the men allowed to use you and your fellow dairy cows any way and time they wanted?”

“No, just intercourse and only during the morning and evening milking sessions, Doctor Janko,” I reply as the blonde psychiatrist firmly re-crosses her long and shapely legs.

“Were the milking sessions always continual coitus as you described the first one was, and how successful were you at avoiding having climax forced upon you?” Elizabeth asks in her professional tone as her red face is replaced with leering eyes and excited anticipation.

“No, the room never again filled with men, as it did that first night that we cows were made, for some of the girls, once again, available to Rodriguez’s employees…and other men who said they’d paid for sex with us,” I reply in a halting voice under the psychiatrist’s penetrating stare. “Sometimes, mostly at night, we had a steady stream of customers using us, with me ever the more popular whore. Sometimes the men…men of all ages and races and appearances…would trickle in. Sometimes I would recognize return customers…Manson, who took to wearing a condom, visited me often…but there were usually new faces as well. Every milking session I had at least one climax forced from my loins…and sometimes dozens. Those men that didn’t succeed in forcing orgasm upon me didn’t seem to care, so long as they got their own ejaculations. That about sums up my life for the next three months, Doctor Janko. Shall we move on to my final few days in the dairy?”

“Momentarily, Zatanna,” Dr. Janko replies in a quivering voice and with leering eyes, and then frowns as she realizes she’s forgotten her professional mannerisms, “but first I need you to tell me what you felt about being used as a whore. Did you get used to it…did it just become part of your daily routine? How did you feel about Manson wearing a condom…did other men as well? Finally, how does what happened to you make you feel about men, and the prospects for relations with men in the future?”

“I felt crushed at my helplessness…disgusted with myself for the pleasure the sex forced my body to accept…every milking session…Dr. Janko,” I sputter softly with tears running down my face. “I never got used to being raped…never will. The fact that Manson and a few of the other repeat customers wore condoms…horrified me…fed my hopelessness…for it said they believed I had been contaminated…became diseased…due to my being taken by so many men. It told me they believed I carried sexually transmitted disease…perhaps even….”

“You don’t, Zatanna,” Elizabeth interjects softly, concern filling her green eyes, “we ran your blood through every test possible. You are clean of all STDs. Please answer my last question.”

“How do I feel about men, and future sexual relationships?” I ask as I regain control of my sobbing. I smile sheepishly as I finally understand both the leering and Dr. Janko’s earlier rancor at Rodriguez’s raping me. “It will be a rather long time before I’ll be interested in actively seeking intercourse, Elizabeth. However, while I have dabbled with switch hitting in the past…strictly minor league stuff, really…I don’t see myself joining the all girls’ team in the majors. The love of my life is out there somewhere, and I definitely want to raise his children with him…in the future…not any time soon. OH!” I blush badly as the top button of my vest pops open. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to take care of some personal needs as we continue. Dr. Manson’s lactation drug works too damn well!”

I giggle softly, despite the blush forming on my face, as Dr. Janko’s face fills with hope followed by disappointment as I explain my feelings regarding men, and then awe as I unbutton my vest and pull the leotard top under it down to expose my breasts. I pull a manual breast pump out of my tuxedo jacket and fit the funnel tip over my right nipple, and begin squeezing the handle as I explain, “I can tell from the dull aching sensation when I’m about to start leaking. Rather than staining my top, I’ll empty my breast lobules a bit, if you don’t mind. Are we ready to finish this session, and get to your diagnosis and recommended therapy?”

“Yes, of course,” the blonde psychiatrist replies nervously as she fiddles with her bun, “I had assumed that you had….” The psychoanalyst’s voice trails off as she blushes beet red.

“You had assumed that at the end of about three months of servitude as Rodriguez’s milk cow…that my breasts had given out…turned to flaccid bags of mush…due to Magua’s witchcraft…as Manson said they would?” I ask with a chuckle as I pump away under Elizabeth’s stare. “They did! After over three months of twice-a-day milkings accompanied by gang rapes, my milk production began to rapidly drop off. Two days later, during the evening milking, I ran dry, and two limp sheathes of flesh dangled downward from my chest.”

“That was the next and last time that I saw Manuel Rodriguez,” I admit as I lose the chuckle and gain a frown. “He took one look at my ruined breasts and laughed loudly. He told Gomez to unhook the nipple cups, and as his foreman did as instructed, felt up my belly and grunted with satisfaction. The bastard then chortled, ‘Senorita Zatara, if the child is a boy, do name him Manuel, and if the child is a girl, do name her Maria. Magua, see to it that Zatanna here is in no position to cause trouble as Gomez releases her from her stall. Then return her to where you found her, so that she may find her way back to her Justice League friends with my message that I wish to not have the pleasure of their company here at my hacienda ever again. Oh, and if you can do so before Zatanna awakens, do find us a replacement milk cow.’ The bastard roared with laughter as I felt the sharp prick in the side of my neck just above my bow tie, and the world went black.”

“I awoke under a full moon behind that gas station with the filthy rest room, my costume beside me and my stage hands long since gone,” I announce under Dr. Janko’s leering stare as I switch the breast pump to my left nipple. “I was still wearing the ball gag, but my hands were free, so I made quick work of freeing a jaw that had been forced open for an ungodly length of time. It took hours of massaging before I felt ready to use my mouth, and commanded in backwards spoken words, ‘Teleport to my room in the Watchtower!’ As soon as I materialized there I commanded ‘enog eb esaesiD!’, followed by ‘enog eb sgurD!’. Unfortunately, J’onn, being a telepath, had sensed both my presence and my troubles, and phased through the door to my room. I hadn’t yet healed my breasts, hence my debriefing two days ago and my session with you here today.”

“You would have kept all of this a secret…if you could have?” Dr. Janko asks with obvious disbelief.

“No!” I spit back, more than a little peeved. “I would have come forward…I would have warned my teammates to stay away from Panama…until we were ready to take that bastard drug lord down!” I sputter with rage as I pull the breast pump away and undo its cap. “I wouldn’t have taken a chance that someone else would be taken unawares, but….” My words trail off as I pull the mostly full plastic pint from another pocket of my tuxedo and unscrew its lid.

“But, you would have liked to have sorted out your breasts and pregnancy first?” the blonde psychiatrist asks as she watches me pour the liquid from the pump container into the pint with unbridled interest. “Although it seems obvious that Manson’s science seems to be trumping your sorcery. You are salvaging your own milk? What for?”

“Not for me to drink, if that’s what you’re thinking, Dr. Janko!” I proclaim sheepishly under the accusatory stare. “No, I don’t want it…not even a taste. However, Rodriguez did say it was valuable…to others…who fancy blue milk…especially superheroine milk. I’m not going to throw it awa…. OH! Damn!” I blush beet red as my breasts suddenly swell to DD-cups. “Yeah…my sorcery isn’t totally effective against Magua’s witchcraft either. I don’t understand why the change isn’t gradual like the first time. stsaerb erotseR!” I smile as my girls are instantly back to perfect-shaped D-cups. “That would be distressing if it happened in the middle of one of my magic shows, wouldn’t it? If I don’t get the upper hand on this pretty soon, I may have to give them the chop, and heal from scratch!”

“That would be painful!” Dr. Janko replies with concern on her face. “Before you take such a drastic step, I suggest you first talk to the Scarlet Witch. Now, back to your session! How do you feel towards Manuel Rodriguez? You said you would warn your teammates to stay away from Panama…until they are ready to take him down. What about yourself? Do you want vengeance? Will you try to make him pay for what he did to you during the last three months?”

“I won’t go near Panama, unless it is part of a Justice League raid,” I assure the blonde psychiatrist with a smile on my face as I put the breast pump away. “I escaped with only one burn scar, remember? It’s not that I’m afraid of him. I could use my sorcery to deflect an asteroid into striking his hacienda…or something equally brutal…without going anywhere near Panama. I won’t go down that path. Once you start acting as judge and jury as well as policewoman…well it gets too easy to keep doing it. No, I’ll have my vengeance when the Justice League makes that drug lord pay for all of his criminal activities! I just want back on the active duty roster. How about it, Dr. Janko?”

“I’m afraid I don’t think you are ready for that, Zatanna,” Dr. Janko replies softly as she leers at me as I put my breasts away and rebutton my vest. “First you’ll have to sort out the child you carry, recover from the degradation of being turned into a human milk cow, and prove to me you can get past the sexual abuse you suffered. Now, with respect to the pregnancy, obviously the more pressing issue, we’ve arranged for you to depart on a airplane to Sweden later this afternoon. There you’ll find a medical facility where there is either a doctor prepared to terminate your pregnancy, or a home for you to stay in until it is time to give birth. Once the pregnancy is behind you, you can prove you’re over the life as livestock by getting rid of that brand on your left hip. Then we can talk about sexual relations, or even dabble if you would prefer. Now, I think our hour is up. Until we meet again, Zatanna!”

I smile as I rise from the couch and step before Dr.Janko’s desk. I set the pint of blue milk before her and proclaim, “Don’t worry, Doctor, it is fresh, although not pasteurized! enog eb dnarB! leah piH!” I turn and show the vivacious blonde the unmarred skin of my left hip before promising, “I’ll give you a call, when I get back from Sweden…right after I’m back on the active duty roster…we wouldn’t want to have patient-doctor conflicts would we? Then you and I will share a night on the town, and perhaps a bedroom, so long as a strap-on isn’t involved!” I turn and walk out of the room, closing the door behind me. I pause, until I hear the low moan that tells me the good doctor is masturbating as she reviews her notes regarding my superheroine setback. I’m confident that I’ll soon be back on duty with the Justice League.

“That woman is incorrigible!” the dark-clad cowl and caped figure proclaims with obvious disdain, as he glances away from the monitor showing a blonde putting a vibrator to good use, to the pair of colleagues to his right. “Demanding lesbian love from Zatanna at the end of a psychotherapy session. It’s disgusting!”

“Oh, I don’t know, Bruce,” the green-skinned figure in the center replies softly, “I find your human mating rituals fascinating, even those involving two members of the female gender. That’s why I had Dr. Janko’s bedroom fitted with surveillance equipment as well.”

“Never mind that!” the larger blue-and-red-clad figure to the right interjects. “What are we going to do about Rodriguez, J’onn?”

“About Rodriguez…nothing, Clark,” the alien replies softly. “The Justice League was not assembled to deal with such petty crimes. However, we need to keep our female members out of that man’s reach. I vote we leak the news of what happened to Zatanna, to discourage any further visits to Panama. In view of the Wizard’s contest, now would be a good opportunity to do that.”

“Wait a minute, J’onn!” Bruce protests gruffly. “I thought we agreed, with the Batgirl and Supergirl case, that we should keep that drug lord’s nasty business to ourselves. We don’t want Wonder Woman rushing back to Panama to make the bastard pay!”

“You and Clark voted against releasing the Batgirl and Supergirl story, Bruce,” the Martian replies looking a bit peeved, “despite the fact that Clark has a conflict of interest in Kara’s case. I say we go public with the Supergirl and Batgirl fiasco, as well as leaking Zatanna’s three months of defilement at his hands. Diana won’t risk taking on Rodriguez on her own…now that she’s seen what the Riddler did to Maximoff.”

“Yes,” Bruce hisses angrily, “you forced the Scarlet Witch to self-publish her greatest defeat by having Clark leak the tapes from the bank and the Riddler’s hideout to Lois Lane. You knew she would find out Lois was about to get the scoop, and Clark wanted to punish her for helping the Wizard publish his cousin’s setbacks. I voted against that, remember. However, I agree that, as Diana’s breasts signify her royal status to her Amazon sisters, she may not take on the drug lord, especially after hearing about the Indian’s witchcraft. I vote no to leaking Zatanna’s story. I vote yes for a full scale raid of Rodriguez’s estate!”

“No, I’m with J’onn,” Clark replies softly, “that man is both below the scope of the Justice League’s charter, and too dangerous to take lightly. Until he does something to warrant a full membership raid, we stay out of his territory. I vote we leak the Zatanna tapes to help see to it that he doesn’t warrant that full membership raid in which we are bound to suffer casualties. You heard what Zatanna said he would do to any men he catches.”

“Fine!” Bruce spits with obvious disgust. “You’re going to let that damned drug lord intimidate you. Leak the Zatanna story of you must, but it isn’t fair to keep what happened to Barbara and Kara a secret if you do. I guess that means I change my vote, J’onn.”

“Okay, I’m out voted,” Clark replies with embarrassment on his face, “but please keep what Kara went through confidential for a few more months. I don’t think she’s ready for the teasing she is sure to get when the story of THAT misadventure comes out!”

“Very well, Clark,” J’onn agrees with what passes for a Martian grin on his face, “I’ll see to it that our friends at the Enquirer get the Zatanna story next week, while holding Supergirl and Batgirl’s story for a more appropriate time. Shall we watch Dr. Janko steal one more climax before we adjourn?”

I watch and hear Dr. Elizabeth Janko give one more, loud triple sigh of climax on my left monitor, and watch and listen to the three heroes chuckle on my right monitor. The good doctor left me plenty of time, before our session following MY Enquirer story, to arrange for the piggy back signal to my room in the Wizard’s Lair.

Similarly, the feigned need to powder my nose during the negotiations with the Martian Manhunter on the Watchtower, for the Justice League to use the Chula tissue regenerator device on Zatanna’s brand, had allowed me to install the surveillance equipment in their meeting room. They will find the equipment sooner or later, but I have learned what I needed to know. Big Blue himself was the one who forced my hand with the Riddler affair.

I think perhaps Supergirl will be the featured heroine for the next contest at The Wizard’s Lair. Vladi will like that! I also think that Zatanna’s milk has likely already made it to Thorne. It’s time to put on my Wicked Wanda outfit and give my former boss a visit. I need pictures to go with the story I’m going to make from tonight’s tapes. I’m going to beat the press in publishing a superheroine setback, yet again. I think it’s great to be a heroine who can get away with being bad! I think it’s great to be the Scarlet Witch.

The End