Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Some things were never meant to be.

Discouraging as it was, Mary Jane had always believed this ever since her father took a swing at her mother. Happy endings, loving couples, destiny, it all was a foolish and faraway concept she’d never reach. Being with Peter was the closest she’d ever gotten to believing in love, but even then, their engagement crumbled like graham crackers.

She loved him, she truly loved him, but the universe had an unwritten rule stating neither of them could have what they wanted. Neither of them could ever find happiness in each other. Every time they even came close to being in one another’s lives, some great and terrible thing would drive them further and further apart, and she’d be forced to seek the arms of someone else to keep her warm at night.

Mary Jane never had a lack of sexual partners. While it partially had to do with her connections in the modeling industry and her upbeat personality, she wasn’t naïve enough to dismiss the fact she was an absolute bombshell. Her natural mane of crimson hair and her fair-toned skin were enough to draw heads, but she knew both men's and women’s eyes were drawn to the way her generously ample tits bobbed, and her thick ass jiggled. Whenever she entered a room, all eyes were on her, and she’d become addicted to it.

She kept a strict regimen of diet and exercise, keeping her tummy flat and her slender legs toned. All she had to do was sway her hips and crook a finger, and suddenly her bed would be filled with whomever she wanted. They worshipped her body, lavishing it with soft and sweet kisses and entering her with reverence. It was like she was some holy figure, and they did their best to please their goddess until their cocks were raw and their tongues were sore. But they were never enough.

Because none of them were Peter Parker.

One night with him had ruined sex for her. Nobody could ever compare to his inhuman stamina and unnatural strength. She hadn’t experienced the pleasure of real sex until she was hanging upside down from the ceiling. When Peter made love, he threw his everything into it, and she was addicted to him. She felt so dainty and small when he’d lift her up and jackhammer into her slutty pussy. She truly felt loved by the hours he spent eating her out as she bathed his face with her juices. And when it came to giving him pleasure in return…he’d been the only one to ever claim her asshole. It had only been once because she found it a degrading and awful experience, but she’d given it to him.

But with Peter, she was always competing with two others. Namely “power” and “responsibility”. He could never give them up, no matter how much he loved her back. That was the thing about Peter, while her heart belonged to him, Spider-Man belonged to the world. She’d come to terms with this truth long ago, but it didn’t hurt any less.

But a year ago, something peculiar happened, Peter asked her out on a date. And then another. And another. And they didn’t stop. Sure, some were interrupted, but he kept coming back to her. He never let the excuse he was putting her life in danger get in the way. They went to the park, watched bad movies, and spent time with friends. There was just one little problem.

For some reason, he never asked to spend the night. Never propositioned her for a long and romantic session of lovemaking or even a quickie on a rooftop. But he teased her, God how he teased her, cupping her ass through her leggings and long passionate kisses that left her breathless. But he never touched her intimate place, no matter how much she dripped for him. Every time he swung out of her apartment, she’d lock herself in her bathroom and frantically pleasure herself in the bathtub. They were pitiful and paltry orgasms compared to what Peter could provide, but for whatever reason he was withholding them from her.

She wanted to bring it up, maybe even seduce him, but they were finally happy, and she was terrified she’d break it. But those unfounded fears evaporated when, on one wind-swept rooftop, he pulled out his late aunt’s ring.

It all made sense now. He wanted their first time back together to be special. Such a cornball.

God, she was starving. After fasting for nearly four days to fit into the wedding dress, she could easily eat an entire pizzeria. Through sheer will, she forced her stomach not to growl as the priest had them read their vows. He had a few quips in his, all in good taste, but it moved the congregation to tears by the end of it. Hers paled in comparison, and she felt so inadequate stammering through her scrawled words. Which gave her even more of a complex knowing Peter had his vows memorized.

As for the after-party, she still refrained from eating. While she was considered a goddess by some, she was nothing compared to the guest list. Mary Jane didn’t have anyone close enough to invite, and her family was a whole other matter, but Peter had more than made up for it with all his amazing friends. And seeing them all at once immediately silenced any craving she had to stuff her face.

Her tits were magnificent, but Wanda Maximoff’s were voluptuous. Her face was pretty, but Jean Grey’s was elegant. Her ass was curvy, but Lady Thor’s was literally Godlike. Kitty Pryde’s waist was slimmer, Natasha Romanoff’s hair was redder, Susan Richards's hips were wider, and the list went on and on and on. Maybe she could’ve gotten away with the excuse they were all superhuman or had the legacy formula pumping through their veins…but then there was Felicia Hardy.

She wasn’t certain Peter’s ex would show. But she did. And she was stunning. Everything Mary Jane had worked for, Felica carried with more confidence and grace. She was truly at home in her body, wearing the skimpiest white dress and easily outshining Mary Jane’s own wedding gown. She wanted to run away and hide, but Peter kept his hand in hers, and that made everything better.

Felicia lost. Peter was hers.

When the festivities were done, Stark announced his gift was an all-expense paid trip to the Caribbean, jokingly warning her to “watch out for spiders”. Stephen created a gateway, and the wedding guests waved them goodbye as she and her husband stepped through it. Husband. It felt so right.

Stepping from the cool air of Manhattan and into the heat of the Caribbean was jarring, but not unwelcome, and she quickly ran off to explore their luxury villa. It didn’t take her long to find the bedroom, already covered with red and blue rose petals. Fuck it. Dinner could wait. It’d been nearly a year since she’d last been with him, and she needed him to fill her right then and there.

“Tiger?” she purred, hopping onto the bed. Constantly adjusting and readjusting herself to find the best and most seductive position. Finally settling on lying on her side, head propped up beneath one arm. “You ready to hit this jackpot?”

“Just a moment,” Peter called from outside the room.

Just a moment? She’d been waiting so long for him; she couldn’t wait another second. Any longer and she’d soak through her dress and stain the bed sheets.

“Peter, your wife is waiting for you,” she sang, rubbing her legs together and feeling herself squish with desire.

“In a second…” Peter said, a slight edge in his voice.

Did she do something wrong? Maybe she should just stay quiet and wait patiently. But, again, she’d waited so long already. Fuck the bed, she didn’t need to be comfy while he railed her. She just needed to have something hard and throbbing inside her again. Crawling off the side, wedding gown trailing behind her, Mary Jane left the bedroom to go searching for him.

The villa was massive, and she searched from room to room. Something was wrong. He wouldn’t keep her waiting like this. Finally, she found him on the front porch, staring out over the ocean. His black tux stood out like a shadow before the crystal-clear waters.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Go back to the room,” he said.

“Was it something I—”

“Go!” He snapped, swerving around, eyes wild.

She jumped, clutching her chest. He’d never talked to her like that before. Not with that tone.

She wouldn’t stand for it.

“Peter Parker! What the hell has gotten into you?” she demanded.

“Me.” A sharp toothy grin curled up Peter’s face.

No. Not him. Anyone but him.

She scrambled back into the villa, throwing herself from room to room. She could hear him behind her, leaping from wall to wall, crawling across the ceiling. Why didn’t she think to bring her damn phone? How the hell was she supposed to contact anyone without—

THWIP

Mary Jane squealed as she was yanked off the floor, a black web dangling her from the ceiling. She kicked and flailed, as she spun around until she was face to face with the monster as it hung upside down. Despite his reveal, he still wore her husband’s face, albeit with a wider and pointier grin. In a deep and gravelly voice, “What’s the matter, MJ? Usually, the jitters come before the wedding.”

“Where’s Peter!” she wriggled in the mess, the tendrils wrapping around her arms and binding them to her sides. “The hell did you do to him?”

“I am Peter,” the monster grinned, “Is it the voice?” It reverted to his normal tone, “Better?”

“Peter wouldn’t talk to me that way!” Mary Jane snarled, her emerald eyes burning with hatred.

“Even if I found out about you sleeping around?” His brow furrowed, and a shadow crossed his face. “During our engagement.”

Mary Jane stiffened, she’d been so careful, only spending time at other apartments and renting hotel rooms. She wanted to be faithful to Peter, she really did, but a girl had needs and she was only human. Did he really expect her to wait a whole year like…like a good fiancé would…

“I’m sorry,” her head sagged, her cheeks burning with shame, “I didn’t…you have to understand…I had to—”

“You had to satisfy that dirty itch, didn’t you?” Peter asked the usual levity in his tone done. “The symbiote told me that’s what you’d do. I didn’t want to believe it. But it was right. I didn’t want to see it. Always looking for the best in people. But I was wrong.”

He chuckled, “This last year has been hell. Trying to get this thing off me. I thought somebody would notice in the first six months. But nobody did. I think somewhere along the way, I lost my mind.

“Do you know how often I’ve needed help? Or how much I’ve sacrificed for the people I love? But the moment I need someone…nobodies there. I held out so long, waiting for someone to save me. But a guy can only take so much.”

He wasn’t wrong. That’s the chilling part. Their friends, his colleagues, even her…it was always Peter against the world. Always there for others but left alone when he needed people most.

“The symbiote—”

“The symbiote is the only one that’s been there for me.” Peter snapped back, “Were you?”

And suddenly she was left with nothing more to say. He was too far gone. And it was all her fault.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked, daring to look back up into his piercing glare and immediately regretting it. “You could’ve broken up with me. Why pretend for so long?”

“I was going to, I wanted to, but the symbiote offered me another option,” he flipped around, landing on the floor with barely a sound. “It convinced me you’d make a good pet.”

“Pet?”

She yelped as the tendril dropped her to the floor, her knees buckled beneath her, and she collapsed in a heap. Her veil fell in front of her face, covering her fair skin. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening. Peter wouldn’t listen to the symbiote, there had to be something else going on. “Peter, we can get help! We can tell the others! Talk to me!”

Flipping her head up, her nose brushed against something thick and hard. There it was. The cock she’d been dreaming about all year. The cock that’d been so close to her, but she never had the chance to touch it. The cock that’d brought her to more mouthwatering orgasms than any other man or woman had ever achieved. It was right there. The heat of it pressed against her pert nose.

“I think we’ve done enough talking,” Peter said, flipping her veil up and over her head. She could see him clearly now in all his magnificence. He was bigger than she remembered, with thick veins pulsing along his pale shaft. The thick and meaty head was already greased with his precum, the slit oozing more down in one thick glob.

“What makes you think I’ll do it?” Mary Jane asked, though her dazzling green eyes remained locked on his length. Her pink tongue snuck out to lick her rosy lips.

“You’re a slut, MJ,” he said, “It’s what you were born to do.”

No. He was wrong. He had to be. But…she breathed in the thick scent of his manly musk. Slightly sour and bitter, but still she sniffed at his head like a bloodhound. She wanted to taste it, to run her tongue along his greasy head and lap up all that cum he saved. How much was in those thick, clementine-sized balls? They looked heavy, brimming with his virile seed. The heat emanating from them was so strong, almost too strong.

She pressed her nose against his cockhead, sniffling in his scent. The scent of the man she’d been lusting after. Here he was, in all his glory, she couldn’t pass this up. In that moment, she didn’t care whether he was Venom or Peter, there was only her need. Her unfulfilled craving for his cock.

Her plump lips popped open, already wet with anticipation, and her tongue slipped out. It lapped at the underside of his manhood, slick but also leathery and hot. It was better than she remembered, and when she slipped her tongue back inside her mouth, she tasted the salty but creamy confection that was his precum. She moaned like a needy bitch, running it over her teeth to etch his flavor into her mouth. It wasn’t enough, she needed seconds.

“Good girl,” his hand patted her head like she was an animal, and she felt happy. Content. Worshipped for so long, this was the first time anyone had thrown her into the proverbial dirt and treated her like a slab of meat. It was degrading, it was humiliating, it was…fucking wonderful. Already, she was soaking through her panties and dousing the floor.

No, this was Venom. This was still a monster.

But it hadn’t hurt her. If anything, it was opening her up to something more. She didn’t know what she wanted, her loins were on fire and her head was foggy with lust. Having Peter’s cock in her mouth after pining for it for so long…she couldn’t pass up this chance. She couldn’t give up the wonderful cream already being scooped up by her tongue. What if this was Peter? What if she liked this new him?

“Deeper,” Peter said, gripping her scarlet hair and tugging lightly. It didn’t hurt, but it was a reminder. A reminder of her new place in life. She nodded, prying open her maw, craning her head back, and forcing herself down on his cock.

Mary Jane was far from a novice. If anything, she’d been fascinated by cocks since she first learned about them. But oral had always been a choice, a gift to be given, and all her lovers thanked her profusely for her lavish and talented ministrations. It’d been loving, slow, and gentle.

But the moment Peter’s hands gripped her ruby hair, she knew this wasn’t going to be anything like that. In the same moment he slammed her down on his rod he bucked into her face. Her nose mashed into his groin and her chin slapped against his balls. Her throat was full and truly stuffed, she could barely breathe with her nose pressed flat against his skin. Her esophagus stretched to accommodate him, her throat bulging obscenely as she struggled to keep him down.

“Even here, you’re loose,” Peter grunted, drawing himself back out with a sickening schhhhhhlunnnk. Mary Jane’s tongue dragged along the underside of his shaft, her eyes bulging as more and more of him pulled out of her throat. It just kept going. There seemed no end to him. Finally, her mouth was stuffed with the bulbous head, and she quickly wrapped her lips around it. “Tighten it.”

How? How was she supposed to tighten her throat?

Timidly, Mary Jane’s trembling fingers wrapped around her neck, pressing her thumbs against her trachea. As she sealed off her air supply, her eyes pleaded for his approval, and he grinned. With a sudden thrust, he bottomed himself inside her, and immediately she gagged. But her hands remained wrapped around her neck as he skull fucked her face, feeling the head of his cock move beneath her thumbs.

GLUK-GLUK-GLUk-GLUK-GLUK

Ropes of thick goopy saliva hung in strands from his balls to her lips. 

“Tighter!” he demanded.

She needed air. But she also needed to please her husband. She dug her thumbs in more, the aching in her neck causing her eyes to water. But she had to be good. She owed Peter this much. She owed him so much more for sleeping around.

Darkness invaded the corners of her eyes as Mary Jane slowly drifted away. She didn’t even realize he’d yanked himself free until he was slapping the sides of her face with his rod.

“Wake up!”

He slapped her in the eye with his cockhead, and she squeaked in pain. Her hands fell from her neck and flew to her eye.

“You’re still too loose, but there’s nothing for it. Just suck my cock until I cum.”

She meekly nodded, knowing she’d failed as a wife. Passing herself around had left her worthless to him. But maybe her lips would suffice.

She seized upon his dick, hungrily caving in her cheeks as she sucked with all her might. Her tongue flicked over his head before curling around it. Her hands wrapped around his shaft, still dripping with her spit and his pre, and jerked him off with all the loving tenderness she could offer. She pumped up and down, suckled the precum from his shaft, and gulped down what little sticky goodness she could. She moaned and hummed and made noises that drove men wild. Surely this was enough.

But when she looked up, she only saw disappointment.

“You’re pathetic,” Peter sighed. “Fuck it, we’ll do it the hard way.”

Peter ripped himself from her lips and suddenly Mary Jane was thrown on the ground. She screamed, her fingernails digging into the floor as she tried to crawl away. But Peter was already flipping up her dress and exposing her garter belt. She knew what was coming, she knew what the hard way was before he even prodded her asshole.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this again,” Peter hissed, thwapping his massive cock against her puckered hole. The obscene slapping noises sent shivers up her spine. “So much time spent holding back, when all I had to do was take what I want.”

“No! Please! I’ll do better!” Mary Jane cried, tightening her hole in a vain attempt to keep him out.

“This is plenty.”

“PLEEEEEEEEASE!” Mary Jane screamed as he broke through her clenched backside, tearing through her muscles and driving up into her guts. Big hot tears poured down her face, ruining what was left of her makeup. It felt like a truck was being shoved inside her, barreling down on her and driving into her so hard and deep she couldn’t catch her breath.

“Now we know what you’re good for!” Peter laughed, hilting himself inside her snug asshole.

She was burning, her hole was on fire, she couldn’t take much more of this. Her eyes rolled into the back of her skull as he began hammering into her abused ass. If this was how it felt with all her spit lubing him up, she’d hate to imagine what it would’ve been like dry.

Again, he wrapped her hair around his hands, using them as little more than reins. Her back arced backward, and her breasts thrust out as she was pulled nearly at a ninety-degree angle. Every time he thrust in, he’d yank her back harder. God, she could feel her insides being stirred around as he wrecked her tiny hole.

“Beg for it!” Peter roared, hammering away at her ass.

“P-please!” Mary Jane cried, “H-harder!”

“With feeling!”

“Fuck my ass harder!” Only the whites of her eyes were showing now, her neck straining as she was pulled back further than ever before. It had to end here; she couldn’t take much more. “Cum in me! Please, Peter! Cum in my hole!”

“Yesssss!” Peter hissed, bottoming out. He let go, and Mary Jane collapsed on the floor. Her insides were seared with hot sticky cream, flooding her bowels with his healthy load. She could feel him twitching inside her, her guts churning as his seed gushed around. It was unnatural, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Her throat ached, her ass burned, and her whole body was wracked with agony.

But her clit had never throbbed harder in her life.

Peter plopped from the asshole, a flood of his seed bathing her wedding dress. Air flooded her gaping hole, and she moaned in despair. Would it ever go back to normal? Or had he ruined her ass beyond repaid.

No. It didn’t matter. She needed him to finally fill her.

“Tiger, please…” she gasped, “I need it…”

“Oh, you do?” Peter asked, “How about this…”

She was suddenly eye level with his cock again, though this time, it was straight from her ass.

“Clean me up, and I’ll think about it.”

There was no use. She knew her place.

Opening her mouth, Mary Jane obediently wrapped her lips around his dirty cock.

The moans coming from within the closet weren’t of pleasure, but misery. They were his personal symphony. With how he’d webbed her to the wall, with her fingers stuck mere centimeters from her clit, she wouldn’t be able to touch herself until he released her. And that wouldn’t be for much, much longer. But he didn’t mind the ambiance. If anything, it kept him focused on his work.

Flipping through the files on his phone, he looked over all his little side projects. He’d spent the year amassing an army of spider drones, all dispersed throughout the city and some even further. They’d been amassing data on certain individuals he’d had in mind for the first step of his great plan. Mary Jane was barely a preface, but she was somewhat necessary.

He wasn’t certain whether the symbiote had awakened something in him or whether these feelings were implanted, but he honestly didn’t care. The world had opened up so much since he’d claimed his first conquest, though that was a story for another time, and now he was addicted to the power he exerted over the women in his life.

Meanwhile, his cover was intact. Nobody would suspect the happily married friendly neighborhood Spider-Man of what would shake their world next.

With a lazy yawn, Peter gave his phone one last look, before tossing it onto the bed. It bounced once, then twice, then landed face up showing off a folder marked: Felicia Hardy.  

Chapter Text

Wallowing in the pitch darkness, Felicia Hardy curled up in a little ball on the cold concrete. The studs on her leather collar clinked against the floor as she rolled over. Her bare back rubbed against the grit and loose dirt bit into her pale flesh.

She shivered, clutching her naked body, still sticky with various fluids. Baths were a thing of the past, a distant memory fading from her weary mind. Much like clothes and decent food, they were privileges meant for people. Whether she’d ever be considered a person again was still under consideration. It all depended on how well she behaved herself.

The basement door creaked open; the harsh blinding light bathed the wooden steps. Felicia flinched away, shrinking further into the darkness to escape the burning brightness. She quickly grabbed her hair, draping it over her face to hide her eyes from him. Her once luxurious white mane, her pride and joy, was now stained a deep sickly amber. The strands were tangled like a rat’s nest, crusty and sticky like the rest of her.

Propping herself up, heavy breasts hanging low beneath her, she blinked up at the figure outlined by daylight. His shadow encompassed her fragile body, like a towering oak tree, and she cowered within it. Trembling, she dared not look him in the eyes, staring instead at the only part of him that should matter to a pathetic whore like her.

“Were you good today?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir,” she rasped out. Her throat was raw, the bitter acidic taste coating her mouth.

“You sound hoarse,” he clucked, “are you thirsty?”

God, no. Please. Not again. But she knew what he wanted her to say.

“Yes, Sir,” she nodded.

“Open.” Despite it being an order, he said it with such blasé casualness, like they were still the same people they used to be. Or rather, that she was still the human she used to be.

Felica pulled her hair aside like a curtain, revealing the last stitch of clothing she was still allowed: her black mask.

Obediently opening her mouth, Felicia’s pink tongue slipped out. She waited; eyes locked on his pants as Peter pulled out his cock. He didn’t say anything as he bathed her with his piss, Felicia struggling to guzzle down as much as she could.

She could escape at any time.

But this was the life she chose.

Weeks ago, Felicia received an invitation from the last person she expected.

Mary Jane Watson. Or rather, Mary Jane Watson-Parker.

Jealousy burned within her at the thought of that woman draped over her Spider. Slammed against the wall, her mouth pressed against his, screaming their names into one another. Wicked thoughts like these permeated her tortured mind, often sending her over the edge as she masturbated on her silk sheets. That’s all she had to keep her comfort, knowing that Peter was happy.

So, an invitation to dinner with the two was surprising, to say the least, and she didn’t know how to respond. Leaving the message unanswered for a few days, she finally decided to bite the bullet and shoot back a quick text. The next night, she was standing outside a small home in Queens, holding an expensive bottle of wine she’d…acquired.

After the wedding, she knew better than to try and upstage Mary Jane again. She’d gotten a few dirty looks from others and ended up embarrassing herself. Tonight, she decided on something more casual, but still able to accentuate her best features. The t-shirt and denim jacket did little to hide her impressive bust, maybe a size larger than Mary Jane’s, and tight-fitting jeans gave her just enough wiggle when she swayed her thick hips. It didn’t scream “I’m seducing your husband” but it could prompt him in the right direction.

Dinner went swimmingly, they were the perfect hosts. Mary Jane was genuinely polite, with her dazzling smile and quick wit. It was only matched by Peter, who was charming as always. Often, she’d find herself watching the happy couple, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach knowing that’d never be her.

She excused herself to use their bathroom, fully expecting to leap out the window and flee into the night. Something she was all too used to doing as the Black Cat. As she tested the window, an annoyingly frank truth reared its head. If she ran, she’d be admitting defeat. And she refused to do anything of the sort.

Washing up, she was about to rejoin the others, when she noticed a large plastic dog crate beside the bathtub. So lost in thought, that she hadn’t even seen it there. She was losing her edge; dogs were typically the first thing she noticed when entering a home. Peeking out between the bars of the crate were what looked like the fringes of a white dress. It looked strangely familiar, and Felicia smirked thinking about Peter struggling to raise a dog. He probably just threw whatever he could at the bottom to serve as a dog’s bed. Chuckling, Felica returned to the dining room where Mary Jane was collecting the dishes and Peter was flipping through his phone.

“Domesticated already, Red?” Felicia asked, hoping it came off as teasing and not mocking.

“You’ve no idea,” Peter chuckled, and Mary Jane tittered shyly. An inside joke, great, that made her feel welcome. “Take a seat, I was hoping you could help me out with something.”

She was all too eager to slink into the varnished seat beside him. Being this close, she could smell his aftershave and detergent on his clothes. It was the same he used to wash his suit, the same scent he’d left in her bed before he returned to Mary Jane. Embarrassing as it was, she’d tracked down the brand and now used it to wash her undergarments.

“Work or play?” Felicia asked, peeking over his shoulder.

“A little of both,” Peter said. “Give me just a second, my service is terrible.”

“Take your time…” Felicia looked around their small home. She knew it’d belonged to his late aunt, so naturally it had some dated décor, but it was homey. Nice. However, one thing bothered her. “Did you get a dog?”

A clatter came from the kitchen.

“You okay in there?” Peter called out to Mary Jane.

“Fine,” she laughed from around the corner, “just…dropped something in the sink. I’ll be out in a second.”

“So, what did you want to show me?” Felicia asked, driving the conversation back to them.

“This,” Peter flipped the phone around and Felcia’s heart sank.

She blinked, swallowed, and started, “Peter, you have to understand—”

“What?” Peter asked, turning it around to eye the screen. “You know what they say about pornography, right? You know it when you see it.”

“Where did you even—”

“Does it matter?” Peter asked, flipping through images. He whistled, “Wow…some of these…”

A spark of anger ignited in Felicia’s chest. “You know what? I don’t need you to judge me over what I do with my body.”

“And the cat?” Peter smirked.

Fuck. He had pictures of that?

Felicia’s milky skin turned a dark shade of pink, her eyes darted to the floor, her hands clasped in her lap. It wasn’t something she was proud of, no, far from it. She’d been…curious. All she did was put a little bit of wet food on her…it wasn’t important. The point was she never wanted to do it again, much less be reminded of it by her ex. What the hell was he playing at?

“Delete it,” she demanded.

“Really? I was thinking of uploading it. What do you think? Pussy on Pussy? Or Kitty Shares Cream?”

“Fuck you!” Felicia slammed her fist on the table, the remaining dishes clinking. “Delete it right now!”

“Or what?” Peter smirked. “You’ll attack me? I think we both know how that’ll turn out.”

Felicia swiped for the phone, but as usual, he’d already jerked it away seconds before she could get her hands on it. Every move she made wasn’t fast enough. He laughed as she scrambled for the phone, throwing aside the chairs, lunging at him. They tore through the dining room, knocking pictures off the walls and toppling shelves.

“Okay, bored now.” Peter shot a wad of webbing at her wrist, gluing her arm to the wall.

Winded, Felicia screamed, “The hell is wrong with you?!”

Peter grinned, “So, so much.” He rolled his shoulders and a dark ripple cascaded over his clothes. It was a ripple she was familiar with; one she’d hoped to never see again.

“Peter—"

“Don’t.” He said, “Believe me. Someone better than you already tried.” He turned toward the kitchen door, “Bitch!”

Stumbling from the kitchen, completely nude, Mary Jane dropped to her knees and threw herself onto the wooden floor. Felicia’s heart thundered, watching her rival struggle to prostrate herself further. A long scarlet tail was nestled between her ass cheeks, sufficiently plugged. Her long, luscious hair was tied in two bright red pigtails, and a bright pink collar was wrapped around her neck.

“Oh my God…” Felicia gasped.

“So, here’s what’s going to happen,” Peter cracked his neck, “You’re going to do one little favor for me, or this video goes everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. You don’t follow through, and everywhere from the Savage Land to the Kree Empire will be watching you get down and dirty with your kitty.”

He could do that. With his resources and his influence, everyone would know what she’d done. Her mind raced; she could start over in a new country, wear a different face, get a new identity, it was all possible. But…Peter would’ve thought of that already.

“You’re resourceful, Felicia, I’ll give you that. But we both know you won’t start over. Your name means too much to you. It’s why you never changed it. Hey, do you think this will overshadow your father’s legacy? This video will get a helluva lot more clicks than one about some washed-up dead cat burglar.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Felicia growled.

“Adorable. But…” He strutted up to her, ripping the webbing off her hand, “…I won't force you. You can either belong to me or you can forever be Felicia Bestiality Hardy. It’s up to you.”

Change her name. Change her face. Change everything and she’ll keep her dignity.

But…

Felicia Hardy was the name her daddy gave her.

Rubbing her wrist, Felicia sniffled and said, “Fine.”

“Excuse me?”

“Fine!” she snapped. “One favor!”

She just needed to play along until she could find a way to delete those videos. Then she’ll have to decide whether to save Peter or kill him.

Her plan fell apart within the first two days. She tried breaking into his computer, but it was guarded by Stark Tech. She tried to discreetly send for help, but she couldn’t make a move without his spider-bots watching her. She tried to get help from Mary Jane, but the woman was useless. Her dedication to Peter was either fanatical or delusional. Probably both.

Whatever the symbiote had done to him wasn’t like last time. Studying the way he moved and the way he talked, he was still Peter. He still cracked jokes, he still tinkered with his inventions, and went to work and saved lives. But when he was alone with her and Mary Jane, he was a completely different person. So, either the symbiote was very good at pretending to be Peter or maybe this was a side of Peter she never saw. Maybe he’d always been a sadist.

So far, he hadn’t touched her. Hadn’t even given her a second glance. Too busy tormenting Mary Jane with the promise of a fucking that never seemed to come. It wasn’t until the third day that she was called upon for that special favor she’d promised him.

Entertainment. That’s what she was. She had to be the entertainment at a party for some of his friends. It was demeaning, but it wasn’t anything she was unfamiliar with doing. She’d often used her body to get what she wanted, though she was usually the one in control. She doubted Peter would hold up his end of the bargain, but maybe she could buy herself some more time to reach the Fantastic Four or Daredevil. They’d know what to do.

The evening was uneventful. She danced, she stripped, she gave a few blow jobs and one quickie and then she was done. It was humiliating, but she’d had worse. Thank God they didn’t last long, she didn’t want the night to turn into a marathon.

As they were leaving, Felicia heard one of them from the other room.

“Thanks, Mr. Parker!”

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

As soon as they left, Felicia asked, “Peter…how old were they?”

Peter pointed up at the ceiling. The lens of a spider-bot glinted in the light.

“Smile for the camera.”

Felicia gave up on escaping. She gave up on fighting back. She gave up on everything except pleasing Peter the best she could. He held all the cards now. It was different when it’d just been the one video, but now there were witnesses. Witnesses and victims. The Black Cat was a predator. It changed everything.

When he asked her if she wanted to donate all her assets and belongings, she said yes. When he asked her if she wanted to throw her gear in a dumpster, she said yes. When he asked her if she was comfortable living in the basement, she said yes. When he asked her if she’d like to be his urinal, well, there was only one real answer.

Which is how she ended up gulping down his sour piss.

Once Peter’s stream had turned to a trickle, he flicked his flaccid cock at her face, ridding himself of the last few yellow droplets. They landed on her plump upper lip, and Felicia lapped them up without being prompted. She’d gotten used to the bitter acidic taste now, it was her new water. Once she’d finished licking her lips clean, she took his cock in her mouth and began sucking whatever was left.

He wasn’t even hard and still, he was a mouthful. But Felicia obediently hollowed her cheeks as she suckled.

“You want to know a secret?” Peter asked.

Felicia nodded, though she honestly didn’t care.

“Remember that party?” Peter smiled.

She shivered, her stomach flipped, and she felt bile welling up in the back of her throat. But again, she nodded.

“They were all twenty.”

Her eyes widened.

“Does that change anything for you?”

It would’ve changed everything.

She would’ve kept fighting him. She would’ve tried harder. She would’ve held onto hope.

She wouldn’t have given up. She wouldn’t have given away all her things. She wouldn’t have felt like trash for the past few weeks. She wouldn’t be where she was now.

Owning nothing.

Being nothing.

“You look sad,” Peter said, “Are you sad?”

She nodded.

He hardened in her mouth.

“You want me to fuck you to make you feel better?”

No! She wanted…what did she want? Her old life? Her things? Her dignity?

It was already gone. And she doubted she could ever summon the strength to rebuild after everything he’d made her do.

But being fucked? That was right in front of her.

She nodded.

“Put your hands on the wall, legs apart.”

Obeying his command, she assumed the position, placing her bare hands against the cold concrete wall. She shivered in shame and anticipation, gasping when his hand traced the curve of her round ass. He pinched her supple cheek, and she bit her bottom lip to silence herself, only to squeal when he struck her backside with a sharp stinging slap.

“What was that?” Peter demanded.

“Nothing, Sir!” she cried, clamping her lips shut.

“Not a sound.” He struck her ass again, for good measure, and she swallowed her cry. He slapped her again and again, her weakened body trembling beneath his flurry of strikes. But she had to be good, she needed to be good if she was to get her fucking. And she wanted her fucking so badly. She just needed to be quiet a little longer and—

His girthy rod rammed inside her dewy cunt, splitting her open and filling her in one quick thrust. He ground against her tender G-spot in a way only Peter knew how, eliciting a long and uncontrollable wail from the defeated and broken thief. She didn’t even care when he began beating her ass, the pain only made the pleasure even more divine. If anything, she pressed her backside out further, greedily swallowing up more of him inside her. He was so big, and even when he was punishing her, he knew how to keep her coming back for more.

“Are you getting off on this?” Peter demanded. “Answer me!”

“Yes!” Felicia cried, and she was rewarded for her honesty by having her meaty hips gripped in his large hands. He pummeled her pussy, loud wet squelching noises rebounded off the walls with every bone-shaking pound.

He was a force of nature, tearing through her and claiming the deepest parts of her body. Over and over, he struck her cervix, lifting her an inch off the ground. It hurt, but like all the other pain, she loved it. She loved the way he slapped her, pinched her, abused her. It was what she deserved for being so weak and stupid. To be tricked into giving away everything so damn easily. She was nothing. She’d always been nothing. But at least her holes had something to offer.

“Slap your tits!” Peter barked, the sound of a smile in his voice.

“Y-yes, Sir!” Bracing herself with one hand, she reeled back with the other. She struck the gooseflesh on her heaving breast, stiffening at the light pain. It wasn’t enough. She knew it wouldn’t be enough. She tried again. Violently assaulting her chest. Tears crept down the corners of her eyes as she continued beating herself.

“Like this?” she cried.

SMACK

“Like this?” she sobbed.

SMACK

“L-like this?” she wept.

The last one grazed her nipple, and she screamed in agony, her sensitive pink bud burning. She clutched her chest, protecting it, desperately hoping it’d been enough to please him.

“More like this,” Peter seethed.

His hands reached around her, roughly latching onto her sensitive nipples, and viciously twisted them. Felicia shrieked, her already raw throat burning. He was slamming into her faster now, the loud clapping of her ass echoing around the basement. The scent of their sex, the sound of the slapping, the pain in her tits, and the pleasure in her cunt…it was all too much.

She smelled the spearmint on his breath when he breathed into her ear, “Daddy would be so proud of you.”

Her orgasm seared through her like a bolt of lightning. Striking her clit and splashing the floor with her juices. She couldn’t even tell whether it was tears of joy or piss on her face. She was lost to the pleasure. Her peak had never been higher, her cries never shriller, but just when she thought she’d reached the summit…he flicked her clit.

“Ooooooh fuuuuuuck!” Felicia screamed; her little nub manhandled by his calloused fingers. He furiously teased it, rubbing his hand back and forth over her already drenched nethers. The sloppy splashing of her arousal on the floor kept going, her peak continued climbing to heights she never dared experience. “I’m…I’m…”

Oh God, it was happening again. She could feel her already burnt nerves reigniting. The fires inside her burned brighter and hotter until they boiled through her core. She was bubbling, frothing, burning, she was in hell, and it had never felt so wonderful. 

Her inner walls clamped down around the still pistoning cock as she rode her orgasm into another. And then another. Thoughts slipped through her fingers as she could only focus on milking the most from her next peak. Drool spilled from her lips, hanging down like threads, and stuck to her heavy tits. For just a second, a flicker of fear invaded, and she trembled at the thought that this would break her.

I certainly broke her body. Her knees reduced to jelly, her arms quaking, she would’ve collapsed if Peter hadn’t seized her around the waist and hoisted her up.

Suddenly, she felt him twitch inside her cunt, and Peter hissed as he unloaded himself into her hole. He bottomed out inside her, pumping her channel full of his virile seed and flooding her fertile womb. She was beyond caring at this point, lost in the haze of pleasure. Propped up on weak legs, he bred her like an animal.

It wasn’t long before she couldn’t hold any more of his cream. It spurted out of her, spraying her legs and bathing her inner thighs. She was plastered with it, reeking of cum and stale piss. She should be miserable, but if anything, she savored the warmth flooding her tight canal. It soothed the ache in her inner walls. Soon she’d be sore, covered in bruises, and likely need an icepack to even sit up.

He dropped her on the ground, and she landed on her ample chest, knocking the wind from her lungs. She was still panting, still struggling to piece her mind back together, if that was even possible at this point. Only one thought permeated the fog in her mind. There was no going back after this. Peter was the only one who could satisfy these new and depraved needs.

Cum oozed from her pussy and plopped on the floor. She reached down between her legs, scooping it up and bringing it to her lips. She licked it up, savoring the salty flavor of their combined juices. Languishing in her pit, she jumped when she felt something wet and hot touch her pussy. Startled, she saw the equally naked Mary Jane noisily lapping at her cunt. The woman eagerly slurped the cum from her pussy, drinking up as much as she could.

“Felicia.”

She flinched at her name, looking up to see Peter looming over her.

“If you’re good, you’ll get another next month.”

Next month? She’d have to wait a whole month?

“You’re so lucky,” Mary Jane pulled her head from Felicia’s cunt, gooey cum dribbling down her chin, “Mine is in a year.”

Peter threw some kibble into the dog crate before slamming the door shut.  He could hear Mary Jane busily scarfing them down, she hadn’t eaten all day. He considered giving her a real bed, but having her bedding be her wedding dress was too devious to pass up. Leaving the bathroom behind, he collapsed on the couch. It was nice having the house to himself.

Pulling up his phone, he checked whether his latest acquisition was doing her job. Sure enough, the livestream had been going on for a good twenty minutes. Lately, her viewers have become more active with their donations. The comments were flying by so quickly that even he had a hard time reading them.

Her usual white and pink suit had holes cut in the crotch and chest, exposing her tits and pussy to her millions of viewers. Her legs were splayed open, showing off her lower lips. In one hand she held a flyswatter and in the other, she held a keychain taser.

“W-wow…” Screwball stammered. “A lot of you want me to use the T-Taser, huh?” She swallowed, “B-but theirs still twenty seconds! Maybe we could…”

Peter smiled, watching the poll numbers drastically increase for Taser. 

While watching Screwball was amusing, she was just a means to the next person on his list. He turned off the stream just as Screwball began her bloodcurdling shriek.

Chapter Text

Gwen couldn’t decide which was worse. How she’d missed Peter and Mary Jane’s wedding or how they hadn’t invited her band to play at the venue. Granted, having the Mary Jane’s play for Mary Jane could’ve torn reality asunder, but it still would’ve been nice to be considered. Of course, maybe they had, and her invite was lost somewhere between the Age of Apocalypse and Earth X.

Swinging through a sleepy afternoon in Queens, Gwen breathed in the scent of Earth 616. Every universe had a different scent or feel, and 616 wasn’t any different. It was heavier. Scents were thicker and everything was weightier than back in her dimension. There was a gravity to this world, and she often felt like she was just flitting through it. Which was probably for the best when it came to Peter.

Her Peter Parker died years ago, some say by her hand, which made being friends with another tricky at best. At first, she thought it was ghoulish. But, after hearing what happened to his Gwen Stacy, they found they both felt the same. And unlike her, he’d moved on. He had his own life to live, and now his own family to raise. It was everything she’d hoped her Peter would’ve had if he’d had the chance. But Gwen couldn’t help feeling there was still something wrong.

It’d been heartbreaking to hear his May had died, and it made sense he’d go radio silent. But a whole year? A year of nothing and suddenly he’s married. Something wasn’t right, and maybe Gwen had the distance to see it. But there lay the problem, she hadn’t been around. She could only hope his loved ones had been there for him.

Leaping into his backyard, Gwen jogged up to the back door. It was locked. Sliding her hand along the top of the doorframe, she snatched the little key wedged into a crack. No matter the reality, every Peter hid a key to their home at least two feet from their door.

Stepping inside, she gingerly shut the door behind her and slid her pink hood and mask up and over her face. The house was immaculate. Odd, because her Mary Jane was a complete and utter slob. One of the weird differences between realities, she supposed. In any case, it didn’t seem like anyone was home. Typically, she’d announce her arrival, but Gwen had ulterior motives.

Creeping to the basement door, Gwen’s lithe body trembled with excitement. The crotch of her tights was already dewy, and she hoped it wouldn’t be too noticeable when they came home.

Peter could never know. None of them could. But in these quiet little moments, Gwen surrendered to her needs and indulged her twisted fetish. It was embarrassing and filthy, but she couldn’t help herself. Sometimes she needed to let off some steam. And if that meant doing something a little dirty, then so be it.

Gwen peeled down her black tights, exposing her shaved and puffy sex. It was already sticky to the touch. Shuffling to the basement door, she stood on her trained tiptoes and slunk the handle between her thighs. She quivered, grinding her sweet and supposedly innocent pussy against the cold metal. The thought of Peter or Mary Jane touching her juices later…it was deliciously perverted. Humping the gilded knob, she left her fluids on the shiny metal, before dragging it up against her clit. This was the last time. She swore it.

Humping a little harder, her knee knocked against the door and she craned her head back to moan.

“Sir?”

Gwen cursed, yanking up her tights and staggering back. Fuck. Someone was home. Had they been here the whole time? She had to go, had to run before anyone found out about—

Sir?

Gwen gingerly grabbed the knob, gooey with her arousal, and turned. The afternoon light flooded down the basement steps, slicing through the darkness. But as she descended, something else rose. A potent and unbearably strong scent. Thick and rancid, she couldn’t tug her mask down over her mouth fast enough. It reeked like a men’s bathroom, though don’t ask her how she knew, and she nearly choked. But still, she continued downwards.

“Y-you’re not Sir,” a woman’s voice croaked. Gwen peered into the dark, seeing the outline of a woman curled up on the floor. She was naked, her hair ratty and crusty. Her large pale breasts hung from her chest and her legs were splayed out, unabashedly exposing herself. But behind that mess of sickly amber hair was a mask. A mask Gwen was very familiar with.

“Felicia?” Gwen asked, reaching the bottom step. There was no doubt, the infamous Black Cat was wallowing in a puddle of old piss.

“You…” Felicia murmured, propping herself up off the floor. Her collar jingled around her throat. With a wry chuckle, she asked, “…here to save me, are you?”

“What happened?”

“I’m waiting for my hero,” Felicia’s eye twitched as she smiled up at the little heroine.

Gwen was being pulled in a thousand directions. Should she get help? Should she carry the woman out? Should she stay with her? Her eyes took in the whole scene and came to one conclusion. Nothing was keeping Felicia here. The door had been unlocked, there were windows leading out, and the collar looked more decorative than anything. An accomplished thief like her could leave at any time.

“Did-did Peter do this?” The words were poison on her tongue, but it was the only feasible answer.

“Sir loves me,” Felicia purred, “and in two weeks, he’ll show how much he loves me again.”

In Gwen’s heart of hearts, she prayed he hadn’t done this. The Peter she knew wouldn’t subject a woman to something so terrible. But this wasn’t the Peter she knew. And maybe the Peter she thought she knew had been something else this entire time. Whatever the case, something inside Felicia was broken. She needed to get her out before Peter came back.

“C’mon Felicia, let’s go.” Gwen reached for the woman.

“No!” Felicia reeled back, curling up in the corner. “Nobody can touch me but Sir! Nobody!” Hyperventilating, her body shuddered, “If-if-if you touch me, Sir won’t play with me for a month! Don’t come near me!”

Gwen tried again, “Felicia—”

“Get away from me!” Felicia screamed.

Upstairs, Gwen heard a thump. Was that Peter? Was he back? Giving Felicia one last look, Gwen silently scaled the basement steps. Landing soundlessly, she closed the door behind her with scarcely a click. She’d have to come back for her. But until then, she needed to get help. This Peter had been Spider-Man for at least twice as long as she’d been Spider-Woman. She’d assemble the others. There had to be a reason.

“Gwen?”

She spun around, ready to strike, but was instead met with another horror.

“Whoa, easy,” Mary Jane giggled, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “It’s not very often I can sneak up on one of you.”

The interaction would’ve been normal, it should’ve been normal given the levity in Mary Jane’s voice. But the woman was just like Felicia, collared and bare from the neck down. Her freckled tits jiggled as she laughed, and Gwen couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Lowering her hands, Mary Jane said, “Peter didn’t tell me you were coming. Otherwise, I would’ve made snacks.”

“Oh…” Gwen nodded, “…well, you know how Peter can be.”

“Oh, believe me,” Mary Jane sighed, “between all the girls coming in and out of here, I don’t even know who I’m cleaning up after next.” She peered past Gwen to the basement door, “Are you done using the urinal? I really need to go.”

“What?” Gwen’s eyes widened beneath her mask. “Oh…right. Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Mary Jane skittered past her, turning the knob. “Oh, and if you do get hungry you can help yourself to some of my food on the table. They’re supposed to be great for your teeth.”

“Sure thing,” Gwen smiled beneath her mask, seeing Mary Jane descend the steps. Glancing at the kitchen table, Gwen shuddered seeing an open box of dog treats. The cover advertised a fuller coat, cleaner teeth, and a new bacon flavor. What the hell had Peter done to them? And could it be undone? She had to believe it could.

Readying to dart out the backdoor, Gwen flinched upon hearing a cavalcade of thuds from upstairs. More people? Was one of them Peter? It didn’t matter, this whole situation made her sick. She’d pass this off to someone else, someone capable of fixing…whatever the hell this was.

Suddenly, she heard was sounded like a strangled cry. It was quiet, muffled, but she could just make it out. A woman? It sounded like it. As much as she wanted to leave this horrible house behind, she couldn’t abandon someone. But she couldn’t be stupid about it either. As much as she’d been welcome at the Parker household, this was now enemy territory and she’d treat it as such. 

Leaping onto the ceiling, Gwen crawled above the living room and scrambled to the upper floor. The layout was identical to her dimension, allowing her to easily gauge whose room was whose. With two bedrooms and a bathroom, she suspected Peter would’ve moved into his aunt’s room after her passing. But, odd enough, the sounds were coming from Peter’s old room at the end of the hall.

She and her Peter shared a lot of moments in that room, intimate and embarrassing moments, and it felt unnatural to be so apprehensive about crawling toward it. But Gwen kept going, spurred on by the sounds of nearly muted screams. The door was open just a crack, and she peeked in from her spot on the ceiling.

The room was bare, stripped of even the carpet with the windows boarded over, but that didn’t stop the naked woman from lying on the floor. She was a little bigger than Gwen, with short, night-black hair and tan skin. Her breasts were paltry compared to Felicia’s and Mary Jane’s, but they were perky and firm. They didn’t even jiggle when Peter slapped her reddened ass. But her almond-shaped eyes bulged with every violent blow, brimming with tears as she screamed into her cloth gag. Her arms and legs were adhered to the floor with webbing, keeping her on all fours.

“You want another one?” Peter asked, strutting around the prone woman. Dressed in casual attire, he reminded Gwen of the other students at her university. “Or are you going to stop trying to get away?”

The Asian woman fervently bobbed her head, drool seeping through her gag and onto the floor.

“You’ll stay in the closet?” he asked.

She mumbled something into the cloth, and Peter plucked the red gag from her mouth. The woman stretched her jaw, wiggling it back and forth, before she whimpered, “Please don’t make me go back, Peter.”

Gwen’s heart sank. It was Silk, Cindy Moon, but Gwen had never seen her tremble so fearfully before. They’d stared down literal monsters, but being in Peter’s presence had her shaking like mad.

“Oh, that’s right,” he chuckled, “You don’t like cramped spaces, do you?” He chucked her gag aside, Gwen recognizing it as Silk’s mask. “It must be hell, being crammed in days at a time. Too bad you didn’t listen, huh?”

“Y-you’re not well,” Silk whimpered, “We can get you help. Theirs still time.”

“That’s what everyone says,” Peter let out a dry chuckle, “But the more I indulge myself, the more I like this new me. I’m finally taking what I want, who I want, and it feels good. You want me to feel good, don’t you Cindy?”

“Y-yes, Peter,” she trembled, “I only want to make you happy.”

“And you know what’d make me happy?” Peter knelt in front of her. “If you stayed in the closet like a good little girl. Can you do that for me?” He reached out, petting the small of her back like she was an animal.

Cindy shuddered but raised her head in meek defiance. A look of determination in her weary eyes. “People will know we’re missing. You can’t keep us a secret forever.”

“Really?” Peter grinned, but it wasn’t the same grin Gwen had seen countless times. It was all teeth, shiny white teeth. “How about we ask Anya’s opinion.” He turned toward the door and Gwen ducked out of the way. “Anya!”

The bathroom door burst open, and a girl her age scrambled out holding a large mayonnaise jar beneath her arm. Her black and white suit and chestnut brown hair easily identified her as Anya Corazon. Sometimes Araña and sometimes Spider-Girl, but never what was written in white marker on her petite backside: Cumslut.

So eager to please, she didn’t even notice Gwen when she barged into the room. “I’m here! I’m here!”

“Anya?” Cindy shivered. “I thought—”

“Right, your heroic sacrifice,” Peter strode up to Anya, the little girl quivering with excitement. “You’d stay behind, she’d run for help, and then everyone would get a big ol’ happy ending. Anya, did you do everything I asked?”

“I told everyone I’d been sick and went back to my usual routine,” Anya chirped, “I also let Cindy’s therapist, boss, and friends know she’ll be out for a week.”

“And by then you’ll be exactly how I want you to be,” Peter addressed Cindy, “Just like our good little Anya.” Peter gently stroked the girl’s high ponytail. Anya purred, leaning into his touch, her leg popped up like she’d been kissed and not treated like a dog. “Tell me, how’d you fill the jar so fast?”

“I went around college,” Anya nuzzled his hand like a puppy, “I had to beg some of them, but they all helped me fill it.” She shyly added, “I had to spit it out when they came too quickly, so there’s some of my spit in there. That won’t be a problem, right?”

“It shouldn’t,” Peter smiled, “You ready for your treat?”

“Yes!” Anya hopped up and down excitedly, as Peter reached into his pocket. He plucked out a small plastic baggie. Gwen couldn’t make out the contents but whatever it was, Anya’s whole body followed it while Peter dangled it in front of her.

“You want it?” Peter asked. “Beg.”

Anya immediately dropped to her knees, placing the jar by her side so she could hold her arms up like a begging puppy. She stuck her tongue out, panting, her body trembling with excitement. The whole time Silk stared aghast, silenced by how the girl was debasing herself.

“Arf! Arf! Arf!” Anya wiggled her little ass, her breasts so small they didn’t even bounce.

“Good girl,” Peter opened the packet and held it over Anya’s face. The girl tilted her head back, allowing a thin strand of slime to drip into her mouth. It pooled on her pink tongue and slipped down her throat, but it wasn’t until the baggie was empty that Anya snapped her mouth closed. Her throat bulged as she swallowed it down. 

It took only a few seconds before the girl collapsed on her side, convulsing uncontrollably.

“What did you do?!” Cindy cried, pulling at the webbing gluing her to the floor.

“She’ll be fine,” Peter chuckled, kicking Anya over and rolling her toward the wall. “It’s just something I whipped up. I gave her a dose before she ‘escaped’ and she came crawling back to me the next morning. Look…” He grabbed one of Anya’s legs and spread her open, slapping her covered pussy with his other hand. It was loud and wet, and he didn’t stop there.

“Oooooooh!” Anya moaned, her muscles twitched, and her legs kicked while Peter slapped her sex. Her little face screwed up and suddenly she was gushing all over the floor. It sprayed Cindy’s face and dripped down her neck.

“See, she’s fine,” Peter wiped his hand off on Anya’s breasts before leaving her to twitch on the floor. “It’s highly addictive, but without the harmful side effects. It’s also keto-friendly. Want some?”

“No!” Cindy screamed, tugging at her bonds. “Get away from me! Get it away!”

“Oh, come on…” Peter grinned, “I’m sure you’re curious.”

“Peter please!” Cindy pulled her head away, yanking at her binds, “You know this is wrong!”

“Yeah,” Peter pulled out another packet from his jeans, “but with everything I’ve done in my life, I think my karma is still good.” He dabbed his finger in the baggie, the tip slick with the contents, and tapped the tip of her nose.

“No!” Cindy shook her head back and forth, viciously trying to get it off her skin.

From her perch, Gwen watched as Cindy’s movements slowed and her breathing deepened. Her eyelids drooped and her mouth hung open. Even from here, the girl could tell the woman’s little brown nipples had hardened.

“Feeling different?” Peter asked.

“No,” Cindy panted.

“Shame, otherwise, this would’ve been easier,” Peter shed his jeans with a smirk. He slipped out of his boxers, dropping them on Anya’s still-twitching face. The girl suddenly began snuffling, and she let out a little mewl of pleasure, but Gwen’s eyes were drawn elsewhere.

He was massive. Even semihard, he was easily the largest Gwen had seen in her life. Would her Peter have grown up to look like that? Unconsciously, the girl rubbed her thighs together, watching as the man positioned himself behind Cindy. The woman’s ass was pushed up in the air by her awkward position.

“Please…” Cindy shuddered.

“What are you begging for now?” Peter asked. “Freedom? Your treat? Or maybe this…?” He thrust forward, rubbing the head of his cock along her slit. Cindy groaned; her small eyes widened as she gasped. “Is this what you’re begging for?”

“I’m not—" Cindy started, but yelped the moment Peter slapped her with his cock. “Don’t...” Her muscles tensed and her back arched, “Don’t do that.”

“Why?” Peter asked innocently, “You already close?”

Cindy bit her bottom lip, violently shaking her head. But even as she did, a rosy hue filled her cheeks, and sweat touched her brow. Gwen was all too familiar with that look; Cindy was more than just close. She was fighting it off with everything she had.

“You really gotta be more honest,” Peter sighed, taking the same finger he wiped beneath her nose and gingerly poking her clit.

Cindy shrieked, loud and long, her small body writhing as her orgasm tore through her like lightning through water. Gwen clapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet, horrified as Cindy screamed at the top of her lungs. Peter laughed when juices sprayed from Cindy’s cunt, bathing his cock. He gently stroked her back like she was a horse, shushing her as the woman began sobbing uncontrollably.

“You’ll be okay,” Peter whispered to her, Cindy’s chest heaving as she wept. “You never had one that good before, have you?”

Cindy shook her head, hair falling over her face.

“Do you want another?”

Cindy shook her head again.

“That’s too bad,” Peter said, baggie still in hand. He tipped it over, pouring the sticky contents on his cock. It dripped off the sides, but enough of it was on him that his member was slick and glinted in the stale bedroom light. “You’ll hate this, then.”

He thrust, burying himself inside Cindy’s pussy. The Korean woman squealed; her body trapped as Peter quickly picked up a rhythm. He gripped her hips, rocking in and out of her, Cindy crying and screeching as her cunt was assaulted by waves and waves of pleasure. Cindy babbled, her mouth making incoherent noises without rhyme or reason. Drool spilled from her mouth and tears gushed down her cheeks as her mind was bathed in ecstasy.

At least, that’s what Gwen interpreted as she started touching herself. Imagining it was her own fertile hole being used.

The girl’s fingers snuck beneath the waistband of her suit, playing with her cunt as the two heroes fucked on the ground. She was knuckles deep, stretching her twat to satisfy her depraved needs. The sounds of their grunts and moans, the smell of musky sex in the air, it was all clouding her head. Gwen fucked her hand, bucking against it while biting the inside of her mask to silence her groans.

Cindy was reaching another peak; Gwen could tell by the way the woman was squealing. Peter was taking his time, enjoying her. The way his eyes raped her body, the way he jackhammered her cunt, he didn’t give a damn about her pleasure. He only cared about getting what he wanted.

Gwen’s throat went dry, it was clear he’d been holding back before by the way he used her now. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, dragging her back down his throbbing length. Her once moist entrance was now gushing, spraying his waist in sticky juices.

Her olive body, the epitome of a jade empress, clapped lewdly with wanton abandon. Her inky mane clung to her skin, and beads of sweat drizzled down her back. His length plundered her tight channel while her eyelids drooped, and her mouth hung open. Her body was molding to his needs, probably struggling to hold his rod inside her.

Gwen watched as the two rocked against one another in rapture, her fingers curling inside her young cunt. Cindy was lost, there was no going back after seeing the woman suffer peak after peak. Her elbows were shaking and her superhuman body swayed. Peter had literally fucked the resistance out of her. Their loud, indecipherable cries were like two animals mating in the wild. Suddenly, it dawned on the girl. This wasn’t sex. This was breeding.

His pace quickened and he gritted his teeth. Cindy prepared herself, thrusting her ass out further. She must know she was about to be filled. Didn’t she care about getting pregnant? Could she care about anything in that state? No, Gwen understood all too well. Cindy was cum drunk and there was no going back.

Peter embraced her, folding his arms around her small bust. Cindy gasped, groaned, then whimpered. He was cumming in her, and she was feeling his heat bathing her channel. Gwen’s fingers quickened, not even caring about the slick squishing noises. She was watching her friend get filled with hot seed, and it was too good not to cum.

Peter leaned in close and whispered something in her ear, and Cindy nodded. With a tentative and shaky voice, she said, “Thank you.”

Gwen squirted inside her tights.

Thank you. She said “thank you” to being cum in like a jizz bucket. It was too fucking hot. Gwen rocked against her fingers, letting the orgasm bathe her core as her nimble fingers toyed with her slit. It wasn’t the best she’d had, but it was up there. Really high up there.

Her chest heaving, Gwen panted while she recovered. But she never stopped watching as Peter pulled himself from her. He was still hard, his cock bobbing as he walked, and Gwen almost started again at just the sight of it. Maybe she could get another quick one in if—

What the hell was she doing?

Gwen's stomach turned and she nearly bolted out of the house. She gawked at her glazed fingers; she could smell herself through the mask. She just masturbated to her friend’s rape. Doing things to door handles was one thing, but…this was another level of horrible.

It was this house. This house and the people in it. She had to escape before it affected her like it’d done the others.

THUD

Gwen nearly let go of the ceiling. It came from the bathroom. Someone else?

Crawling toward the bathroom, she peered inside before letting out a gasp. It was a woman. Her body was mostly encased in webbing, glued upside down against the wall. Her face and hair were just barely visible. Strands of strawberry blonde, blank unseeing eyes, and a thick black dildo sticking out of her mouth. The woman knocked the back of her head against the wall.

THUD

“Julia…” Gwen hopped down, landing quietly before the second Madame Web. A blind psychic, Julia Carpenter must’ve sensed Gwen the moment she entered this dimension. With her powers, it would be easy to free Silk and the others. Creeping up to the woman, Gwen grimaced seeing she was being held upside down with her face at crotch height.

Gripping the end of the dildo, Gwen began pulling. And pulling. And pulling.

“No, fucking way…” Gwen whispered as a foot of black rubber snaked out of Julia’s throat. When the head finally flopped free, the woman gasped but stifled her coughs. Goopy saliva pooled from her mouth and trickled into her unseeing eyes.

“Gwen…” Julia breathed, “…you have to stop him.”

“Let me get you down,” Gwen started.

“No,” Julia hissed, “The attic. You need to get to the attic.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Get to the attic and you’ll stop him,” Julia whispered, “Get to the attic and you’ll save everyone.”

As much as she’d like to argue, she could hear Cindy’s moans dying down. She needed to act quickly.

“I’ll come back for you,” Gwen promised.

“Wait…” Julia said, “…you have to put it back.”

“What?”

“The dildo. If he sees it missing…” Julia opened her mouth, waiting.

Gwen held the foot-long piece of rubber in her hand. “Are you sure?”

“Just do it,” Julia hissed. “Fast.”

Wincing, Gwen fed the dildo back into Julia’s mouth. The woman gulped loudly as inch after inch was pushed down her throat. It went in easy, and the girl wondered how long Julia had been doing this if her throat was so accustomed to downing the whole thing. Before long, only the end of the dildo was still visible, and Julia nodded in approval.

She hated leaving her behind, but she had to save them. She had to save them all. Just barely making it around the corner, Gwen heard Peter exit his old bedroom with a yawn.

“Julia,” he sang, and she heard his footsteps as he walked into the bathroom, “I have fresh cunt on me. I need it cleaned up.”

Gwen didn’t stick around to hear poor Julia choke again. Crawling across the ceiling, she found the hatch leading to the attic. The moment she opened it, everyone would know she was there. Which meant she had mere seconds to get whatever would free all the women and get the hell out.

With a quick tug on the string, Gwen popped open the ladder and crawled up and inside.

Peter cried out in surprise. Julia urged her to hurry. But the moment Gwen saw what was up there, it was already too late.

To be continued...

Chapter Text

One Week Ago

Silently touching down on the warehouse rooftop, Jessica Drew wrinkled her nose as she breathed in the sour scent of the wharf. Boats bobbed in the waves, reflected by the setting sun over New York Harbor. Seagulls drifted overhead as the clouds had finally parted after a solid week of rain. It would’ve been picturesque, if not for the real reason she was here.

Anya had gone missing.

Being a detective in her own right, Jessica searched Anya’s dorm room and quickly narrowed down her last location to a few possibilities. But it wasn’t until she checked the girl’s hard drive that she knew it with certainty. Half of her laptop was filled with streams done by the notorious annoyance known as Screwball. A live streamer who was infamous for toying with superheroes. From the looks of things, Anya had done a bit of her detective work and found Screwball’s last location.

Without even checking the live streams, Spider-Woman leaped out the window and took off for the wharf. Something must’ve gone wrong, and Screwball was probably holding her hostage until Spider-Man showed up to save her. She’d have to settle for Spider-Woman.

Creeping through the skylight and into the abandoned warehouse, Jessica crawled across the ceiling. It was odd, she’d expected a camera crew of Screwball’s usual cronies, but the building was mostly empty. Say what you want about the girl, but Screwball knew how to make a production. Instead, a lone tripod sat in front of a dirty mattress. And lying in the center was a naked Screwball. A thick steel chain connected her ankle to a metal beam.

Immediately, her maternal instincts kicked in and Jessica leapt down to the girl’s aid. The girl’s hair was unwashed, matted, and caked with sweat. Angry red welts were over her small breasts and thighs and crotch. A strange assortment of toys lay around the mattress, just within Screwball’s reach. Tasers, whips, dildoes, vibrators, and others she couldn’t even recognize littered the dirty ground.

“Screwball,” Jessica hissed, cradling the girl’s face. Her whole body was shivering in the cold empty building. “You need to get up.”

Suddenly, the girl bolted awake, a wide fake grin on her face and eyes teary. “What’s up superfans!” She screamed, staring at the camera, “It’s your favorite pain slut! Here to jam whatever you want in my stretched-out pussy! Today’s sponsor is my asshole! Always there when—” She froze, eyes catching the scarlet-and-yellow-clad Spider-Woman, and immediately she broke down into a mess of sobs. Her arms wrapped around the superhero's shoulders as she wept into her costume.

“It’s going to be okay,” Spider-Woman stroked the girl’s ratty hair, “I’ll get you out of this. You’re going to be okay.”

“You-you don’t understand!” Screwball blubbered, “This was exactly what he wanted.”

“Who?” Jessica started, only for Screwball to hug her tighter. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” the girl whispered, “but this is the only way he’ll let me go.”

Jessica didn’t even get a chance to scream before a Taser was jammed into her neck.

Now

The muggy air in the attic dripped with a sickly sweet odor. The second Gwen breathed it in, her eyelids drooped, and her body swayed on unsteady feet. Her hands instinctively cupped her breasts, kneading and massaging them through the front of her suit. Nipples stiff, she eagerly rolled them between her fingers. The lenses on her mask fogged over, and her breathing became ragged and heavy. Her mind shrieked at her to run, but she was already ensnared by the woman writhing before her.

The figure was bound in a leather straitjacket and covered with a hooded bondage mask. The only signifier that the captive was Spider-Woman was the two bright yellow boots strapped to the legs of the bedframe. Her bare cunt hung over the edge of the mattress, juices flowing freely into a five-gallon bucket beneath her. Her head would’ve been sealed off completely except for a large red ball gag lodged in her drooling maw. Tubes ran from beneath the front of her jacket, leading to twin cartons on either side of the bed. Both were brimming with creamy milk.

“J-Jessica…?” Gwen barely managed to stammer out, her fingers still torturing her own nipples.

Screaming into her gag, Jessica likely didn’t hear her. Her body wriggling, her night-black hair trapped beneath the latex mask. Gwen could still save her, tear the straps holding Spider-Woman to the bed and flee. But she was lost in how puffy and red the woman’s engorged cunt lips were. They glistened in the light, drooling juice into the bucket like a leaky faucet. The hood of her clit was pierced, and a little vibrating bead hummed away over the sensitive nub.

Gwen stumbled forward, pulling her mask up and over her nose so she could lap up the wonderous nectar.

“Easy,” a hand gripped her arm, holding her back. “You drink straight from the source and there won’t be anything left of you.” Her mask was tugged off the rest of the way, blonde hair spilling out. Peter strutted between Gwen and Spider-Woman. His pants were missing, and his cock jutted out from his body like a tree branch. “What’s the matter, Gwen? I thought you were going to get help?”

“I’m still…I can…” Gwen’s mouth began watering, and she struggled to make out words. Was his cock always so big? What would it feel like inside of her? What would it taste like?

“Shh,” Peter stroked her hair, “It’s so hard to think, isn’t it? But let’s see if you can keep up…” Peter gestured to the bound Spider-Woman, “Jessica exudes pheromones, but they typically only work on men. But the thing is, they’re essential to what I have planned.” Peter stuck a finger in Gwen’s mouth, the girl instinctively suckling on it. “I thought if I upped the potency, maybe they’d have a similar effect in women. But how would I do that?”

He popped his finger out of Gwen’s mouth, rubbing her spit across her cheek. He grinned, and Gwen’s heart swelled at the smiling man in front of her. Did he want to fuck? She needed to fuck. Her tights were soaked through, and she was drooling with arousal.

“I love how stupid you look,” Peter chuckled, booping her nose. “That’s the Gwen I remember.” He cleared his throat, “It took about three days, but I got what I wanted. She just needed the right stimulation. The best thing about her, her stamina is endless. It’s been a week and she’s still going strong.” He smirked, “Can you say, 'week'?”

“W-w-w—”

“Very good,” Peter stroked her hair, “Such a good girl. You want to say goodbye to The Cow before I leave her here for a few days?”

“B-b-b-b—”

“Words are so hard, aren’t they?” Peter sighed, easily plucking Gwen off the ground and draping her over his shoulder. “Let’s get you a cold shower, then you can have a real chat.” Before leaving, Peter prodded Jessica with his foot, the woman squealing in surprise. As they descended the steps and out of the attic, Gwen licked her lips at The Cow’s still oozing cunt.

Oblivious to how miserably Jessica wailed into her ball gag.

Gwen didn’t emerge from her daze, she was thrown from it.

Drenched in cold water, the girl shrieked as her costume was bathed by the shower. She clutched her frigid body, trembling as the heat inside her dissipated all at once. But the blush never left her cheeks and the warmth in her loins wasn’t quenched.

Peering out from behind her wet blonde hair, Gwen saw a cadre of women crowding the small bathroom. Anya sat on the sink while Mary Jane kneeled by the toilet. Julia was still stuck to the wall but snuffled the air like a bloodhound with the dildo crammed down her throat. 

“Did you get any?” Anya pleaded, looking Gwen over, “Did you bring any back to us?”

“We’re not allowed in the attic,” Mary Jane whined, resting her head on the toilet seat. “I bet her milk is even stronger now.”

Teeth chattering, Gwen fumbled to shut off the cold water. The attic felt like a horrible nightmare, and her stomach churned at the mere thought. What Peter was doing was wrong, so fucking wrong, he was turning his friends and lovers into objects. Warping their minds and devolving them into his sex slaves. Horrible didn’t even begin to cover his atrocities.

And yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about his cock. The way it’d brushed her leg when he picked her up. The way it’d split Cindy open and broken her like a toy. How much she wanted to touch it, kiss it, worship it.

No, it was all Jessica’s pheromones. It was messing with her head. There was still time. She could save them all.

“Oh, I know that look,” Anya giggled, “She’s about to play hero.”

“Should I get Peter?” Mary Jane asked, eyes filled with worry.

“Don’t bother,” Anya said, “It fades. After you get your first taste, everything fades.”

“Y-you know?” Gwen stammered, “Y-y-you let th-this happen?”

“It’ll all make sense in a moment,” Anya said, “And don’t blame Julia for tricking you into going up there, she hasn’t had her treat for a few days.”

Julia whined around the dildo crammed in her mouth.

“W-we need to st-stop him,” Gwen rubbed her arms frantically, trying to get her temperature up.

“He treats you nice once you give in,” Anya unashamedly rubbed her pussy over the outside of her suit. “Just do what he says, and nothing really changes. Except for getting the fucking of your life if you beg him enough.”

“What about you?” Gwen asked Mary Jane.

“I’m just happy when Peter’s happy,” Mary Jane smiled. “And if that means I’m a pet, then I’m a pet. And maybe, if he’s really happy, he’ll finally love me again…” Tears seeped out of the corners of her eyes, even as she grinned, “Wouldn’t that be hilarious, girls? If Peter loved me again? Wouldn’t that be so fucking funny?!” He broke into frantic laughter.

“Ignore her,” Anya held out her hand for Gwen, “She’s worse than Felicia at this point.” Gwen took it, letting Anya lead her from the tub. “Peter found a better way for us. No breaking, no piss slavery, we’re exactly who we were. We just…don’t say no to him. Ever.” She smiled sweetly, “Isn’t that great?”

It sounded awful.

“Where’s Cindy?” Gwen asked.

“Why don’t you go look for yourself?” Anya pushed open the bathroom door.

All these women were already lost, but maybe she could save Cindy and Jessica. Maybe there was still hope.

Gwen stumbled out of the bathroom, her suit still soaking wet, and started toward the bedroom. The others didn’t try stopping her, only watching as she went down the hall. Gwen breathed deeply, psyching herself up for the coming battle. She’d fought Peter before. He was stronger than her, but she was faster. She just needed to keep one step ahead of him and maybe Cindy and she could make it out of here without becoming the horny mindless freaks like the others.

Pushing the door open, Gwen was overcome by the musky smell of sex.

Cindy, freed from her web restraints, humped Peter’s leg like a frenzied wild animal. Her tongue was out, licking his skin as her eyes were locked on his thick girthy cock. Peter held his limb out, indifferent while Cindy ground her twat against his shin. She moaned, wrapping her arms around his calf as she rode him with quick clumsy jerks.

“Gwen,” Peter smiled, seeing her standing in the doorway. “I’m glad the water snapped you out of it.”

“L-let her go,” Gwen lifted her fists, trying to ignore the slick slapping of Cindy’s cunt against Peter’s leg.

“She’s free to go anytime now, but she wants to stay here. Isn’t that right, Cindy?” Peter scratched behind the woman’s ear like she was a pet.

“I love it,” Cindy moaned, refusing to stop her manic humping. “I love you, Peter. I love you!”

“Why are you doing this?” Gwen trembled, seeing the once strong heroine debase herself. “We’re your friends. Mary Jane’s your wife.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Peter said, “And even if you did, you’d try and talk me out of it.” He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. “Alright, so what happens now? You’ve seen The Cow in the attic; you can probably guess what I have planned for everyone else. What’s the move, Gwen?” 

“Stop you,” she breathed, though her eyes hadn’t left Cindy. The woman was mewling now, her bucking more frantic.

“Take your shot,” Peter opened his arms.

Everything told her to charge him, tackle him through the wall, and take the fight out into the yard. Send out a call to Miles or Flash, maybe even further up the chain to Reed or Tony. Anyone who could fix whatever was wrong with Peter. There was still time to stop this before it spread any further.

And she was close to doing it. She really was. But then she caught a sickly-sweet scent emanating from Peter’s cock. The head was slick, still wet with Jessica’s pheromones from earlier. Blood pumped in Gwen’s ears as the worries of the world faded away.

She dropped to her knees and stared dreamily at the thick rod in front of her.

“I need it.” She hated herself, hated every fiber of her being for being so weak. But she couldn’t fight the aching in her loins any longer. The shower water had cooled her down on the outside, but her insides were burning with desire. There was no mistaking it. She was in heat, she needed to be filled, and he had the perfect cock to sate her lust.

“Nooo…” Cindy moaned, quickening her ride, “Me first! Me first!”

“She makes a good point,” Peter said, “Prove to me why you’re better than Cindy.”

“My-my tits are bigger,” Gwen said, pushing them together to accentuate her bust.

“My ass is thicker,” Cindy slapped her cheek.

“My cunt is tighter!” Gwen shouted.

“My throat is better!” Cindy promised. “Do you really think her pussy is tighter than my Korean cunt? You know how it felt, Peter. You practically broke me in.”

Panic seized the girl, Cindy was right. Everything about her was better than Gwen. She had to be creative. Try something drastic. Grabbing her suit, Gwen ripped it off her body. It tore beneath her strength, letting her breasts spill free. She kept tearing, ripping off more and more until she was naked in front of them.

“I-I have to swing home like this…” Gwen whimpered, parting her lower lips with her fingers. “…everyone will see everything. They’ll see the cum dripping out of me.”

Peter smiled.

“No!” Cindy fell on her ass when Peter kicked her off him. His leg glistened with her juices. “I can do that too! I’ll swing around in nothing from now on! I promise!”

“Go back to the closet,” Peter ordered.

Cindy whined but did as he asked. Crawling into the dark tiny closet, she closed it behind her. Even with it shut, Gwen could hear the bitter sobbing of the Korean woman trapped within her hell of darkness and confinement. But that wasn’t any of her concern anymore.

Earnestly, Gwen asked, “How do you want me?”

“Like a bitch,” Peter said.

Gwen moved accordingly, turning around, and presenting her folds to him. The floor bit into her soft knees but she lacked the self-respect to care. The orgasm from earlier was nothing more than an appetizer, and Peter’s cock was the main course. Distantly, she thought about her time with her own Peter. About how gentle and kind and awkward they’d both been their first time together. She couldn’t care less about those memories anymore; this new Peter was her Peter now. This Peter was her master.

He didn’t waste any time. Descending on her young and supple body. There was no teasing. No warm-up. No love. She wasn’t on the same level as a partner or equal. She was a hole. His hole. And the only thing expected of her was to hold still and surrender to the cock invading her tight twat.

So that’s what she did.

Shuddering, Gwen released an animalistic groan, his member easily rubbed against her G-spot and delved far deeper than any man had gone. Her elbows went weak, quivering as he began rocking into her slutty body. Her breasts swung beneath her, sweat dripping from her nipples, and she smiled lewdly as he rammed into her repeatedly.

She couldn’t care less how he treated her; he was meeting her basic needs. That was enough. That’s all she could ever ask for. Was it good for him too? She squeezed around his cock, tightening herself in hopes it’d make it more pleasurable for him. She grinned, hearing him moan, she was a good slut. 

“By the time I fucked my Gwen, she was a stretched-out whore,” Peter grunted, ramming his cock into her gushing lips, “But you’re fresh, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” Gwen squealed ecstatically. “I’m glad you like it, Peter! Please, more! I just want to be yours! Only yours!”

“Only mine?” Peter scoffed, fucking her with even more ferocity. Her little body jostled beneath his violent thrusts, her hair swinging back and forth around her ears and her breasts jiggling like mad. “You think I want to keep you as my own? No. I’m gonna whore you out.”

“Wh-what?” She was shaken from her pleasure, the hair on the back of her neck prickling.

“I don’t need this many cunts lying around my house,” Peter’s hips clapped against her ass, the wet slapping of their sex echoing around his room. “And I don’t need people like you snooping around either. You know what I’m getting at?”

“No!” Gwen shrieked as Peter gripped her hair and yanked her head back. Her flexibility was the only thing keeping her from snapping in two. Her eyes rolled back in her head from the agony and the euphoria as he hilted himself inside her.

“Of course you don’t, you’re stupid. Say it.”

“I’m stupid!” Gwen groaned, her hair threatening to rip.

“Again.”

“I’m stupid!” Gwen squealed.

“Good girl,” Peter slammed Gwen’s face into the floor. Her tits were crushed into the ground as he held her head down, her cheek mashed against the wood. Still, her knees kept her ass in the air and allowed Peter to keep feeding her that divine pleasure. “Anyone asks you about me, anyone even mentions that I’m acting strange, you throw yourself at them. Understand?”

“Yes!” Gwen moaned, her hole gushing around his pistoning member.

“I don’t care who they are, you keep them away from me by flashing this at them,” he slapped her ass hard enough her juicy flesh rippled, and Gwen screamed. “You fuck them however they want, understand?”

“Yes!” Gwen cried, the pleasure was building faster now, her heart racing and her pussy dousing her inner thighs with her juices. “Whatever they want!”

“But never forget, this is mine,” he bashed his cock against her cervix. “You fuck them for me. You worship them for me.”

“Yes!” she squealed, her fingers digging into the floor, “I’m yours! You own me!”

His pace quickened, and Gwen could hear the ringing growing in her ears. It was going to be a big one. Possibly the biggest she’d ever had. It was building in her loins, threatening to destroy her mind beneath the sheer magnitude of the orgasm barreling down on her. Her eyes watering, her heart pounding, Gwen let fear overtake her as something great and terrible thundered through her cunt.

“Yesssss!” She shrieked, her body tensing as all the pleasure rocketed through her channel and out her twat. She glazed his waist in her arousal, painting him with her juices. Her nipples chafed against the floor, her knees scraped against the grit, but all that paled considering the cock still plundering her tight hole.

Riding this orgasm into another and another, Gwen’s mind was eaten away bit by bit by the sensations of Peter’s overpowering rod. Froth bubbled at her lips, and her arms awkwardly convulsed at her sides.

She would do it. She would fuck anyone to protect Peter. Protect this wonderful man who’d shown her this wonderful world.

Gwen didn’t even realize he’d cum inside her until he pulled out, tossing her to the side like she was a bag of rubbish. The girl shivered on the floor, helpless as Peter wiped his cock off on her hair and flicked the last dregs of cum at her gaping mouth. Gwen licked her lips, tasting him, and shivered in delight.

Reaching between her sore legs, she found his essence oozing out of her well fucked hole. Lifting her fingers into the light, she saw the strings of cum draped between them. Eagerly, she slurped them clean. Gorging herself on his seed as though it was her last meal. It didn’t even cross her mind she could be pregnant. His cream was too good to worry about such paltry matters.

Noticing her master had turned away, Gwen perked up and said, “I love you.”

Peter smiled down at her, and said, “That’s nice.”

And then she was left alone with her feast.

The toy finally shut off; Spider-Woman collapsed against the mattress. Her tortured body was finally at rest.

Peter unclasped the back of Jessica’s mask, though he left the reinforced straitjacket tight around her body. The ebony-haired Spider-Woman’s eyes squinted in the harsh light from the bulb in the attic. They immediately filled with dread, seeing him looming over her. Peter popped the ball gag from her mouth, the superheroine wiggling her jaw, testing it, before she weakly rasped, “Help…”

“Nobody can hear you,” Peter said, stroking a strand of hair from her eyes. “Even if you had the strength to scream, nobody would hear you.”

“Why are you doing this?” Jessica managed out.

“We need to.” Peter smiled sinisterly.

“We?”

“I meant, ‘I’ need to,” Peter cleared his throat, the symbiote rippling beneath his skin. The alien was the only reason he wasn’t drooling from Jessica’s pheromones, but it had also started acting up a bit. It seemed to be thriving on so many women being under one roof.

“They’ll stop you,” Jessica hissed, “The others. They’ll be looking for me. I’m not like Felicia or Cindy. I’m an Avenger.”

“What a coincidence, so am I,” Peter smirked, “But you’re right. They’ll know you’re missing. Thankfully…” he gripped her tit, squeezing more milk from her teat, “…you’re currently making me the perfect distraction.”

“That’s your plan?” Jessica chuckled dryly, “Make them fuck each other so they’re too tired to hunt you down?”

“It’s a little more intricate than that,” Peter said, “But you know heroes, they’re distracted easily by the next big thing to fight. Guess I just need to find someone to tide them over.”

“Who?” Jessica’s eyes widened, “What are you going to—”

“We can keep talking or you can eat,” Peter frowned, “Which is it?”

“…eat.”

Despite all her bravado, time in the attic was wearing Jessica down. Her energy faded, her strength sapped with every passing day, it was only a matter of time before the woman would be as brain-dead as a real cow. But until then, it was refreshing talking to someone who wasn’t fawning over him. He’d miss these talks when she was gone.

Maybe he’d miss her too.  

Chapter Text

Fires still raged from the burning wreckage of cars and buses below. While night had fallen over New York City, the streets were teeming with rescue workers and Damage Control. The battle with The Hand had stormed for what felt like days but had only been thirty minutes. The strike was fast, targeting heroes with public identities, before dragging the brawl out into the streets. In the end, only the late appearance of Iron Man quelled the fray.

Spider-Man crouched on a rooftop, watching Luke Cage emerge from the fiery offices of Heroes for Hire. Danny Rand was still missing, as were Colleen and Misty Knight. A lot of heroes disappeared during the battle.

“Peter.”

His spider-sense hadn’t even gone off. But he knew by the cold and raspy voice who it was.

“Matt.”

The two friends faced each other. Daredevil gripped his billy clubs in his fists, his jaw set. His red suit was torn across the chest, scarring his emblem. Spider-Man’s was in much the same shape, a lens missing from his mask.

“So…” Peter started, “Are those billy clubs or are you just happy to see me?”

“Your scent…” Daredevil sniffed the air.

“Hey, you don’t smell great either.”

“When was the last time you saw Jessica Drew?” Daredevil asked.

“I dunno, when was the last time you started with a hello?”

“Your heartbeat…” Daredevil began stalking around him, “it’s normal.”

“Yeah,” Peter said.

“It was normal during the fight, too.”

“I’ve been working out,” Peter watched the blind vigilante out of the corner of his eye.

“No, everything about you has been too normal,” Daredevil went on, “But you slipped up. I caught a whiff of Jessica when The Hand threw you through a window. The same moment I heard your heart race. What are you hiding, Peter.”

“I don’t—”

“I can help you,” Daredevil said, “Whatever’s going on. I’ll help you.”

Peter sighed, hanging his head, “If only you said that a year ago.” 

The symbiote lashed out, swiping at Daredevil with furious tendrils. The nimble acrobat leaped skyward, just out of reach, landing gracefully on the ledge. Inky blackness emerged from beneath Peter’s suit, sealing the tears in his red and blue uniform. Encompassed by black, Spider-Man stalked toward his friend.

“Take him,” Peter ordered.

“It’s a monster, Parker!” Daredevil shouted, “Don’t talk to it!”

“I wasn’t,” Peter said.

A blur of red slammed Daredevil against the rooftop. A heel bashing into the back of his head. Murdock struggled to get up, only for ebony webbing to glue him down. Muscles straining, teeth gritted, he uttered one word before Spider-Man sealed his mouth shut with a ball of web.

“Elektra.”

Anya swung the incapacitated Matt Murdock off the rooftop, leaving Peter and Elektra alone. Daredevil was always going to be an issue early on, so Peter made the first move. His friend had a blind spot for the assassin, making her the perfect acquisition of Peter’s growing collection. With the symbiote acting as a distraction, Murdock didn’t notice he was in his lover’s crosshairs until it was too late.

Peter’s earlier encounters with Elektra weren’t often, but they were memorable. The way her bright red one-shoulder leotard hugged her every curve drove men wild. But it was her natural killing instinct she was most known for, making her one of the world’s deadliest women. But you couldn’t tell that by the way she was swaying back and forth now.

Her breathing was labored, but not from the fight. Perspiration clung to her brow, staining her scantily clad outfit damp with sweat. Her flowing ebony hair was messy and tangled. Try as she might to maintain composure, the Greek woman was unnaturally twitchy.

“Was that sufficient?” Elektra asked, swallowing.

“You were adequate at best,” Peter said dispassionately, the symbiote receding into his body. “A second later and he would’ve sensed you.”

“The job is done,” she hissed through gritted teeth, “Now give me what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?” Peter chuckled, “You don’t own anything anymore. Remember? You swore fealty to me. Or did you forget?”

“It was all talk,” Elektra puffed her chest out.

“Alright then, I guess you won’t be needing the next dose after all.” Peter lifted his arm, ready to swing off.

“Wait!” Elektra squeaked, and for the first time tonight, she dropped the facade of a woman in control. Peter smiled, turning around to see the assassin fidgeting, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“What was that?” Peter asked.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Elektra mumbled.

“Not good enough, on your knees,” Peter ordered.

Elektra lowered herself onto the rooftop, her hair pooling before her face as she bowed her head, “I’m sorry, sir. You’re right. I don’t own anything. Please forgive me.”

“You’re so pathetic,” Peter strode over, knocking her onto her back with one foot.

She lay there, like a submissive dog waiting for her belly to be rubbed. Instead, Peter drove his heel into one of her bountiful tits, smashing it. Elektra squeaked but held still. Peter grinned as he slammed his foot on her stomach, bashing the wind from her with one raspy puff. But still, she didn’t move.

“Are you wearing them?” Peter asked.

“Yes, sir,” she wheezed.

“Show me,” he removed his heel from her stomach. Elektra guzzled in a great gasp of air while climbing to her feet. Quickly she shed her leotard, revealing her undergarments beneath. Squeezed into a girly pink training bra, her tits were pooling out the top and bottom. Little butterfly panties dug into her mound, wiry black hair piercing the material and sticking out the sides. Both items strained to contain the grown woman, cutting into her bountiful flesh.

“Is this to your satisfaction, sir?” Elektra winced; it was obvious every move made the cheap cotton bite deeper into her. “May I take them off?”

“I don’t know, little girl,” Peter cooed, gripping her bandana, and ripping it off her head. Hidden beneath were two rainbow hair barrettes on opposing sides. “Why don’t you ask like you know you should?”

Elektra grimaced, her eyes darting away, but he knew her need would surpass her diminishing will. When she looked back, her eyes were wide, and her lower lip jut out like a child’s. “Please, Mister.” She clasped her hands together, begging like an urchin. “Will you give little Elektra the drug?”

He couldn’t help it; he laughed in her face. The woman’s cheeks burned deep crimson with embarrassment, but he didn’t give a damn. “Do it again!” Peter held his sides, “With more feeling this time.”

She clenched her fists, “No.”

Peter’s laughter died in a flash. “What was that?”

“No,” Elektra growled, “You will give me what I want.”

“Or what?” Peter scoffed, “You’ll kill me? You couldn’t even if you tried. Or haven’t you noticed how much harder it is for you to say no?” He leaned in, breathing in her ear, “Guess you’ll go without for another week.”

Her persona shattered, and she dropped to her knees again. “No! You don’t know what it’s like! Please!”

“Then beg properly,” Peter spat.

The lauded and infamous assassin’s lower lip trembled. She swallowed pitifully before she whimpered out, “Pweese, Mister, will you give little Elektra the drug? She really needs it. Her naughty place is always drip-dripping. Her little nippies are hard as pebbles. Pweese, Mister! Little Elektra is so horny!”

“Oh,” Peter smiled beneath his mask, “Poor Elektra. You must really want some of this, don’t you?” He pulled a web cartridge from a hidden belt; it was filled with Jessica Drew’s juices. “Stick out your tongue.”

Her blue eyes lit up, and she stuck out her pink tongue with eager devotion.

Peter popped open the cartridge and said, “Say ah.”

“Ahh,” Elektra happily hummed, sight locked on the little bit of dew being poured from the container. In one long sticky strand, it drooped down like honey. Her breathing quickened, she leaned closer, and her mouth watered.

Only for Peter to catch the droplet in his palm.

“Turn around,” Peter ordered.

“Pweese, Mister—”

“Not this time,” Peter grinned, “Turn around and pull those little panties down.”

“Um…” Elektra’s eyes darted away.

“Something wrong?”

“It’s not… what I mean to say is… it’s not a safe day. For me.” Elektra shivered.

“You think I care?”

“No, sir,” she shook her head, “I just wanted to let you know in case you—”

“I’m sure you’ll take good care of it,” Peter said coldly. “Now turn around.”

She struggled to her feet, fighting against the tiny panties, before turning around and showing off how her thick ass was nearly bursting out the sides of the underwear. Her juices had leaked through the cotton, staining them. She gripped the waistband, grunting as she struggled to pull them down. Her fleshy backside refused to let the material budge, and the woman whined in misery.

“Can I tear them, sir?” she begged.

“No,” Peter said, enjoying the sight of her abundant ass cheeks jiggling. “You got into them. You can get back out.”

With humiliating grunts, Elektra squeezed her fat ass out of the panties. The waistband threatened to snap the whole time, even letting out a loud popping noise once. Like releasing twin balloons, her cheeks flopped out of the undergarments and wobbled free. Red marks ran around her waist where it’d pressed too deep, making even her pale skin as red as her outfit. The panties fell around her ankles, and Elektra let out a groan of relief.

“Was that so hard?” Peter asked.

“No, sir,” Elektra panted.

“And you did such a good job,” Peter stroked her large backside, causing a tremor to run up the woman’s back. “I think I might just give you a reward.” His finger slipped between her legs, teasing up her hairy folds.

“I’m ready for you, sir,” Elektra moaned.

“Is that what you really want to call me?” Peter asked, stroking her honeypot.

“No,” she shook her head, “I’m ready for you… Daddy.”

Peter let out a dry chuckle. Despite her status, despite her kill count, Elektra was still just another girl with daddy issues. No different from some floozy on the street.

“Alright, baby,” Peter rubbed her slit, “You want Daddy to take care of you?”

“Yes Daddy,” Elektra moaned, craning her head back. “Please, spoil your little girl.”

“But you were so bad earlier,” Peter hissed, sliding his fingers from her cunt to her puckered hole. “I think this spot needs to be punished.”

“D-Daddy…” Elektra whimpered.

“Shh,” Peter pulled out his cock, slapping it against Elektra’s generous cheeks. “You’ll still get your treat.” He poured the cartridge over his dick, slathering it with Jessica’s cunt juice. He rubbed it up and down his shaft until it was good and slick. “But first, let’s get you closer to the edge.”

Elektra squeaked as she was roughly shoved toward the edge of the building. Her feet shuffled as she tried not to trip around her panties. Her arms swung wildly as Peter held her near the side, the streets dozens of floors below. Toes right at the edge, she had nowhere left to go. Elektra reached backward, trying to grasp hold of him, but Peter smacked her hands aside and gripped her wide hips.

“No moving,” Peter hissed in her ear, “You just be a good little girl and stay here and take it. Understand?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she whined. “But can we—"

Peter prodded her snug hole, and Elektra let out a squeal.

“Not there!” Elektra cried.

“You said today wasn’t a safe day. I’m being kind. You want me to be kind, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy. Fuck my asshole, please.” She whimpered.

The slick head popped in, easing up into her hot warm entrance. She was so tight, her massive cheeks squeezed around his cock. Elektra held still, covering her mouth with both hands. Peter sank in, filling her up with inch after inch of his dick. He could feel her insides mold around him, surrendering to his dominance.

“Daddy…” Elektra whispered, “It’s hot. It feels hot!”

Jessica’s pheromones could have that effect. Every anal experiment he’d done with Anya resulted in the same. A warm tingling sensation around her rim before the juices would ingrain themselves into her insides and leave her a screaming and sweat-drenched mess.

“Oh god…” Elektra moaned as Peter hilted himself inside her. 

Despite dressing like a whore, Elektra was still tight. Her warmth wrapped around his cock, her channel smooth as silk. He could’ve stayed deep inside her, just enjoying the feeling of her muscles clenching around his dick. But she had done a good job, and she should be rewarded for her efforts. He pulled out, slowly, eliciting a little whimper from her.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, “I’ll fill you right back up again.” She yipped when he slammed back in, her cheeks rippling beneath the hefty thrust. Her feet nearly left the edge, and she tried to reach back and hold him. “What’s the matter? Scared of a little height?”

“Please, I don’t want to fall,” Elektra whispered.

“Trust me,” Peter grunted, pulling out some before surging back into her. Her feet left the ground. “You do trust me, don’t you?”

Elektra said nothing, only clapping both hands over her mouth. Her toes had left the rooftop, and she was practically dangling over the edge. Her little panties slipped from her ankle and plummeted to the ground. But Peter didn’t stop. Her hole was too good, and he didn’t give a damn whether she was afraid or not. If anything, she tightened up the more he pushed her over the side.

“Play with yourself,” Peter whispered.

Elektra reached down, finding her dripping cunt, and Peter heard the wet squishing as her fingers played with her pussy. She shuddered, and another hand reached up to rub her breast through the training bra. With her finally sated, Peter began fucking her anew. His hips clapped against her ass, those ripe cheeks jiggling.

Plap-plap-plap-plap!

“Ohh, Daddy…” Elektra whined, “It’s hot. It’s getting hotter!”

Peter’s pace quickened, his thrusts stronger. Looking down, he saw her asshole stretching around his cock like lips, struggling to suck him back in.

“Wave to the people below,” Peter ordered.

“No…” Elektra shook her head, “I can’t.”

“How does a month without it sound?”

Elektra’s breath hitched and she pulled her hand from her breast to wave nervously down at the rescue workers below them. Her humiliation made her clamp down on his dick even harder, and Peter groaned in satisfaction.

“Oh god…” Elektra whispered, “Someone’s looking at me. They’re looking at me…”

“What do you think they’re thinking?” Peter grunted.

“That I’m… fuck… that I’m a cheap whore…” she panted, “Please… pull me back…”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to cum,” Elektra moaned. “I don’t want them to see me cum.”

“Too bad,” Peter ground his cock against her ass, delving as deep as he could. “Keep playing with yourself.”

“Th-they’re pulling out their phone…” Elektra whined, “Please don’t make me!”

“Two months?”

Elektra hung her head, defeated, and began whimpering. He could feel her fingers moving through her internal wall. She was fucking herself faster, rubbing her special place. Fully off the ground, her toned legs kicked beneath her as her orgasm grew.

“Ohh… ohh fuck…” Elektra cried, “Daddy, I’m cumming!”

Her ass clenched the tightest it’d ever been as Elektra squealed, squirting wildly. Her nectar sprayed towards the ground, spattering the street with her juices. Her legs flailed and her arms hugged her torso tightly.

“Cum with me, Daddy! Cum with me!”

He could’ve gone longer, but who was he to ignore a woman’s request?

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

Elektra screamed as her hole was brutalized. All her muscles tensed at once, the training bra finally snapping and allowing her mountainous tits to spring free. They flopped wildly, smacking each other.

Giving one final thrust, Peter flooded her hole with his hot sticky cum. Elektra wailed, her legs sticking out in front of her as another jet of arousal squirted down on the streets. Peter grunted, holding himself inside her, his cock pumping seed into her guts. The thought of her not being able to sit for a week filled him with perverted glee.

Suddenly, all the energy was sapped from Elektra in one second. Her arms fell by her sides and her legs went limp. She hung like a fuck puppet, crammed full of his cream.

“Fucking useless,” Peter muttered, ripping her off his cock and throwing her on the roof.

Elektra rolled several times, before coming to a stop. Ass pointed in his direction and spurting cum. She was out cold, literally cumming herself unconscious. Peter stalked up to her leotard, wiping his dirty cock off on it. With a sly smirk, he tossed it over the side of the building and let it flutter to the streets beneath them.

Tucking himself back within his suit, Peter made the mental note to send his AI to scrub the internet for images of Elektra. As enjoyable as it was, knowing the leader of The Hand could be on forums squirting on a rooftop, Peter wasn’t ready to reveal her true nature just yet. Especially if he appeared in that picture.

No, his plans always came first.

About three times a year, some superhero team stumbled across a secret base owned by a nefarious organization. Usually, SHIELD or Damage Control was responsible for making sure all the hazardous materials and items were safely squared away. But on some occasions, even big things slipped through the cracks. Such was the AIM facility hidden beneath New Jersey. It wasn’t very big, just beneath a single warehouse, but it was more than sufficient for Peter’s purposes.

“S-sir?” Cindy shambled toward him, hugging her nude body nervously. She didn’t like being in the bunker. The cold desolate walls and confined spaces made her a nervous wreck. Which was partially why he stationed her there. “Did everything go well?”

“Elektra knows her place,” Peter said, pulling off his mask and striding down the hallway. “How is everyone here?”

“Take a look for yourself,” Silk gestured to the nearest containment room. A large window revealed the inhabitants. Daredevil was laid across a table, the redheaded Julia Carpenter holding both sides of his head. “Daredevil is the last one. We already did the others.”

“All successful?” Peter asked, eyeing the long hallway with many windows.

“For the most part,” Cindy said, “A few took some prodding, but they’re where we need them to be for now.”

“Right,” Peter rolled his shoulders back, “The first Madame Web told me psychic surgery is trickier on non-spider-people. As long as they don’t remember anything is more than enough.”

“Gwen, Anya, and I can return them at any time,” Cindy said eagerly, no doubt wanting out of the bunker. “Just say the word.”

“Oh, Cindy,” Peter gave her a patronizing pat on the cheek. The woman flinched but held still. “Logically, that makes the most sense. We don’t want people looking for them too hard. But illogically…” He mentally ran through the list of women he currently had all under one roof. “… this is too good an opportunity to pass up.”  

Chapter Text

Her head hurt.

Which was good.

It meant she was still breathing.

“Look who finally decided to wake up.”

Kate Bishop’s bright blue eyes snapped open, immediately wincing as blinding stark light beat down on her. Adrenaline pumped through the seasoned archer and her heart thundered in her chest. Where was she? What was going on?

Acting on pure instinct, she reached for her bow. Only to grunt at the unexpected resistance wrapped around her wrists. An attempted quick kick confirmed her suspicions, she was strapped down to a hard metal table. Several bindings wound beneath her breasts, and she felt slight annoyance at how the polyester straps pushed them out more. It reminded her of those sluts in bondage films, not that she’d ever admit to watching them.

A few strands of ebony hair had wrenched free of her ponytail, and she blew them from her face with a strong puff. Wiggling her right foot, she felt the concealed blade still nestled securely in her boot. Which could mean other items in her lavender leotard were still safely hidden away. She rolled her eyes; criminals were so lazy.

She let out a gasp as the table whirred and began raising her at a slant. Her hair fell back in her eyes, and she grumbled in annoyance. Finally capable of fully taking in her surroundings, she gave the room a quick once-over with her skilled and discerning eyes.

Eggshell white metallic walls surrounded her with the floor being much the same shade. A large, opaque window splayed across one side, with a sealed sliding door locking her within. The air was heavy with must, and the hum of the lights above her betrayed their age. This cell was old, or older, and from the layout, it looked like it belonged to an old AIM facility.

What the hell would AIM want to do with her? She distinctly remembered one of their researchers calling her equipment and fighting style “embarrassingly archaic” and quickly moved on to study the other Young Avengers. Speaking of, she wished any of them had accompanied her during her battle with The Hand in the streets of Harlem. Was AIM taking advantage of the confusion to abduct her? Did they get any others?

Answers would come soon; she knew how much the villains liked to hear their own voices.

As if on cue, the heavy door whirred open, sliding along a track. Readying her snark, she was left speechless when a familiar red and blue hero strode into the room. His white lenses reflected the light and his boots were silent on the tile floor, but the spider symbol on his chest was as prominent as ever.

“Spider-Man?” Kate asked. She felt confusion, then relief. Turned out she didn’t need Cassie Lang to bash in the ceiling or Eli Bradley to burst down the door. One of the big names already found her in time for a Team-Up.

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Spider-Man said. “You’re making my job easy.”

She was about to thank him, to urge him to hurry, when he did something unexpected. He pulled off his mask. Kate didn’t know what to expect from an unmasked Spider-Man. The thought never occurred to her. But seeing his brown hair and blue eyes… he looked incredibly and unbelievably average.

“Spider-Man?”

“Call me Peter,” he said, tossing his mask aside. “I think it’s only fair since nobody calls you Hawkeye.”

It’s then she realized something was incredibly wrong.

“You took me,” she said.

“You catch on quick,” Peter winked. “And not just you, I’ve got about a dozen sardines stuffed inside this tuna can.” He paused, chuckled, and said, “Must be getting tired if I’m mixing metaphors like that. Anyway, let’s move on.”

“Why are you—”

“Questions after the lecture,” Peter held up his hand. “I’ve been working through a puzzle. I have this drug, and in high quantities, it’s extremely addictive to the point it makes the user essentially useless. They wander around begging for another fix instead of doing their damn jobs. In lower doses, I found the subjects susceptible, but not enough to obey. But since I have a bargain bin psychic working for me, I’m hoping I can get all the perks without a trail of junkies in my wake. So, here’s the question, Kate… how do you make someone work just as hard for less?”

“Tickle them,” Kate huffed.

“Close,” Peter chuckled, “But I thought of something a little more… dirty.” He plucked a cartridge from his belt. “This is an aphrodisiac. And in your head my psychic implanted a trigger word that’ll shut that sharp mind down. I just need to know how much to dim the lights.”

“This is a joke, right?” Kate asked, “This is some longwinded practical joke Clint put you up to. It’s cute he still treats me like I’m four, but I think I’d like to get out of the prison cube now.”

“Oh, I’ll let you go,” Peter said, “If you suck my cock.”

Kate felt like she’d been slapped. It came out of nowhere, striking her with all the delicacy of a freight train. She would’ve reeled back if she wasn’t strapped to a table. She hadn’t heard someone talk to her like that since high school. While Kate wasn’t prudish, she also didn’t expect that language to come from someone who had their own plushie.

“Excuse me?” Kate snapped.

“You’re still struggling with this, huh? Let me make it clearer for you.” As he approached, her vulnerability dawned on her. Strapped to the table, she had no means of slowing him down, much less stopping him. His gloved hand shot forward, sinking itself between her legs and cupping her clothed cunt. His fingers dug into her soft flesh as he groped her most intimate place. 

“What the hell?!” Kate shrieked, fighting against her binds. Writhing like an animal, panic overtook rational thought, as he forced a finger up against her protected hole.

“We’re both adults, Kate, it’s okay to cuss,” Peter grinned. Maybe that’s what chilled her blood, his grin, even as his thumb rubbed circles over her groin.

“Fuck you!” Kate shrieked, “Clint! Anyone! Help!”

“Oooh, you know shits turned south when the hero begins screaming for help,” Peter unceremoniously withdrew his hand from between her legs and wiped it on her thigh. “Still sweaty from earlier? Or did you like it more than you let on?”

“Let me go!” Kate seethed.

“Can’t, I need you,” Peter said, “Someone had to be first, and it might as well be you.” He playfully tossed the cartridge up in the air, snatching it before it hit the ground. With a sly smile, he lifted the little container to her face.

Kate twisted her head away and struggled against her binds. But all she could do was watch in horror as a viscous clear serum oozed from the opening and dripped onto her upper lip. She sealed her mouth shut, the pheromones drenching her pink lips and dripping down her chin. But it wasn’t enough, already her mind had gone fuzzy and her breathing slowed. The smell… it was sweet. Wonderfully aromatic, her nostrils flared as she breathed it in.

Against her wishes, her lips parted, and she licked the serum from her face. It tasted hot if that was possible. It warmed her insides as trickles slipped down her throat and filled her belly. Her nipples hardened and prodded the front of her suit. Tremors reverberated through her lower lips and even her asshole puckered in excitement. Her hatred waned as her tongue lapped up the sticky fluid, her tongue shooting out to catch the rest.

“Now…” Peter tossed the cartridge to the ground where it clattered on the tile. “Let’s see what happens when we turn that thinking part off.”

“No… don’t…” Kate pleaded, though her tongue continued searching for more.

“Klyntar,” Peter said, and suddenly her world went black.

Kate's hands were clutching something soft and pillowy. Little buds prodded her palms, and she roughly mashed them down. Her fingers, calloused after years of archery, dug into the material and a guttural hiss tore itself from her throat. What little fingernails she had sunk into the object, and she heard it squeal in pain. She reveled in it, squeezing it even tighter. Her vicelike grip squished them.

“Why are you doing this?”

She blinked.

Beneath her cowered a thin, angelic face. She had golden strands of hair and eyes as blue as the sky. The glowing crescent moon around her right eye stood out on her porcelain flesh. But what pierced through the veil of lust was the sheen of tears covering her face.

It was Tandy Bowen. Dagger. And Kate was crushing her breasts beneath her fingers.

“Oh my God…” Kate released her grasp on Tandy’s flesh, the girl letting out a struggled gasp. The blonde was strapped to a table identical to Kate’s. The front of her white leotard had been ripped open, her pale breasts dark pink from the archer’s mauling, and her eyes were puffy with tears.

“I said I didn’t want it…” Dagger wept, her lower lip quivering.

“I didn’t… I never…” Kate was kneeling over Tandy, knees on either side of the girl’s waist. She was still dressed in her uniform, though she’d nearly sweat through it. Beneath the Kevlar, her clit throbbed, and her nipples ached. Her heart pounded in her chest while her parched throat struggled to swallow. Staring down at her trembling hands, she looked past them to see Tandy’s face with fresh tears.

“Well, that was something.”

Kate’s head spun at the voice. On the other side of the cell’s window, Peter waved at her.

“Help me!” Tandy cried, turning her head to the side. “She’s crazy!”

“I didn’t do it!” Kate scrambled off the table, backing away with her hands held up as a sign of innocence. “I wouldn’t… it wasn’t me!” Kate swerved toward the glass, bashing her fist against it. The window only made a soft thump. “What did you do to me?!”

“As I said, in concentrated quantities, the aphrodisiac is addictive,” Peter busily tapped on a tablet in his hand. “The dose I gave you was a lot less, but by lowering your cognitive functions and inhibitions you became… well… this.”

Peter held the tablet up to the window as a video played.

Kate watched in abject horror as a beastly parody of herself leaped on Dagger’s prone body. Tearing at her uniform as the girl shrieked and begged for help. Spittle flew from Kate’s mouth as her face dove into Tandy’s chest and began pulling at her nipples with her teeth.

“Yeah, I was a little off,” Peter sighed, turning the tablet away, “You were horny as hell, but more cavewoman than anything else. Hopefully, the adjustments Julia made will iron out those kinks.” Peter chuckled, “Kinks. I crack myself up.”

“No, fuck you! We’re getting out of here!” Kate spun around; with Dagger’s help, they may be able to cut themselves from the cell. “Tandy, get ready for—”

“No!” Tandy screamed, her eyes wide and her mouth contorted in horror. “Don’t touch me!”

“Tandy…” Kate backed away, “You heard what he said… it wasn’t me…”

“Just get away from me!” Tandy’s eyes began to glow a bright white, though tears still leaked down her face.

“Tandy…” Kate’s eyes fell on the girl’s abused nipples, and she staggered back. Holding her head, the girl whispered, “It wasn’t me… it wasn’t me…”

“You can have your breakdown later,” he cleared his throat before he said, “Klyntar.”

Pulled taut around her fingers, Kate viciously yanked on golden strands wrapped around her fingers like a horse’s reins. She pulled back hard, threatening to rip them from their roots. Her bare kneecaps dug into either side of the table and she involuntarily bucked against something nice and prominent prodding her erect clit. She was grinding, seething, and cooing as she mashed her pussy against something lively and warm.

Someone was screaming into her cunt.

The world came flooding back to her, though pleasure still framed the edges. She gasped, realizing her bottoms were gone and her pussy was still riding someone’s face. Relinquishing her hold on the hair, Kate threw herself off the table and landed with a heavy thud. Immediately, the room was flooded with the loud and desperate sobs and gasps of a girl.

“H-help…” a pitiful voice whimpered.

Acting on pure instinct, Kate leaped to her feet and rushed to the girl’s side.

Dagger’s eyes went wide, and her mouth contorted in horror. Her face was smeared with juices, saliva, and tears. A strand of Kate’s wiry pubic hair stuck out of the corner of her mouth. She shrieked, writhing like a caged animal, and fought against her bindings. Her head shook back and forth, and her pleading grew louder and more desperate, but her body was locked in place.

“Get the hell away from me!” Tandy screamed, “Help! Help!”

“Tandy, you don’t under—”

“Help!”

“Tandy—”

“Help!”

“Shut up!” Kate struck Dagger with the back of her hand, smacking the girl’s head to the side. The archer panted, rage billowing up inside her like a storm cloud. The bitch needed to know her fucking place. If it took a dozen more slaps to silence her it would be—

Kate looked down at her hand, it still stung from slapping Dagger so hard.

“No…” Kate stumbled back. “No, I wouldn’t… I’d never…”

Her clit throbbed.

“No!” Kate screamed, spinning around toward the window. Peter’s attention was directed toward his tablet, not even bothering to watch Kate’s darkest hour. The archer threw herself at the window, bashing her fist against the glass, “What the hell did you do to me?!”

“No idea,” Peter muttered, “You’re not turning out how I expected. Maybe you have a sadistic streak I wasn’t aware of… it could explain why you’re getting more violent.”

“Don’t you dare—”

“You’re playing with yourself right now,” Peter sighed.

Kate’s fingers had parted her hairy lips, two had already slipped into her dripping hole. She bucked against her hand, the knowledge that it was Dagger’s tears lubing the way heightened her pleasure. Mentally, she ordered her body to stop toying with her cunt. But physically, she couldn’t pull her hand away even if she tried.

“Although…” Peter tapped on his tablet, “Maybe it’s my inner scientist, but I’m curious how far we can push this.”

“No! Don’t!” Kate screamed.

“Klyntar.”

Power.

Intoxicating and addictive power surged through Kate’s body. Her teeth gnashed together like an animal and her muscles rippled. Stripped from head to toe, her pale skin was coated in a sheen of fresh sweat. More beast than human, her once sweet voice made guttural and incomprehensible grunts. The pleasure coursing through her wasn’t derived through sex, but the knowledge she’d dominated her weaker and pathetic prey.

“More!” Kate screamed, bashing her thick strap-on deep into Dagger’s asshole. “More!”

“P-please fuck me!” Dagger cried between sobs. Freed from her shackles, and now kneeling on the table, the blonde made no move against her. Kate had seen that her prey was well and fully broken. So much so, she’d been the one to beg for her cock. “I l-love it!”

“I don’t believe you!” Kate’s fingernails clawed Tandy’s pale skin, dragging the girl’s backside against her. She reveled in how the dancer’s toned body was perfectly suited to take her cock. Any other person would’ve broken beneath her manic and wild thrusts, but Tandy was the perfect whore. She’d be Kate’s forever and ever and—

What had she done?

Kate reeled back, her cock plopping from Dagger’s hole. The girl’s ass gaped open obscenely, wide enough that someone could stick a fist into her.

“D-d-d-d-did I do something wrong, Mistress?” Tandy whined. “I was stupid! I’m sorry, Mistress! I’m sorry! Please forgive your stupid whore!”

“No!” Kate gripped her head, swinging around. “This isn’t me! This isn’t me!” Unbuckling the strap-on, she threw it away like it was evil. She dropped to her knees, tears flowing down her face. “… this can’t be me.”

With a loud fwoosh, the door slid open. Again, his footsteps were silent, but she could feel his presence beside her. Hear his subtle breathing. When his hand rested on her shoulder, she didn’t fight it. If anything, she leaned into it, pressing her cheek against his arms as she silently wept.

“I didn’t think I was capable of doing what I’ve done either,” Peter soothed, “But we all have a darkness inside of us and it’s important to be aware of it.”

“I don’t like it…” Kate sobbed.

“You don’t have to,” Peter said, “But you can learn to enjoy it.”

“No,” Kate shook her head, “get it out of me. Erase it. Can you make it so I don’t feel this way?”

“I can,” Peter said.

“Thank—”

“What will you do for me?”

She should’ve known.

“… anything,” Kate whispered. “I’ll do anything.”

“Remember what I asked you to do earlier?”

Earlier? What did he… oh…

Kate opened her mouth.

“Good girl,” Peter pulled his cock from his suit. Kate didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t the thing before her. He was massive, and her body trembled at the thought of fitting something so big inside her little mouth.

Gripping his dick in her small hands, she lifted it upward so she could get her lips near his heavy cum filled balls. She’d done oral before, but this was different, this had to be the best head she’d given in her life to wash this part of her personality away. She couldn’t just blow him, she needed to worship him. Bathing them in her tongue, she slathered his balls with spit. She nuzzled her head beneath his cock, breathing him in.

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes as she slid her tongue out from beneath his heavy sack. With carefully controlled grace, she dragged her nose beneath his rod, shivering at how warm his skin was. She rounded her nose up over the cockhead, careful not to disrupt the bead of precum now drooling down in a long strand. Gingerly sticking out her little pink tongue, she captured it and slurped it into her mouth.

She didn’t hold back when she engulfed the tip of his enormous rod and slowly began her trek. It was rough, but she pressed further downward as her eyes bulged ever wider. She’d just begun, his member wasn’t even pressed against the back of her throat, and already her jaw ached at the sheer magnitude of her man. But she pressed on, keeping her hands busy cupping his heavy balls in her little hands. Her throat began pulsing, ready to retch, but she ignored her body’s instinct to survive and forced herself downward. Delving further and further.

She pulled back, slowly, tracing her plump lips over the length of him. The moment her lips passed his cockhead a fountain of saliva and precum poured down her chin and onto the floor. She kissed the tip, washing her tongue against him, before showering his rod with light kisses.

Beginning her steady rhythm, she only went halfway down this time. Using her hands around the remainder of his shaft to massage him toward the journey to climax. She kept at it, running her hands up and down the prominent vein and tickling the underside with her tongue.

A devilish urge crossed her mind. It was risky, stupid even, but her pussy twinged at the thought, and she couldn’t stop herself even if she tried. Her teeth grazed his cock, just a little, but enough that she knew he’d feel it.

Peter grunted, his fingers went to her hair, and she feared he was going to throw her away. But then they settled gracefully on her head, stroking her ebony locks. Her pussy spasmed, and she did it again, dragging her teeth along him with a little extra force this time. Again, he groaned, and she couldn’t keep her hand from her cunt even if she tried.

“You sure you want this part of you gone?” Peter chuckled, “I think you like it.”

She didn’t answer, too busy finger fucking and deepthroating to pay attention. Her hand gripped his shaft tighter, knowing she was causing him pain, but Peter didn’t stop her. Did he like it? No, that wasn’t it. He liked what she was turning into. And as much as it scared her, she was beginning to like it too.

“Haven’t had one like this since Cat,” Peter muttered, and suddenly his fingers seized around her head, “But I’ll need to rush this along.”

His cock plundered her face. Jabbing against the back of her throat and pushing past her tonsils. Her eyes bulged as her throat was pummeled by quick and vicious strikes. Her eyes traveled up to his chest and then to his face. His eyes were wild, and a darkness clouded his features. Was that how she looked? Is that what Dagger saw?

Gluk-gluk-gluk-gluk-gluk!

Spittle flooded down Kate’s chin and onto her chest. With her free hand, she smeared it over her tits and rubbed it into her skin. Her finger brushed her nipples, and she was stunned by how hard they’d gotten.

Peter groaned, and she felt a torrential spurt blast against the back of her throat. And her muscles swallowed it all down, filling her belly. He thrust into his worthless cum receptacle again, plastering the back of her throat. It twitched, shooting out his molten seed.  It was hot and greasy; the flavor was a mix of salt and waste.

It went down thick and warm, but she swallowed it all the same. With a sly smile, as she dragged him out of her mouth she slipped her incisor over his head. He let out another grunt, before a string of chuckles. It gave her a thrill, caused a flutter in her heart, and suddenly she was panting and eager for more.

“Alright,” Peter said, “Deals a deal, I’ll have Julia erase your sadist streak.”

It’s what she wanted. It was the deal. It’s something a true hero shouldn’t have. But…

“You’re going to make us forget this ever happened, right??” Kate asked.

“Yeah,” Peter said.

“Then leave it at that,” Kate said. “Keep me the way I am.”

“Heh,” Peter smiled, “you like it, don’t you?”

She swallowed, “Well… you could damage something and—"

“No need to explain,” he shrugged, “whatever helps you sleep at night. Just wait here and—"

“Wait…”

“What now?” Peter sighed.

Kate glanced over at Dagger; the girl hadn’t budged an inch. Her asshole had shrunk somewhat, but it still was wide enough to stick a few fingers in.

“Ten minutes,” Kate whispered, “Ten minutes alone with her.”

Peter grinned, “Make them count.”

Her head hurt.

Which was good.

It meant she was still breathing.

“Hey! We got another one over here!”

Kate’s weary eyes fluttered open as light pierced through the darkness around her. Fear gripped the seasoned archer, and her heart thundered in her chest. Where was she? What was going on?

Acting out of instinct, she reached for her bow. Her slender fingers fumbled around in the darkness as the light ahead of her grew brighter. The rough scraping of rubble, a noise she was all too familiar with, rumbled all around her. Her hand clasped around a familiar metal rod, and she snatched it up. Through weight and feeling alone, she knew it was a putty arrow.

Without her bow for security, she pointed the arrow ahead of her like a dagger, her fingers shook, and her eyes were wide with fear.

A huge hunk of rubble was thrown away, and the lights of the city bathed her in their familiar glow. Lying prone on the ground, Kate stared up into familiar white lenses.

“Is that an arrow or are you just happy to see me?” Spider-Man asked, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

Kate didn’t lower the arrow.

“Kate!” Clint brushed past Spider-Man, gathering her up in his arms.

The arrow fell from her hand and clattered on the asphalt. He gripped her tightly, held her close to his chest, and she heard him sighing with relief. He smelled like smoke and sweat, but she didn’t care. She hugged him back.

“Dammit, kid,” Clint muttered, “You had me scared I was going to be the only Hawkeye again.”

Kate barely heard him, staring over his shoulder at the web-slinger.

“Do you two need a moment?” Spider-Man asked.

“No,” Kate smirked, “Someone’s just worried he lost his favorite dog sitter.”

“Second favorite,” Clint chuckled, “Steve just played frisbee with him, so you got bumped down a spot.”

Kate patted his back, “Alright, you can let go of me now.”

“You sure?” Clint asked, “You’ve been trapped under there for hours.”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle myself,” Kate nodded.

“Anything I can get for you?” Spider-Man asked.

“Do you have any water?” Kate smacked her lips, “I have this weird taste in my mouth.”

Chapter Text

Her name is Jessica Jones, and this has been a long time coming.

Most retired heroes leaped back into action within a few months, but she prided herself as the rare exception. Motherhood had a way of putting things into perspective, and that fisheye lens narrowed its scope quickly. Despite all her super friends who said differently, she’d never been much of a superhero anyway. She’d settle for being a good mom. That was more than enough.

But no matter how hard she tried; she couldn’t turn off the part of her brain that connected dots. Some dots were unanswered phone calls or a friend acting out of character, little things that only a crazy person would mull over. But when she took all these dots, grouped them up, and connected them the worst possible outcome happened: she’d spun a web. 

Times like these were why she used to drink. Spending her days digging for a speck of dirt had almost worn her down to a stump. Only her husband Luke and daughter Danielle kept her from wearing away to nothing. She wasn’t just living, she was thriving, and she thought she wouldn’t jeopardize any of it for the world.

Until today.

She could still go to the others, and tell her husband the horrible truth, these were the safest options. But she was a private investigator at her core, nothing would shake that, and there was this thing called client confidentiality. Sure, he never hired her, but she owed him the chance to explain himself. Hell, the whole world owed him a thousand times over. He wasn’t just another hero.

Peter Parker was the best of them.

Midtown High.

Was it weird it still smelled the same? A mix of old pennies and hormones. Jessica wrinkled her nose, her leather boots clomped on the tile floor. She’d passed her old locker on the way in, it still had the same dent in the lower right corner. A keepsake from one of Flash Thompson’s hissy fits. To think Parker could’ve decked him at any time showed the depth of his restraint. But it also was a testament to his character and the man she’d admired.

Classes were out for the day and had been for nearly an hour now, but she’d familiarized herself with his schedule. He’d be grading papers for at least another twenty minutes. He kept the classroom door unlocked with the shades drawn. He’d make himself a cup of coffee in the teacher’s lounge and bring it back to his desk: no cream, two sugars. His suit would be wrinkled, his hair messy, but behind that disheveled appearance was a genius.

That’s right. Keep treating him like someone cheating on their wife and maybe she could keep some emotional distance from him. But the moment she stepped into his classroom it all went to shit.

There he was, just like he’d been in high school. Hunched over a desk, tapping a pencil, and furrowing his brow while looking at a paper. She was taken back to being a teenage girl in seconds, swept up in that boy.

“Jessica?” Peter looked up with that same award-winning smile ready. “Oh my gosh!” He stood up, his chair scraped on the tile. “Hey, you should’ve told me you were coming. I would’ve put some thumbtacks on the chairs for you.” He winked, “Good old high school experience, right?”

Jessica wanted to get swept up in his charm. Instead, she shut the door behind her.

“Okay…” Peter started, “… before you say you’ll do anything for an A, I want you to know I’m happily married.”

“I could play along, but I have too much respect for you,” Jessica said, crossing her arms over her chest. The familiar squeak of her leather jacket emboldened her. Some chose spandex or metal suits, but this was her armor. “What did you do to Jessica Drew?”

Peter blinked. “Wait, something happened to Jess?”

“Don’t do this…”

“Fill me in,” Peter lunged toward the large cabinet beside his desk. “I’ll be ready in—"

“Why are you doing this?”

Peter gripped the handle, turned, and asked, “What?”

“I didn’t drive up here in the Mystery Machine with four coked-out hippies,” Jessica muttered. “I just said how much respect I had for you and you’re still fucking with me,”

Then he did something new. Something she’d never seen before. He scowled at her. It broke through her armor and chilled her blood. She staggered back, as if struck, and backed into a row of desks.

“Because I don’t have any respect for you,” Peter snarled. “You’re a stupid, cowardly, bitch who thinks she’s tough because she learned a new dirty word from Netflix. A wannabe hero who was washed up before she even retired.”

Jessica bolted for the door. Whoever the hell that was, it wasn’t Peter.

Suddenly she froze, and not by her own volition. Her body turned around, muscles straining against a terrifyingly familiar numbing in her brain.

Peter had opened the cabinet door, revealing a naked red-haired woman. Her arms were bound behind her back and her legs were tied above her head to the coat rack, revealing her pink pussy. Several vibrators were jammed inside her, buzzing like mad, and two more were over either nipple.

“Good job, Julia,” Peter stroked Madame Web's folds, sending shivers up the woman’s body. “Looks like having a precog for a pet was good for something.”

“May I cum this week, sir?” Julia gasped; her fogged-over eyes rolled back.

“You already know the answer to that,” Peter clucked. “Now get ready to put her to sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” Julia sniveled.

“Luke knows where I am,” Jessica tried to scream, but all that came out was a whisper. “So, think long and fucking hard before you disappear me too.”

“Oh, I’ve other plans for you,” Peter reached into his pocket and produced a small cartridge. “Starting with the first step…” he tapped his chin, “Let’s call it catch and release.”

Jessica breathed in something strong and sweet before darkness took her.  

It all began when Carol Danvers sent her an invite to brunch. Jessica Jones hadn’t spent time with her best friend since Peter and Mary Jane’s wedding, so their reunion was long overdue. Doreen, her babysitter, insisted she enjoy herself. Little did Jessica know this would be the last time she’d meet a friend with peace of mind.

Carol wasn’t a mess, but she was the closest you could get to one without leaving city limits. Jessica Drew, the first Spider-Woman, had supposedly gone on a mission for SHIELD. But something told Carol otherwise. Besides having no record of said mission, none of her contacts in the organization were aware of one. As far as they knew, Spider-Woman wasn’t affiliated with SHIELD anymore. So why would Drew leave a message for Carol saying she was going to Latveria of all places?

As usual, Carol did that thing where she asked for help by not asking for help, waiting for Jessica to volunteer. And being the sucker she was, Jessica did, believing it was just another Spider-related incident that could be cleared up in a weekend. But tugging on this thread yanked her into a web of debauchery.

Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy were a couple now, which was news to her, and news to Gwen too. The dimension-hopping drummer thought they were just “fooling around”, but it was clear their nightly escapades had given Miles the wrong idea. Even more, the poor kid had been missing classes to spend time with her. That alone wasn’t concerning, she wasn’t even alarmed after meeting with Silk.

Having not spent much time with Cindy Moon, Jones didn’t know what was typical for the woman. Thus, she wasn’t alarmed to find out the superheroine was sleeping around with multiple heroes. Prowler and Echo were one thing, even Moon Knight if you want to get freaky, but she raised an eyebrow seeing her fucking Night Thrasher in a back alley. Maybe she was just a whore, Jones did recall something about pheromones. So, she moved on to Anya, which was when things got complicated.

She knew Danny Rand; he was an honorable man who certainly didn’t fuck barely legal girls. Imagine her surprise when she saw the girl climbing out of his penthouse with cum stains across her practically flat chest. She nearly busted his door down for an explanation, and Danny was quick to confess everything. He’d been injured during Elektra’s attack and Anya offered to look after him. One thing led to another, and they were in an open relationship, though it was clear Danny was infatuated with her. Maybe if he wasn’t so tired he would’ve noticed all the signs he’d been seduced, but everyone was tired lately.

Crime in the streets had picked up substantially since The Hand’s attack. It wasn’t unusual for criminals to be emboldened after the city took a hit. But usually, the heroes banded together as a unified force. Only it didn’t happen this time. Some were busy, others were injured, but their numbers had dwindled without anyone to rally behind. Daredevil was busy with Elektra, Luke was needed at home, and Spider-Man was… not around.

What happened the night The Hand attacked, anyway? Why did it happen? Ninjas typically didn’t announce their reasoning, but usually Elektra did. Jessica did some digging into the assassin’s history and found something… disturbing. A collector, and old client, came forward with an image he snagged before it was erased from every corner of the internet.

Sometimes heroines’ costumes tore, or a camera drone flew by at the right time, which was why Tony Stark drummed up an algorithm to erase “adult” images of the hero community. But this client had a knack for grabbing them before the program could wipe them. Which was how she saw a copy of Elektra being fucked on the side of a building the night of the attack. But that didn’t make sense since Elektra wasn’t supposed to be in the database.

She interviewed everyone at the attack that night, or as many as she could, and it quickly became the same story. Knocked unconscious. Woke up beneath rubble. Missing time. Had the attack been a cover for something even more malicious?

The last interview was the most disturbing. Kate Bishop had recently been “let go” from the Young Avengers. She didn’t want to talk about it, which meant Jessica dug deeper. The girl had been knocked unconscious, lost time, and was buried beneath rubble; the usual. The only difference was when she came out of it, she came out… changed. Cassie Lang tearfully recounted how her friend snuck into her room at night and molested her. It was horrifying, and Jessica spent hours consoling the girl.

But what did it all mean? What connected these events? Promiscuous heroines, seduced heroes, altered personalities, an algorithm that erased images, an attack by assassins, all of this was so much bigger than a missing Spider-Woman. It seemed random and she spent long nights trying to uncover what connected it all. Which is when she realized it. This case had a hole in it. A hole usually filled by someone who was everywhere.

Spider-Man.

While he was there the night The Hand attacked, he was a blip in the fight. If anything, most of the people said Spider-Man was there, but they couldn’t say where or for how long. Almost like he’d been inserted into their stories. But afterward, he’d been so far removed from everything it was like he was trying to disappear. And maybe he was.

But when she dropped by the Parker household, she wasn’t expecting… well, any of what she saw through the basement window. Felicia Hardy was naked, screaming as she was hosed down by an equally naked Mary Jane. Through the living room window, she could see Gwen Stacy humping a doorknob. Julia Carpenter was licking one of the windows clean upstairs. She was just about to investigate the attic when she heard someone “thwip”. She ran while she could.

It was then she knew she needed answers from Peter. Somewhere in public where nothing could happen. But he wouldn’t hurt her, right?

Hangovers were like high school friends. They showed up when you least expected them and overstayed their welcome. Luke and Jessica referred to her drunken years as time spent with “high school friends”. She subscribed to that hard BDSM site when she was with “high school friends”. She slept around back when she was with “high school friends”. She pissed herself four times when she was with “high school friends”.

But after peeling her face off the metal toilet seat, it dawned on Jessica that the number went up to five.

“Fuck,” Jessica groaned, she hated piss. Even her own. Even becoming a mother hadn’t numbed her to her visceral hatred of it. But those thoughts could come later. She was abruptly greeted by the familiar throbbing only vodka could accomplish. Noises were too loud, lights were too bright, and everything was too damn much. Someone was talking, someone familiar, but she was assaulted by too much to focus on what they were saying. Was she sitting? Or was she lying down? Her stomach lurched and she felt bile billowing up her throat.

Suddenly a single word cut through it all: “Klyntar.”

Instantly, the fog cleared, and Jessica’s senses were flooded with stimuli. Stark-white walls, the strong scent of antibacterial soap, and the dull humming of electricity pumping through the fluorescent lights bombarded her from all angles. Her clothes were replaced with a rough and itchy orange material that chafed her skin. Struggling to her feet, she braced herself on a bleached concrete wall. Beside the toilet was a metal cot, bolted to the floor, without a blanket or pillow. A large iron door blocked her exit with a thick glass window in the center. In seconds, she knew where she was.

“No… no, no, no, no, no!” Jessica frantically stumbled toward the door. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t happening. Reeling back, she slammed her fist against the metal with all her might. A loud cry tore from her throat and she clutched her throbbing hand… her powers were gone. They must’ve drugged her. They drugged everyone imprisoned at the Raft. 

“Break a nail?”

Jessica whirled around. Nestled up in the corner of her cell loomed Spider-Man. By his voice, she knew a Cheshire grin was hidden behind his mask. Peter dropped from his spot on the ceiling, landing soundlessly.

“Love the new outfit, you look great in orange,” he said, strutting toward her. “I know it’s not very homey, but I’m sure a potted plant or maybe a nice straitjacket could spruce it up.”

“Get away from me!” Jessica shrieked, stumbling back. “Help! Luke!”

“Oh… you really don’t remember anything, do you?” Peter advanced on her like a tiger, finally showing his true stripes. “The new batch of pheromones didn’t turn out like I wanted either. While it didn’t make you a lust-crazed freak, it did bring up… old vices.”

“Vices?” Jessica staggered back.

“It made you crave alcohol instead of sex,” Peter said, “My trigger word is suppressing it right now, but the moment I say it again you’ll return to being that same booze addict who drunkenly knocked a school bus off the Brooklynn Bridge.”

Her bloodshot eyes widened, her stomach churned, and her legs turned to jelly.

“Everyone is safe,” Peter reassured her, “a few broken bones, but nothing too serious. But we did have to bring you here until your trial. For your own safety, of course.” He sighed, “Such a shame too, we all thought you were doing so well.”

Jessica’s legs went weak, and she collapsed to the floor, on the verge of hyperventilating. She covered her mouth with trembling fingers, heavy tears dripping over her hands.

“Luke hasn’t said anything about divorce but he’s taking it pretty hard.”

Her life. Everything she built. Everyone she loved.

“I-I’ll tell everyone.”

“Who’d believe a drunk like you?”

His shadow overtook her, blocking out the light, and she was enveloped by his darkness. Tilting her head back, she couldn’t even see the glint of white in the lenses of his mask. It was like staring into a dark and endless void.

Out of all the questions she had, she found herself asking, “What happened to you?”

“A lot,” Peter said grimly. “But you should worry about yourself.” For the briefest of moments, she swore she saw his outline swirl around him before his appearance snapped back in an instant. Then he was back to that glib persona. With a few raps on the door, he said, “Send him in.”

A light above the door flashed yellow, followed by the bleat of an alarm. With a loud “ka-thunk”, the lock slid away and the door swung open. As much as she wanted to launch herself toward freedom, she knew she’d never escape Spider-Man.

A man with a leather bag over his head was roughly shoved into the room. He wore a similar jumpsuit, though his hands were cuffed behind his back. A blonde woman with large glasses rushed in behind him. Unlike everyone else, she was dressed in a long white lab coat.

“He can be in here for two minutes, sir,” she said to Spider-Man, “any longer and someone will notice the cameras are on a loop.”

“Fine with me,” Peter gripped the leather bag, “This shouldn’t take long.” He ripped it off, exposing the purple skin beneath.

Jessica shrieked, scrambling away as those piercing purple eyes seemed to grin at her. Zebidiah Killgrave tried to smile around the gag in his mouth, but Peter gripped him by the chin and roughly pulled him close.

“You don’t say anything else than what I told you. Understand?” Peter asked. Killgrave nodded, and Peter began adjusting the mechanical gag.

Wait. Killgrave’s powers didn’t work on her. If Peter didn’t know that, maybe she could use it to her advantage.

The gag popped loose, Killgrave wiggled his jaw, and said, “Kill yourself, Spider-Man.”

Peter backhanded Killgrave, sending the man sprawling to the floor.

“Try that again…” Peter started toward the Purple Man, his frame seemingly growing as inky black tendrils rippled throughout his red and blue suit.

On the ground, helpless, Killgrave stared at the growing monster in terror.

“Y-you’re not Spider-Man…”

“I said…” Peter hissed, “… try that again.” 

“Get away from me!” Killgrave managed to scream out just before Peter gripped him by the front of his jumpsuit and hauled him skyward. “Put me down! Free me! Let me go!”

“Good,” Peter growled, “we knew this would work.” He looked over at Jessica, thrusting Killgrave towards her, “Now, say you’re damn line!”

Killgrave cried out, “Do whatever he asks you to!” The next second a gob of webbing encompassed his mouth and Peter threw him out of the cell. The blonde woman stared after, cowering before Spider-Man.

“Get him back to his cell,” Peter hissed,

“Yes, sir,” the woman nodded, “… um, this might be a bad time… but…”

“Spit it out!” Peter snarled.

“Y-you said we could do it again if I did whatever you asked so…” she whimpered.

“Coleman,” Peter sighed, “Next time.”

“Thank you, sir!” she nodded, scurrying out of the room. “I’ll shave my pussy this time, I promise!” The door slid closed behind her; clanking shut.

His form still rising and falling, Spider-Man turned his attention back to Jessica. She had curled into a ball in his presence, his frame still unnaturally large. Things were starting to make sense now, and it was much more horrifying than a power-mad Peter.

“I-I can help you…” Jessica whispered.

His chest rising and falling, Peter stalked toward her, his eyes glowing bright white.

Suddenly his form snapped back to normal, and he was the same lanky hero he’d been before.

“Thanks, but I already know where all the good dive bars are,” Peter laughed. “But for real, you’re doing plenty. You see, I know how Killgrave’s pheromones don’t work on you anymore. But you’ve been soaking in Spider-Woman’s pheromones for a while now. So, I’m betting that barrier against Killgrave isn’t built to take a double hit.” He pulled his mask up, exposing his mouth, “Stand up.”

She was on her feet.

“No…” Jessica covered her mouth with her hands. She should’ve screamed, but what came out was a defeated whimper, “…no.”

“Now…” Peter started pulling off his gloves, “Let’s have some real fun.”

Jessica’s discarded jumpsuit was wadded up in the toilet. She’d shoved it in there using only her face. Her plain white panties were jammed in her mouth, drool oozing down her chin and dripping onto her creamy white breasts. The mother’s pink nipples stood erect; their hue darkened after being mauled by her fingers.

Knees digging into the hard and gritty concrete floor, she spread her legs apart so Peter could watch as she toyed with her furry cunt. Her slender fingers wound around a single strand of her curly pubic hair, giving it a slight tug. She squeaked, the hair coming dangerously close to being plucked. Her wide eyes watched Peter, sitting on her cot, grinning from ear to ear.

“Pull it out,” Peter said.

Jessica yipped as her body ripped out the hair. Her cunt lips burning.

“Add it to the others,” Peter said.

Jessica dragged the panties out of her mouth, a trail of spit coming with them, before planting the hair on her tongue. Slipping the digit back in, she swallowed what must’ve been her thirtieth hair. It went down wiry and rough, falling into her stomach. She obediently opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, proving she’d done her job.

“Good,” Peter grinned, “Now slap that cunt until I tell you to stop.”

Her other hand immediately struck her abused pussy, causing a cry of agony to spill from her lips. It stung like hell, but what was worse was how wet she was. Her pussy was oozing fresh juice so freely she’d left a stain on the floor. It wasn’t because she was aroused, Peter had ordered her to “leak”. So she was.

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

Jessica cried with every hit, her body shaking as she debased herself in front of him.

“Twirl those panties around like a cowgirl,” Peter said.

Jessica spun the panties on her finger while slapping her cunt. Her cheeks burned in shame, but her body wasn’t her own anymore.

“Slap harder.”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

“Please!” she cried, her poor pussy burning from her wild blows, “Stop!”

“Fine,” Peter said, “Stop.”

Both of Jessica’s arms went slack, and she nearly fell over. He hadn’t even touched her, and she felt like she was about to collapse. Just like before. It was happening all over again.

“Grab a fistful of that bush,” Peter said.

“No… please…” but Jessica’s hand had already done it. She winced, her fingers lacing through her curly dark thatch.

“This isn’t an order,” Peter said, “But I would appreciate it if you told me whether there was a part of you that liked being with Killgrave.”

He already knew. But he wanted her to offer it up herself. She swallowed, closed her eyes, and whispered, “Yes.”

“I always suspected,” Peter chuckled, “Feel free to tell me more.”

God, she hated him. But she knew her pussy was at stake; one word and he’d have her rip that hair free. So, she gave him what he wanted, “He never touched me. He said he’d never have sex with a filthy superhero. So, he made me do other things.

“On the first night, he found a waitress and told her to bring us to her home. She lived with two roommates, so he ordered them to strip. He had them all masturbate each other, telling them I was a superhero who could save them. They cried and begged for me to help, but I… I loved watching them. I took their TV remote and fucked myself while they made each other cum.

“Another night, he let me save someone. I rescued a girl who was being mugged. Then… then he made me rip her clothes off and grind against her face. He just watched as I came on her, squirting until her makeup ran. Then he had me leave her tied to a swing set at a playground for people to find. And I liked it.

“But-but the best night was when he let me choose. He let me choose who I wanted to rape. I-I picked someone who looked like Carol. Blonde with big tits. I loved how she cried and begged me to let her go. I was even dressed in my costume… but I still think about it today. I saw her again, you know, I saw her go into a Starbucks bathroom. So… so I followed her. While she was in the stall I told her how badly I missed her and how much I wanted her to eat me out again. She started sobbing and ran out of the bathroom without her pants and underwear. I… I kept them. They’re hidden in my apartment. I stuff them inside my cunt and scream ‘Carol’ as I cum!”

“And I thought I was fucked up,” Peter scoffed, “You can let go of your bush.”

“Thank you,” she looked down, sniveling.

“So, it’s the power, right?” Peter asked, “You get off on being in control. Does Luke know?”

“He-he doesn’t like it. Before, when I was a private investigator, sometimes I blackmailed people and made them… do things.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Eat me out, fuck each other, drink my piss,” she could feel herself salivating at the thought. Her mind recalled a specific time she made an especially bitchy housewife drink a bottle of her urine.

“You have a piss fetish?”

Jessica was silent.

“Answer me.”

“I-I don’t like being anywhere near it,” the next part had to pry itself from her lips, “But I like making others do it. It’s all Killgrave’s fault! He woke something in me and it—"

“No need to explain,” Peter smiled, “I can identify something being awakened. For instance, fuck yourself with one finger.”

Jessica moaned in both pleasure and frustration as something wholly inadequate slipped inside her. It was barely big enough for her to feel.

“Aww,” Peter said, “Too stretched out, aren’t you?”

Jessica was quiet.

“Answer me, slut.”

“Yes!” Jessica’s finger pumped knuckle deep in and out of her faster, “I’m a stretched out, used up, whore! Is that what you want to hear?”

“Probably from having that brat,” Peter snorted, “I bet it’s like throwing a hotdog down a hallway. Apologize for having that pathetic body to put me in the mood.”

In the mood? She was naked and playing with herself. What more could she do?

“I’m sorry for having such flat tits,” Jessica whined, “I’m sorry that my cunt is hairy and I have stretchmarks. I’m sorry my cunny is so stretched out you’d never want to fuck it. I’m sorry I’m so worthless that only my asshole is worth fucking.”

“Stop,” Peter sighed, “It’s not working. Come over here and hump my leg.”

Jessica’s body eagerly crawled over to him, leaving the panties behind. He’d stripped down to nothing and presented his leg to her like a humping post.

Like a pet, Jessica wrapped her arms around his leg and mashed her breasts against his knee. She closed her eyes, lowering her gushing pussy against his skin. Her eyes flew up the moment her lower lips touched him like electricity had seared through her and lit her aflame. Jessica moaned sweetly, pressing her cheeks against him, grinding herself on his limb.

“What is it like being powerless again,” Peter hissed, “You’re just like those poor girls you and Killgrave chewed up and spat out. Except you’re worse. At least he’s honest about being a monster.”

“No,” Jessica grunted. “I’m not a monster.”

“Hump like an animal.” His leg jerked up for only a moment, but it was enough to grind against her nub. A cry of ecstasy spilled free from Jessica’s lips, and before she knew it, she couldn’t hold back any longer. Her body had taken on a mind of its’ own after suffering from such a delightful friction. Hugging his leg, she ground herself up and down. Her lips dragged up and down him, as she bucked like a beast.

Her tongue lolling out, she laid her head on his leg. Panting, she worked herself up and down him with fierce intensity. Her cunt squished madly, his skin now slick with her, but she didn’t stop. If anything, she’d greased him up to go faster.

“Bark like a bitch,” Peter ordered

“Ruff!” Jessica’s whole body turned pink in shame as she barked, “Ruff! Ruff!” She lapped the salty sweat off his leg, humping her juicy lips against his coarse leg hair. She was making love to a leg. All that power and confidence she’d built up, all that control she strove to attain, all frittered away with incessant barking and panting.

“Ride faster,” he ordered.

She picked up the pace, her body lurching back and forth. Her trail of nectar trickled down to his ankle. She moaned, throwing her head back while barking like an animal. She hadn’t felt this trapped in years, not since Killgrave. She hated how he’d awoken this terrible need for control in her, and she thought she’d suppressed it when she gave up her life as a private investigator. But she was always a monster underneath. Maybe it was her fate to be trapped with monsters.

“Alright, I’m getting there…” Peter slid his leg out from under her, Jessica still trying to grasp onto it. “… lick my leg clean.”

She grimaced, while she’d tasted herself before out of curiosity, she didn’t like the flavor. It was too tangy, too salty. But her tongue was soon pressed flat against Peter’s leg and dragging across it like she was savoring every slimy drop. She scooped up her goo, and swished it around in her mouth, before swallowing it. Her stomach lurched, knowing it was joining her pubes. She retched, even as her tongue lapped up a few droplets on his ankle.

“Oh, you don’t like it?”

Jessica shook her head.

“All those other girls had to deal with it, I think it’s only fair you do too,” Peter said. “But maybe it’ll be better fresh. Stop licking and scoop some up from that stretched-out cunt and wipe it around your lips.”

 Letting out a long whine, Jessica reached between her legs. She was stunned by how wet she was, her peach was dripping with nectar. Taking her cupped hand, she smeared it over her lips, smelling the spicy aroma of her sex.

“Good girl,” Peter sighed, “Now sniff your hand.”

Holding it in front of her face, Jessica breathed in her scent. It was musky, fresh, and dripping with spice. Her stomach flipped, and she felt close to retching again.

“You really don’t like it, do you?” Peter sighed, “That’s a shame. Lick that palm clean.”

Jessica’s tongue dragged over her hand, gagging as the taste invaded her mouth. She struggled to pull it away, but she couldn’t stop herself from sucking every finger clean. By the time she was done, she could smell herself on her breath and taste it between her teeth. Her face was marked by her scent; she looked up miserably at Peter.

“You want to wash it off?” Peter asked.

“Yes,” Jessica nodded.

“Piss in your hand and use it to clean yourself,” Peter grinned.

“No, wait! I like it! I like having my juices on my face!”

Jessica’s body moved of its own accord. She crouched down, hand between her legs, and let out a little grunt as she forced her muscles to relax. The hot stream splashed into her palm and spattered on the concrete floor. Jessica moaned in despair as her hand brought itself to her face and began splashing the hot swill over her features. She sputtered and spat it out, but already her hand was going back for seconds.

“Peter, please!” She was silenced as hot piss splashed on her tongue. She fucking hated the taste of urine, it was dirty and gross, but her body seemed to think she was dehydrated by the frequency it was forcing her to drink it.

“Cup your hands and slurp it up,” Peter ordered.

Jessica’s stream was dying, but there was just enough she could fill both her palms with the amber swill. Bringing it to her mouth, she stuck her lips in it. The strong salty smell of acidic piss invaded her nostrils and she nearly choked. But her mouth loudly slurped it up, hungrily downing the yellow waste. It too was added to everything she never thought she’d eat today.

Licking her palms clean, she held them up, showing she’d done a good job.

“P-Peter…” she whimpered, “P-please stop.”

“What’s the matter?” Peter asked, “Is it only fun when we do the things that make you hot and bothered? It’s done wonders for me.” He spread his legs, showing his massive throbbing member. It was just as big as Luke, maybe even bigger, the thick head glistening in the light. A bead of precum leaked down his shaft and dribbled between his heavy balls.

“Don’t, please…” Jessica mumbled out.

“Get on all fours,” Peter ordered.

Her body obeyed, spinning around like an eager bitch in heat, readily presenting her backside to him. What scared her was she didn’t know whether she was following orders, or whether the leg humping had made her so horny she’d do it anyways.

She pushed her plump ass up and out, her thick cheeks wobbling as she wondered which hole he’d claim. She wanted it to be her cunt, she’d had it up the ass before and hated every moment of it. The pain brought her and Luke closer together, but it made her feel so weak and helpless.

“Decent,” Peter mumbled, dragging his fingers over the curve of her cheeks. “But I think someone is a little too eager. Shove your face in that piss puddle.”

“Peter, don’t make—” Her lips were already planted in the puddle, her nose pressed flat against the floor. The sour smell of urine invaded her nose, confusing her even further. She was horny and disgusted all at once, and it was slowly awakening something inside her.

She yipped, feeling strong hands grip her ass. She moaned as he prodded her pussy, his cockhead dragging over her thick lips. It danced up and down her slit, teasing her erect clit, before it slid to her snug asshole and tapped her bud with several audible slaps.

“Tell me which one you’d prefer,” Peter ordered.

“Please, not my ass,” she burbled into her puddle.

“Then you know what to do,” Peter said.

“Please fuck my cunt,” Jessica moaned, “Please fuck my hairy cunt, I’ll make it nice and tight for you! I promise, just please don’t fuck my asshole! Please, Peter, just let me have this one thing! I licked my juices and I drank my piss! Please, just this one thing!”

“Fine, but only if you pull yourself open for me.”

Before Jessica could respond, her arms were pulled out from under her, putting all the weight on her face. Her lips smashed against the stain even as she pulled her cheeks wide. It would all be worth it. She just needed to get off and it would make all this horribleness worth it.

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” Jessica moaned, feeling his cock slide deep into her cunt. God, she was wet. He didn’t even need lube to fill her up, he glided into her with ease. She groaned as inch after inch stuffed her full, his cockhead knocking against her cervix in no time at all. Jessica rocked her hips back, trying to milk as much pleasure as she could from what little Peter gave her.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Peter sighed, “make it dirtier. Lick up that mess.”

Her tongue snaked out, running across the gritty floor like a dog. It was so bitter; it would’ve made her sick if she wasn’t so fucking horny. There it was again, that little twinge of pleasure from the salty swill. Was he corrupting her further? Testing it, she lapped up a little more and felt that same wonderful flutter along her clit. Why? What was happening?

He began pulling out, and she moaned with desire. The feeling of his thick cockhead dragging through her hole was euphoric. Her eyes rolled back and she lapped up more of the puddle. It was making it better somehow, what she hated was heightening her pleasure. 

He pulled out all the way and roughly stabbed his cock into her asshole.

Jessica shrieked as she was split open by his masterful cock. It pried her muscles aside and burrowed deep inside her hole. It burned going down and she could feel her guts rearranging themselves as she was stuffed down to his balls. She screamed into her puddle, sobbing, but her body still held herself open.

“Fuck!” Peter hissed, “Trying to keep this treasure from me?” He hammered into her hole, ignoring Jessica as she cried into the floor.

She wanted to keep just one thing. Just one. But Peter took the last remaining bit of power from her too. He’d robbed her of her freedom, her family, her life, and now even her asshole wasn’t safe. It all belonged to Peter.

Sniveling, she fought to find pleasure in the misery.

What she found was a puddle.

Still cleaning the floor, the sickening pool ignited a furnace inside her. Was this how all those other women felt? Having to guzzle down her amber waste while they cried and begged for mercy. Did they get wet from it too? Did she awaken something in them? Had all those women and girls returned home to their partners and begged to drink fresh urine? Was this all just some sick cycle?

And why the fuck was that idea turning her on so damn much?

“Fuck!” Jessica cried, the pain lessening and being replaced with unnatural euphoria. He was so much better than Luke, strumming her insides like they were a harp. A guttural moan echoed up her throat and spilled out into the pool on the floor. She humped back against him, trying to hold herself together as her ass was robbed from her husband. Pleasure was quickly building up inside her and spilling out through her cunt. She was leaking down her inner thighs and she suspected Peter would make her clean that up too.

“Thank me,” Peter slapped her ass.

“Thaaaaannk yoooooou!” Jessica squealed, feeling her orgasm tearing toward her. She was going to cum and she could tell it was going to be a big one. A nice, warm, juicy orgasm. Something to ease her suffering, to just allow a bit of escape from her miserable existence.

“Don’t cum.”

What?

She was right on the edge, just on the brink of heaven. Usually, she could ride this feeling, savor it, but she was so close to climax it just came across like a prolonged ache. An ache that was turning into a burn.

“Please! Peter! Let me cum!”

He ignored her.

“Peter, I’ll lick my piss!” She stuck her tongue out, lapping at the floor. She slurped loudly, but it wasn’t having the same effect as before. It was just building in her, like a dam about to rupture. “I’ll drink your piss too! Please!”

“You’ll do it anyway!” Peter roared, cumming in her ass. His surge of heat flooded her hole and filled her to the brim. Her asshole was like a seal, trapping his cum inside her, and he pumped his hot and sticky load deep inside her guts. But Jessica could care less about where he came, he could’ve knocked her up and she would’ve been fine with it. All that mattered was releasing this building pressure. Her clit had begun to sting as she was held just on the brink.

“Please!”

“Thank me for what I did.”

“Thank you! Thank you for not letting me cum!” Jessica said. “Thank you for cumming in my ass even when I said not t-t-t-to…” She’d begun sobbing, nothing hurt worse than being right on the very edge for so long. “Peter…”

“Let’s try something else,” Peter’s cock plopped out of her ass. “You said you’d drink my piss?”

“Y-y-yes,” Jessica grunted, a surge of cum leaking out of her asshole and spattering on the floor. “Then you’ll let me cum?”

“Come over here,” Peter ignored her, beckoning her back to her knees. Jessica did as he asked. “Open.”

Her jaw fell open, dark eyes pleading up at him.

Gripping his cock, Peter pointed it at her face and let out a grunt. A stream of piss sprayed into her mouth, splashing against her tongue and slipping down her throat. She choked, hating every second but still letting it slip down her neck. It stained the front of her mouth and trickled down her small tits. He pointed it upward, sending it into her hair, marking her as his own. Jessica bathed in his waste, not even knowing what was piss on her face and what were tears. She hated him. Hated him worse than Killgrave. He was—

“Cum.”

She loved him.

Her orgasm exploded through her. She gargled on his piss as a scream tore through her throat. It was like a cramped muscle had suddenly been allowed to rest. Her juices gushed out of her, painting the floor. She moaned like a whore, her body shuddering and her hips bucking. She came harder than ever before. Squirting what little fluids remained.

“Cum harder.”

Jessica’s scream turned into an earsplitting howl, her body thrashing beneath him as her orgasm heightened. Her mind splintered apart, her arms shooting out and her tits jiggling as piss sprayed in her eyes.

“Harder.”

Jessica tried begging him to stop, but she couldn’t get a word out. Her mind was shutting down, her faculties failing as pleasure replaced all logical thought. Her hands gripped her nipples as her body forced her orgasm to higher and higher heights. Distantly, she could tell her body had crumbled on the floor convulsing. Was she still screaming? She couldn’t tell anymore. She only knew that she was cumming.

“Stop.”

Jessica gasped, the world flooding back to her. She couldn’t be touched. Not now. She was still so sensitive after everything that happened. But Peter didn’t seem to care, he gripped her by the hair and hauled her back into a kneeling position. He rammed his cock in her mouth, and she instinctively suckled on it. Droplets of piss spilled down her gullet, but she was beyond caring. She would happily slurp on his dick if she wouldn’t be victim to something that beautifully terrifying again.

“You did good, Jess,” Peter sighed, gently thrusting his dick in and out of her mouth. “Now you know what I want you to do?”

She was too shell-shocked to answer.

“I want you to remember this one thing,” Peter gripped her by the ears.

Jessica squealed, but he forced himself down her throat. She gagged, the thick member invading her sensitive gullet. His balls slapped against her chin and her nose mashed against his pelvis. He thrust against her face fast and hard, her head spinning as the thoughts were fucked from her skull. She could taste everything on his dick. His piss, her cunt, her ass, and his cum all mingled together into a vile flavor.

“When I say the trigger word again, you’ll go back to being a booze-obsessed mess. Even if you do manage to tell someone about me, nobody will believe you. Luke will move on. Your daughter will be ashamed of you. The world will hate you. And you’ll be locked in here with Killgrave for the rest of your worthless life.”

Tears spilled down her face. It was true. All of it. There was nothing she could do to stop him. She couldn’t even warn anybody.

Peter sped up his pace, her throat bulging beneath his fast and vicious pumps.

GLUUUUURK! GUUUUULLLK! GELLLLLK!

Peter grunted, hilting himself inside her maw, enjoying her tight hole. Drool gushed down Jessica’s chin and spattered on her knees. Her eyes rolled back as the air slipped from her lungs. Her throat struggled to accommodate him, and she reached up to massage his cockhead through her neck. She felt the tip in her gullet, and massaged it, hoping to draw the seed out as best she could. She prayed he’d cum soon before she passed out. And if there was a god, he answered this last request.

His cock twitched and his balls tightened. A splash of cum flooded her throat and spilled into her belly. He ripped himself from her maw, releasing a flood of cum and spit, before shooting the rest off on her face. Jessica coughed and sputtered but let his thick ropes of seed coat her visage. It was thick and soupy, a glop that sealed her eyes shut. She didn’t know when he finished. Only that she was shaken from her misery when he spoke above her.

“Any last requests?” he asked.

Jessica swallowed the load in her mouth, feeling the thick goo squeeze down her ravaged throat. She wiped the cum from her eyes, blinking up at Peter’s sinister grin.

“I’m not escaping this, am I?”

“Nope.”

Then there was only one thing left she could ask for.

“Cum in my pussy.”

“What?” Peter scoffed.

“They’ll put me in the maternity wing,” she whimpered, “Please, Peter. I don’t know what you are now, but please… just this one thing.”

Peter looked her over quizzically, crossed his arms, and said, “You’ve got enough there. I’m sure stuffing some in will do the job.”

She didn’t even bother begging again. Instead, she nodded and guided her fingers full of cream to her still-aching cunt. She had to be quick about it, she never knew when he would say—

“Klyntar.”

Down at the pier, Peter and Julia Carpenter stared at the Raft from the safety of a park bench. Both were back in their civilian clothes, both drinking from thermoses. Julia wore her newly acquired black leather jacket, a gift from Peter. Jessica certainly wouldn’t need it any longer. After all, to the victor went the spoils. 

“Did you get what we needed?” Peter asked.

“It was easier once you’d broken her,” Julia said, her eyes hidden behind red shades. “The psychic barriers were… tricky. How did you know about them?”

“Spider-Woman has been a bit chattier lately,” Peter shrugged, “I think she’s lonely.”

“Whatever the case, she was right. Jean Grey was the one to put those barriers up,” Julia said, sipping from her cup of coffee. “And now we know what it takes to break an omega-level mutant’s psychic barrier down. We already have Spider-Woman. We just need to break the Purple Man out and—”

“No Killgrave,” Peter said, “He’s uncontrollable.”

“Then what was the point?” Julia asked.

“What was that?” Peter growled.

“Sorry, sir. I just meant, why go to all the trouble?”

“Killgrave has a daughter,” Peter said, “Now that we know the process works, she’s finally worth acquiring.”

“Should I get everyone ready?” Julia asked.

“Elektra already did it 35 minutes ago,” Peter smiled. “We won’t be wasting any time on her, anyways. We have bigger prizes coming.”

“We’re already moving onto the next phase?” Julia asked.

“That’s right,” Peter smirked. “Tell the girls to pack everything up. We’re heading to Westchester.”  

Chapter Text

Rogue knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help herself.

The southern belle clicked the lock on her bedroom door, sealing the rest of the school outside her inner sanctuary. She didn’t waste any time bothering to close the curtain; the student curfew was in effect at night. Besides, she had to act quickly while the memories were still fresh.

Shedding her leggings and top, Rogue plopped on her bed and pulled her gloves off with her teeth. She crammed her fingers beneath her black panties, letting out a satisfied hum that reverberated up her throat. God, she was soaked. Her folds were slick, dousing the gusset of her panties like a wet washcloth. Nibbling her bottom lip, she shut her eyes and breathed deeply, drawing forth the memories she’d stolen minutes prior.

It started as an accident, a typical girl’s night out. Rogue and an array of X-Women went to a local bar to celebrate surviving another semester and another batch of students. Drawing straws to pick the designated driver, Rogue drew the shortest and pouted all night watching her friends drink to their hearts’ content. It got plenty rowdy, and the women were banned from another bar in Westchester by the end of the night. But the Southerner took plenty of pictures to tease her friends with later.

Returning to the school, the women staggered off to their bedrooms, save for Kitty Pryde. The girl was beyond wasted and Rogue scooped her up in her arms, flying her through the hallways.  

“Did I tell you I fucked Star-Lord…?” Kitty slurred, held aloft in Rogue’s arms. Shadowcat’s blouse was stained after spilling her Long Island iced tea down her front. Her short skirt had ridden even higher up her legs, showing off her toned peach-tinted legs.

“I know,” Rogue nodded, gliding up the steps with Kitty clumsily gesturing with her uncoordinated arms.

“His name is Peter… (hic)… Quill… did I tell you that?” Kitty asked. “What is it with Peters? Piotr Rasputin, Pete Wisdom, Peter Quill… the hell did all these Peters come from?”

Rogue suppressed a snicker, already scheming up ways to throw the girl’s drunken ramblings back in her face when she awoke the following morning.

“I swing the other way too…” Kitty purred, “Rachel, Illyana…” Suddenly she started sniffling, “I fucked Bobby too. You think… you think that’s what made him gay? Do I fuck that bad?”

“Naw,” Rogue shook her mane of white and chestnut hair. “I’m sure you’re a great lay, sugah.”

“Damn straight!” Kitty cried, throwing her arms out wide enough they bopped against the ceiling. She giggled, draping her head back and letting her long brunette ponytail drag beneath her. “When’s it gonna be your turn?”

“Never,” Rogue chuckled, “I ain’t on the menu.”

“Says who?” Kitty slurred, “You still holding out for Remy?”

Her relationship with Gambit had gone from complicated to difficult, of late. The Cajun refused to give up on them, even after she asked him to move on. Despite the Professor suggesting she could one day control her powers; Rogue wasn’t selfish enough to make him wait.

“Someone looks sad,” Kitty pouted, “This’ll make you feel better.”

Before the woman could react, Kitty mashed her lips against Rogue’s and shoved her tongue deep inside. Anna Marie’s eyes flew open, her mind inundated with memories and sensations that were not her own. It’d been the briefest of touches, barely a second long, but Rogue relived the foremost thought in her young friend’s mind.

Sex.

Nearly a hundred sexual partners flashed before her eyes. From the far reaches of the universe to fiery and demon-infested realms, Shadowcat had whored her way through time and space. Every mouth, every cock, every pussy, and every asshole flitted through Rogue’s head. It left her so stunned she nearly dropped the girl on the hardwood floor.

After tucking Kitty into bed, Rogue masturbated until the sun rose to the best sex of Shadowcat’s life.

She tried to pretend nothing happened the following days, but Kitty’s unrivaled lust was a drug, and she was hooked. Getting Kitty drunk became a weekly thing, then biweekly, and eventually she snuck into the girl’s room every night to seize whatever memories she wanted. Of course, it meant “stimulating” Shadowcat to make certain her dreams were full of sex, but that wasn’t an issue. Rogue already knew all the girls’ weak points.

Which brought her back to the present and her current session. The memories were still nice and warm, dripping with dopamine. It was another Illyana Rasputin one, the Russian’s pussy tasted stronger than vodka. Rogue licked her lips, pretending it was her face buried in the blonde’s cunt. She lost herself to the pleasure as she “relived” Kitty’s sexual escapades.

“Breep! Breep! Breep!”

“Wha--?” Rogue blinked, the flashing light illuminating her dark room. The hell did the Avengers need with her at this hour? Maybe if she ignored it, she could—

“Breep! Breep! Breep!”

Red lights flashed atop her nightstand as her Avengers ID card came to life.

“Shit…” Rogue grumbled, pulling her sticky fingers from her panties and swiping up the card. She didn’t give a damn what she looked like, she just tapped the video call and snapped, “What?!”

“Hello to you too,” Spider-Man chirped, his white lenses reflecting her image at her. She looked like a mess, her hair tangled and her forehead sweaty. “Somebody’s going to bed early.”

“Ya got five seconds, bug,” Rogue growled through gritted teeth.

“Okay, okay,” Spider-Man replied, “I was in the neighborhood and found a girl here who says she’s a mutant. I was hoping you could give her the whole ‘children of the atom’ speech.”

“Why not Logan?” Rogue sighed.

“She’s already scared, you really want the furball ‘snikting’ around her?”

Rogue breathed deeply. Dammit, he was right.

“Gimme your coordinates,” Rogue muttered, “I’ll fly over.”

“Thanks,” Spider-Man said, “I knew I made the right choice calling you.”

It was over before it even started.

The moment Rogue stepped inside the unlit lake house they were all over her. Fists sent her flying into kicks and those kicks had her hurdling toward fists again. The attackers took advantage of the dark, darting away before she could land a hit. How many were there? Dozens? She couldn’t even take a breath before several well-placed blows knocked her to the floor.

Even imbued with superhuman durability, the flurry of strikes kept her off balance long enough for someone to creep up behind her and latch something around her neck.

CLICK

Not again. Not those damn collars again.

A swift blow to her jaw and the darkness became even darker.

Cold.

She woke shivering, stripped of her leotard and undergarments. Gooseflesh covered her pasty skin and moisture clung to her body. The gritty concrete floor bit into her sensitive ass flesh and back. Her temples throbbed, the power-dampening device threatening to split her skull in twain.

Breath quickening, eyes wide, her large chest rose and fell. She bolted up and lunged forward, only to be snapped back by the rattle of a chain. The collar bit down hard, and she tumbled onto her ass, her meaty cheeks taking the brunt of the fall.

“Don’t do that,” a feminine voice whispered in the dark, “He doesn’t like it when we try to escape.”

Rogue coughed, tugging at the collar, her eyes searching for where the voice originated. “Who’s there?”

“Shh,” the voice responded, “keep it down. You’re an X-Man, right?” Before Rogue could reply, the voice hurried on, “I am… I was a member of Alpha Flight. Kara Killgrave, the Purple Girl. Maybe you’ve heard of me?” Rogue hadn’t. “Doesn’t matter. We need to get you out of here. The X-Men can stop him, there's still time.”

“Stop who?” Rogue rasped.

“Yeah, what’s the plan?” A deeper voice asked.

“S-Sir…” Kara stammered, “I… I was…”

THWIP!

A muffled cry emanated from the dark, and the girl silenced. But the sound was unmistakable, Rogue knew who else was hiding in the dark.

“Peter…” Rogue whispered.

“Hey, Rogue,” Peter’s voice sang, “haven’t seen you since the wedding. You look good. The choker is a nice touch.”

“The hell is wrong with you, Parker?!” Rogue snarled and pulled at the collar, “Get this damn thing off me!” She winced as she felt another wave of migraines hit her. “Y’know what these things do to me?”

“They cause the wearer pain whenever they use their powers,” Peter said, “maybe you should just… stop.”

“Come out of the dark and say that to me!” Rogue growled.

“Oh…” Peter said, “… you’re dumber than I thought. You sure you aren’t inbred?”

“What are—”

“We’re not in the dark, Rogue.”

The woman froze, no, they were in the dark. It was pitch black. She blinked, but still nothing. Was she blind? Had he blinded her? Her hands flew to her face, and she shrieked. Something slick and sticky clung to her eyes. It was thick as tar and writhed beneath her fingers.

“What is this?!” Rogue screamed.

“The same thing that’s been on me for over a year,” Peter breathed out a long and relieved sigh, “We wanted you to see this. We needed you to know.”

“No!” Her fingers clawed at it, “Get it off! Get it—”

“Anna Marie…” a deep gravelly voice echoed through her head, coming from everywhere and nowhere. Its sinister glee wriggled through her brain, “… you’ll make quite the playground…”

Peter’s voice cut through the low chuckling in her head, “You’ve been doused with enough pheromones to cut through those psychic barriers your friends put in your head. The effects should be hitting you soon.”

Before Rogue could ask, she collapsed on her back, twitching. Her pelvis humped the air as drool flowed liberally down her cheeks. Pleasure coursed through her like a lightning bolt, shooting through her nerves and rocketing to her clit and nipples. She gurgled on her saliva and her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“You like it?” the dark voice whispered in her mind. “Care to see what else we’ve done?”

“Nooooooo!” Rogue screamed.

But her cries were ignored, the veil of darkness peeled away revealing a vision. Or rather, a memory, though it was far clearer than anything she’d witnessed with her abilities. It lacked the uncertain haze and played like a perfect recording.

She heard the traffic passing outside the house, smelled the mustiness and dust in the air, and tasted the sickeningly sweet pheromones on her tongue. Rogue didn’t know how, but she knew she was in Peter’s attic. The sun turned the room into an oven, baking the bound and gagged woman. Jessica Drew panted into her ball gag; pumps milked her tits of her precious pheromones while her pussy drooled into an orange bucket at the end of the bed.

A hand that wasn’t her own unlatched the ball gag from Spider-Woman’s mouth. It plopped out and the captive wiggled her jaw. A blindfold and bindings kept her still, but the woman let out a low rasp, “Cow do good?”

“Cow did very good,” Rogue said soothingly, reaching out to stroke Jessica’s sweat-drenched head.

Wait… what was happening? She wouldn’t say that she’d never say that. These were obviously Peter’s memories, but she was reliving them with such clarity they could’ve been her own.  

“Just enjoy,” the dark voice sneered. “See what we saw. Feel what we felt. Think what we think.”

“Cow get reward?” Jessica whispered. The woman’s mind was slowly deteriorating with every day, Rogue knew that in time it would vanish entirely. She didn’t want that for Jessica, and soon she’d have enough pheromones to complete her plan. Depending on how she felt, maybe she’d stitch her mind back together. But for now, she just wanted to enjoy her stupid cattle.

“You’ve earned it,” Rogue sighed, sticking her thumb in Jessica’s mouth. Spider-Woman latched down immediately, suckling like a baby. She moaned around the finger, finally feeling something after a week without human contact. Her tongue flicked across Rogue’s finger and her mouth quivered as an orgasm rippled through her body. Another jet of pheromones shot from her cunt and splashed into the bucket. The simplest touch was enough to get her off these days.

Rogue felt herself swell in her pants, perhaps she’d indulge a little more than she planned. Just when she was about to unzip her fly, the memory vanished and she was thrown somewhere else.

The fluorescent light flickered over the cracked bathroom mirror. The air was thick with the sour musk of stale urine. The bitter scent etched itself into the grout in the tile floor and clogged the old drains. Crumpled leaves from Central Park had drifted into the public restroom and stuck to the sticky floor. Some of their mashed remains turned to muck at the bottom of the urinals.

The soles of her shoes peeled off the tacky floor as she made her way toward the furthest stall. With a steady hand, she pushed the door open and let the light flood inside. The pungent odor of fresh piss wafted from the woman collapsed inside a toilet. Her fat ass was lodged beneath the rim, with her bone-white legs dangling over the top. Urine threatened to spill over the sides, and her white pubic thatch was lost beneath the murk.

Felicia Hardy was nude, as always, and her flawless body was soaked with piss. Her ivory hair had turned a dark and sickly amber, her pointed domino mask peeled off her stained face, and several cigarette butts were lying on her massive tits. She weakly looked up, lower jaw hanging open from exhaustion, with globs of soupy cum dripping down her chin.

“Th-they had fun…” Black Cat groaned, her cherry lips attempting to smile. “Thirty-eight of them… I didn’t cum… like you asked…” Her lower lip trembled, and she whined, “It’s been so long since you played with me… please?”

“Oh, poor girl,” the mutant said, leaning forward just out of reach, “you’ve been so needy, haven’t you?”

Felica pitifully nodded.

“What are you?” the X-Man asked.

“I’m a worthless piss mop,” Felicia whimpered, “I don’t have feelings, wants, or rights. My mouth is yours; my ass is yours, but my cunt is off limits to everyone…” Tears spilled from her eyes, dribbling in her tits. “… even me.”

“Good,” Rogue said, “now stop lazing around and get your ass back in the basement. I’ll give you a cucumber so you can fuck your ass tonight.”

Felicia nearly wept with joy, “Th-thank you, sir! Thank you!”

“Wait,” Rogue barked, “Open for one more.”

Felicia swallowed what remained in her maw, her throat bulging, before opening and sticking out her tongue. Unzipping her fly, Rogue pulled out her swelling cock and pointed it at the bitch’s face. With a sneer, she grunted, “What are you good for?”

“Nothing,” Black Cat uttered, before sticking out her pink tongue again.

“Good girl,” Rogue hissed, relaxing her muscles and letting her stream go.

The scene changed.

“NO!” Rogue screamed, slamming her fists against the ground.

“Did you want to see the rest?” the dark voice mockingly chuckled.

“N-no,” she stammered, “that was… it was awful…”

“Then you’ll hate what’s next…”

Even in the dead of the night, the metallic creaking of the swing set could still be heard over the constant flow of traffic. The playground was abandoned at this time of night, not even the homeless were in the area. Anyone within eyesight had been steered away by Hand assassins hiding within the shadows. All so Elektra could have some playtime with her Daddy.

The ebony-haired assassin stood at the top of the slide; her hair done up in pigtails. Her large breasts stuck out of each side of the overalls two sizes too small. The crotch had been torn away, revealing her even furrier snatch. It stuck out like a dark bunny tail.

“Say it,” Rogue smiled, looking up at the woman.

“W-watch me, Daddy,” Elektra snarled, her voice dead and her eyes narrowed. She plopped her fat ass down on the metal, before sending herself down the short slide. She grimaced, and Rogue saw the smear of arousal left in her wake.

“Uh-oh,” Rogue snickered, “Did somebody have an accident?”

“No,” Elektra’s cheeks turned a deep crimson hue. “Don’t look at it!”

“C’mere, little Elektra,” Rogue beckoned the woman over.

The assassin clomped toward her, her pink sneakers crunching pebbles. She stopped right before Rogue, looking up at her with dark eyes.

“Tell me what happened,” Rogue sang.

“I… I made a mess,” Elektra pouted. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl,” Rogue patted between her pigtails. “Now we need to plug that leaky pussy up, don’t we?”

Elektra’s eyes widened and a genuine smile crossed her face. “Yes, Daddy!”

“Go over to the jungle gym,” Rogue ordered, and Elektra scurried to the lime-green structure, wrapping her fingers around the bars and sticking her chubby ass out. Rogue meandered behind her, making Elektra wait, only coming close when she heard the woman whining with anticipation.

Without any hesitation, Elektra begged, “Please, Daddy! Please plug up my leaky cunny.”

“Such a good girl,” Rogue fished out her cock, gripping the base. She was already hard, her thick rod twitching. She dragged the fat head over Elektra’s furry cunt, tickled by the woman’s unkempt bush. With several thwacks, she patted the woman’s folds, collecting her steamy juices. God, she was wet. It had been a while since they last had a playdate. She was already moaning like a whore, plowing into her would be like sliding through butter.

“Please, Daddy…” Elektra whimpered, “… I can’t wait any longer.”

“You won’t have to,” Rogue promised, and plunged her—

The scene went black.

“NOOOOO!” Rogue screamed, humping the air wildly. “No! No! No! NO!”

“What do you want, Anna Marie?” the voice seethed.

“I-I…” Rogue swallowed; her throat parched. “I wanna see the rest!”

“Why?”

“To…”

“Go ahead,” the voice sneered, “Say it.”

“To put them bitches in their place!” Rogue screamed, “To fuck them until they cry! To break them and make them mine forever!”

Whether it was the pheromones or the memories, it didn’t really matter. Rogue had accepted it. She’d been ruined by the voice in her head. But she wanted to ruin others too.

The scene changed to a brightly lit garage. A tower of tires sat near the door beside a few red canisters of gasoline. Sprawled out on the floor was a woman. All her milky flesh was visible, her large tits heaving and her bottom sitting in a puddle of her glistening juices. Her puffy pink nipples stood out like thumbtacks and her erect clit throbbed obscenely. The woman was a whore, writhing around, her brunette hair and white stripe drenched in sweat, her eyes covered by a tar-black—

Oh god… it was her. Right now. Which meant Peter was standing over her.

“Ready?” Rogue/Peter asked.

She experienced it all through Peter’s eyes, fingers gripping her helpless body like it was a sweaty ragdoll. She cradled the womanly form, the wild-haired cum sock draped back and moaning in her arms. Its soft tits jutted from its body, perky and milky white. Rogue dove into them, biting the nipples and mauling the bountiful flesh. It tasted salty, with a hint of body butter. But the simple flavor wasn’t satisfactory.

Rogue slammed her body against the tower of tires, those fat meaty tits mashed into the rubber. The seemingly mindless form suddenly had life breathed into it. As if through instinct alone, her body thrust its ass out as Elektra had, nothing more than a barnyard cat with its tail held high.

Running her fingers over those juicy cheeks, Rogue hungrily grasped two handfuls of her body’s ass. Thick and heavy, she dug her nails into them to hear her abused form squeal. Her hands went lower, finding the whore’s inner thighs glazed with sticky love. Rogue gave the mindless bitch a quick slap on its plump and puffy lips.

“You like this, don’t you?” Rogue seethed, feeling the rage and lust building in her muscular chest. “You need this. This is who you are… a living sleeve to keep my dick warm.”

Inside Peter’s head, Rogue swelled with rage. She wanted him to do it. To fuck her body up. To make it scream and beg and cry. That cum bucket had been flaunting its tits and ass since it was sixteen. It was about time someone put it in its damn place.

Rogue didn’t give her body time to brace itself, she plundered its sopping cunt. It stretched to accommodate her girth, the wet tightness gripping her like a vice. Her body responded violently, its spine arching, and its curly mane thrown back. The whore was enjoying it, the filthy slut. It already knew its place.

Plunging deep into the steamy pussy, their wet flesh slapped together.

PLAP

God, how she loved that sound. The sound of claiming someone as her own. She ground against those hefty slabs of southern meat, dragging them as far back as she could. Her body was warm, wet, and inviting. It was tighter than most, having lacked partners, but this was also the largest cock her inexperienced pussy had taken. Her body cooed and writhed, winced and shuddered, lost between pleasure and pain.

The gooey channel squelched as Rogue drew herself out, leaving the head inside. The cool air felt refreshing on her dripping shaft, and she savored the simultaneous heat and cold. She felt like a beast claiming her prize, holding her body’s pleasure hostage. That’s when the whore’s hand snaked between its legs to diddle its swollen clit.

“You stupid bitch!” Rogue screamed, grabbing the back of its collar. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”

Her body whimpered and pulled its hand away, but Rogue’s anger didn’t die. She had to teach it a lesson, pummel the snatch until it learned where it belonged. Rogue violently thrust back in, sending shrieks through her body’s throat, before yanking back out only to dive in again.

PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP

“Ennnnngh!” Her body grunted beneath the blindingly fast thrusting, flesh bouncing wildly. It wasn’t enough, she needed that stupid piece of meat to feel it tomorrow morning. To wince when sitting down and hobble while walking. It had to remember what it was good for and apologize for what it wasn’t.

God, her hole was like velvet, her channel smooth as honey. The southern skank had a snug cunt, that much she’d admit, with juices liberally plopped on the floor beneath them. The bitch could slurp its mess off the floor when they were done. Her body was close to cumming, Rogue knew the telltale signs. Its moans were getting higher, its thighs were quivering, and the inner walls gently squeezed her dick. It was readying to clamp down and milk her cock like a breeding mare.

She would’ve killed to draw her pleasure out longer, but time was of the essence, and her body’s cunt was nice and warm. Sealing her hands around the narrow waist, Rogue thrust in while slamming her body back down.

PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP!!!

Her body squealed, squirt blasting across the floor and dousing its legs. Its silk-like muscles squeezed her cock, coaxing the cum from her balls. Rogue roared, spittle flying from her mouth and spraying the back of her body. Her balls tightened and fresh cream surged up her shaft before spraying deep inside. Rogue didn’t stop humping, thick and gooey seed squeezing past their joining and dribbling to the concrete. Wadding up some spit, she spat onto her the white stripe.

She knew she’d be sent back to her body. She knew the pain she’d feel. But she didn’t care.

The bitch deserved it.

When Peter was done briefing Anya, Gwen, and Cindy about their next move, he returned to the lake house’s garage. His hypothesis had been correct, Rogue could harbor a portion of the symbiote without being driven mad. It likely had to do with her housing so many personalities, memories, and minds at the same time. Part of him was glad the mutant didn’t end up a mindless body, humping the nearest tree as it tried to sate the unending lust. Another part was disappointed he wouldn’t see that.

He stopped at the door to the garage. What was he becoming? When would it stop?

“When our job is finished,” the symbiote hissed in his ear. “When we can finally rest.”

“When will that be?” Peter whispered.

“Soon,” the symbiote reassured, “once the mutants are ours, it will be soon.”

“Am I… broken?” Peter asked.

“We are broken,” the symbiote corrected him, “But we will fix everything.”

He knew it was better than to argue, he’d fought back enough since it latched onto him. He pushed open the garage door and stepped into another scene of debauchery.

Rogue had helped herself to the Purple Girl. The violet-skinned girl was still gagged with webbing. Kara hadn’t been able to utter a whimper. Despite the portion of the symbiote returned to him, Rogue was still drooling like a horny animal as she nibbled on the other prisoner’s small breasts. Whatever else Rogue had done; it’d made Kara wet herself in fright.

“Rogue,” Peter said.

The mutant spun around, her hands leaving the Purple Girl’s tits. They were marred with bite marks and the nipples were swollen. She smiled dopily up at her master, left hand playing with herself. Her lips were red and puffy, but once they took the collar off, she’d heal before morning.

“Can I keep her, sir,” Rogue licked her lips, eyeing the Purple Girl hungrily.

“You could,” Peter nodded, “Or you could go for a better model.”

Through the hive mind, he’d seen what Rogue really wanted. What she’d craved for years but knew she could never have. At least, until now.

“Kitty Pryde…” Rogue purred happily.

“You can have her,” Peter smiled, “All you need to do is bring me one person.”

“Anyone,” Rogue grinned.

“I need a better model too,” he grinned, finally ready to be rid of Julia and her inadequacy as a telepath, “I need Jean Grey.”

Chapter Text

Cold.

There were very few times in the many lives of Jean Grey when she felt this bitter and unforgiving cold. Not even the furthest reaches of space had infected her with this terrible chill. Numbness wouldn’t only have been welcome; it would’ve been a mercy. Despite all her years of heroism, the only time she’d ever felt this petrifying sensation was the second before her deaths.

But she’d been on this brink for nearly two hours.

The scarlet-maned mutant stared blankly up at the faceless mask of the man above her. No, this wasn’t a man. This was a monster. An unhinged and maniacal beast that had abducted her, caged her, and now ravaged her for all she was worth. Her bountiful teardrop-shaped breasts jiggled as he took her, his length impaling her spasming depths. Her pink areola and darker nipples ground against his suit. They hardened at his cold touch, the iciness turning them into little bullets.

His pace was inhuman, viciously claiming her deepest and most sacred spots. He used her, not like a gift she bestowed or even a prize he’d won. He used her like she was less than nothing. She could sense it in her mind; he wasn’t even present while he took her. Peter Parker’s thoughts were miles away.

Her arms stretched out on the mattress, spread like a bird’s wings. Her scarlet hair lay around her head, messy, and her mouth gaped open as she took shuddering breaths. Her long, slender legs wrapped around his waist, burning from the cold. But she couldn’t let go. He wouldn’t let her.

He just kept using her.

Robbing her.

Smothering the cry of The Phoenix.

Earlier that Day:

Dirty. That’s how she felt. She traveled the back alleys of a nearby town and hid her identity within the confines of a gray trench coat and blue ball cap. Disguising herself was nothing new to the seasoned superhero, but acting like some weird sex criminal was a whole other experience. But there was some truth to her feelings, as much as she despised admitting it because she was meeting someone behind a warehouse to get porn.

Sliding down a dark alley, Jean expanded her telepathic awareness. She could sense every living animal and person in the surrounding area. While the Phoenix had abandoned her years ago, the embers still burned within her, and occasionally, she could still sense its power. But not today. It lay quiet today, leaving her feeling blind. The redhead didn’t know what to expect. Part of her hoped this was a trap because it would simplify the situation rather than the harsh reality of it all.

But no, besides a few homeless people and a variety of street dogs, the district was quiet. Whether it was unnaturally calm, she couldn’t tell. This was far from where she was used to traveling. Her ignorance of the towns surrounding the school embarrassed her. The last time she ventured out this far was when she, Scott, Bobby, Hank, and Warren were still kids. She made a note to venture out more and not remain tied to the school. She was losing reasons to stay at Xavier’s anyway.

“Oh my God! You’re here!” a high-pitched squeal rang out from above her.

Jean’s neck craned back, and she staggered in alarm. Looming on a rooftop, outlined by the morning sun, were two dark silhouettes. One was slight and girlish, with slender proportions and a high ponytail. The other was taller, womanly, with hair draped around her ears. The light caught on a bit of her red lenses, poking out from either side of her face.

Why didn’t she sense them?

Jean silently rose off the ground, summoning the boundless depths of her telekinetic abilities. Loose leaves and dirt were undisturbed as she climbed upwards until she was at eye level with the two women. The smaller one wore a black leotard with a white spider emblem wrapped around her body. Her skin was tan, and her white grin was broad. The other, a ghostly pale woman with stark red hair, dug her hands into her crimson trench coat’s pockets.

“You’re wondering why you couldn’t sense us,” the taller woman smirked, “I’m Julia Carpenter. I’m a telepath, though not as gifted as you. But I know enough to block you from digging around in our heads.”

“Don’t be like that!” the younger girl shooed Julia playfully, “This is Jean Grey! She’d never do anything to us.” The girl’s white lenses seemingly sparkled with wonder. “I know all about you, Ms. Grey! I had a poster of you when I was six!”

“Oh…” Jean’s thin cheeks paled. God, she felt old. “… well, it’s a pleasure to meet you…”

“Anya!” The girl seized Jean’s hand, gripping it tightly and vigorously shaking it. “I won’t do codenames. I know we can trust you.”

“That's why I’m here,” Julia stepped forward, “I wanted to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid, like giving her name away.”

“It’s fine,” Jean smiled, the color coming back to her face, “And I don’t mean to rush you, but you contacted me about pictures?”

“Oh…” Anya pulled her hand away. “Um… right. Julia?”

Julia Carpenter pulled a phone from her pocket, handing it to the telepath. Jean still couldn’t sense anything from the two, but she took it without hesitation. Flipping it over, she looked down at the little black screen. Tapping a button on the side, it lit up, and Jean’s face drained again.

Emma Frost lay naked, spread out across a large and luxurious bed. The silk sheets shimmered in the light, though they were nowhere near as pale and flawless as her skin tone. Her platinum blonde hair was perfect, her breasts firm without a hint of sag, and her landing strip trimmed immaculately. The pearly cream dripping from her lower lip was the only thing out of place. Fresh from Emma’s husband’s cock.

Swiping, Jean Grey’s heart ached upon seeing her ex-husband at the foot of the bed. Emma lay on her stomach, giant tits mashed into the bedding, with her lips wrapped around his length. Scott’s fingers wove through her hair, gripping it with strong hands. Hands that had once belonged to Jean, that had held her close. The redhead swallowed a lump in her throat but pressed on.

Picture after picture of Scott and Emma flashed across the screen. Dozens of them in various positions. Emma posing perfectly in all of them. By the time Jean saw the blonde penetrated by Scott’s cock, mouth open in pure ecstasy, she’d had enough.

“Where did you get these?” Jean asked.

“Anti-mutant hate group,” Julia said, “Purifiers. They planned on dispersing them across New York. You’re welcome.”

“How would they even do that?” Jean asked, “Stark’s algorithm wipes photos like these off anything with a wire.”

“Printers,” Julia raised her eyebrow, “Old school. You have a lot of enemies.”

“Well… thank you,” Jean said, “This is the only copy?”

“We scrubbed the rest,” Anya preened. “Sorry to make you come out here; I just… I really wanted to meet you.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jean said, “Thank you for doing this. The X-Men appreciate it.”

“Are you alright?” Anya asked, frowning for the first time since their encounter, “You look upset.”

Upset? What an understatement. Jean was devastated. The way Scott looked in the photos. The pleasure on his face had once belonged to her. She’d thought only she could elicit that response. But no, that slut Emma had not only claimed her spot, but she feared the blonde had surpassed her too.

Even worse, humiliating as it was to admit, she felt… damp. Hot and damp.

“I-I’m fine,” Jean forced a smile. “So… you wanted to get coffee?”

“Too late to add a fourth, sugar?”

Again, Jean was caught unaware.

Spinning around, a hand shot out and gripped Jean’s face.

Jean’s scream died in her mouth before it all went black.

Time passed differently, trapped in the rotting hotel. They’d tossed Jean on a stained mattress and stripped her of everything. She drifted in and out of consciousness, too weak to even summon a paperclip towards herself. Whenever she felt a hint of strength, Rogue would sense it and lay her bare hand on the redhead’s breast. Her green eyes would fly open, her heart would seize, and she could feel her energy and life force drain into the buxom southern belle towering over her.

It shouldn’t have been possible. Rogue had sapped her before, and it never affected her this much. It never left her this cold, despondent, or utterly drained. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

But she’d have the last laugh.

The dying embers of the Phoenix had begun to rekindle.

The door to the hotel room opened, and Spider-Man entered again. Summoning whatever she had left, she lifted her head off the sweat-soaked bed, chin tucked down. Between the valley of her breasts, she watched the monster slink inside. He might've blended into the shadows if the white spider emblem wasn’t so prominent. Whatever that black suit was, it wasn’t normal. It felt… alien.

“Oh, you’re awake,” though he kept the mask pulled over his face, she knew it was Peter. She’d been invited to his wedding and watched him dance with the bride. While they weren’t close, most heroes knew who Spider-Man was when he revealed it to them more than a year ago. It was shocking, but they all felt honored. He trusted them, and in turn, they trusted him. Was that their mistake?

“Whhhhy…” Jean rasped.

“I need a telepath,” Peter strode around the bed, his footsteps so silent she’d swear he was a ghost. “A strong one. Julia isn’t enough anymore. She could barely hide Rogue from you. But even she admitted if we hadn’t thrown you with those photos, she would’ve failed.”

He stared down at her naked form; she could barely hear the filthy thoughts whispering in his mind.

“Y’know what? I’ve been extra good today. Let’s see how that mouth is doing.”

The supposed hero wove his fingers through her scarlet hair, and with a sharp tug, he dragged her head toward the side of the bed. Her cheek scraped against the rough mattress, pulled through stains and grit. Not until her face was level with his bulge did he stop. With shallow breath, her eyes struggled to focus on the man.

Peter didn’t say anything; he just pulled his suit down and released himself from its confines. No matter how many times he’d done it, she still regarded his manhood with fear. It wasn’t just because he was big; she’d taken big before. It was how he used it. Or rather, how he used her.  

The shaft slapped Jean in the face, landing on her flawless skin. She let out a small sob as he dragged it over her nose and around her eyes. He smelled musky, like a man, and she hated how used to him she was by now. Gripping his shaft, Peter plopped it against her full lips, pressing it forward. Her tongue touched his head, and she tasted the salty precum leaking from his tip.

Like everything else about him, he was cold, searing her tongue with ice. But too weak to even struggle, Jean could only let her jaw go slack as he pushed past her lips, over her tongue, and prodded her tonsils. She didn’t even have the strength to gag. Peter eased his way into her wet maw, feeding inch after inch of himself past her lips.

Despite his hardness, he didn’t twitch with pleasure. This was a show of dominance. He owned this mouth like he owned her pussy. He could do whatever he pleased with her, but there was nothing she could do. Jean’s tongue dragged along his underside, her eyes still staring into his large white lenses, pleading for him to stop.

“You’re miserable; I get it,” Peter said, “but I just don’t care.”

Sawing in and out of her mouth, wet sloppy noises reverberated through the room. Jean’s lips pulled back and forth, stretched around his member. He’d pushed down her throat, clogging her airway with his manhood and stuffing her full. Breathing weakly through her nose, he fucked her face with no regard. She was his property, used only for his pleasure.

Further he thrust, up until his groin mashed against her nose. But he didn’t pull back. He held it there. Keeping her locked against his cock. Nostrils flattened; Jean’s emerald eyes bulged. Her airway sealed. Her chest tightened as her lungs began to panic. Drowning on his cock, Jean let out a weak gag.

gelluuuuuk

“What was that?” Peter asked.

Gulllllkkkkkkkk

“I can’t hear you,” he taunted.

GUUUUUUULLLLLEEEK!

Peter ripped free of her throat, and Jean spewed spit on the floor. With a shuddering gasp, her lungs filled with the dank air. But it was air, nonetheless, and she drank it in. It didn’t matter how badly her tongue tasted of precum or how her breath must’ve smelled like cock. She was just thankful to breathe again.

He wiped his dick on her hair, leaving a smear of her spit and his glistening cream. It was his favorite place to clean himself off, and her beautiful ruby locks were now crusty with filth.

“No more…” Jean gasped. “You fucking… Purifier.”

“What?” Peter asked; she could hear the bemusement in his voice. “We’re well beyond that lie. Those pictures were mine. It's just some dirt I’ve collected over the year. I knew it’d be useful to lure some of you out. In fact, I’m working on something that’ll shake the whole hero community. How do you think the public would take it if I released thousands of explicit images and videos of Earth’s Mightiest doing the dirty?”

Jean's breath hitched.

“They’d track it back to me in an instant. No, less than an instant. Which is why I need some insurance.”

Jean flinched; Peter’s fingers dragged along her bare leg, gooseflesh rippling across her skin. His touch was inhumanly cold, leaving a red mark along her pale epidermis. She would’ve shivered, but her body lay still like a lump.

“I need the X-Men. And you’re going to give them to me.”

A dry, raspy chuckle scraped itself from Jean’s throat. “I’ll never help you.”

It was Peter’s turn to chuckle. But that chuckle turned into a laugh. A laugh void of joy, emotion, or even humanity. With the paltry amount of power she retained, she sensed nothing from within the man. Just a void of dark, inky blackness. Jean’s blood ran cold, and a large toothy grin spread over the black mask; pearly white fangs were sharp as needles.

That was the cold. The icy blackness. He’d forced it inside her.

“Oh Jean,” its dark and mangled voice sneered, “I don’t need you. I need your powers.”

“You can try,” Jean hissed.

“Such bravado,” the monster flashed a toothy grin. “Is that because what’s left of that little bird is waking up?”

Jean swallowed.

“I’ve read about you, your uncontrolled power housed within this lovely body,” the monster stroked her breast, “I can feel its love for you.”

“You can’t stop it,” Jean warned, “It’ll burn right through you.”

“No,” the monster shook its head, “You misunderstand. It loves you. Jean Grey. So, what if we removed everything in that head that makes you, you? Would it even want you anymore? Or would whatever’s left of it abandon you too?”

The door opened again, and a naked Rogue stood in the doorway. Jean could feel her twisted and perverted desires. Peter had warped her, broken her, and turned her into something ugly. But when the telepath felt the whispers of the plan seep from Rogue’s mind, her jaw fell.

Like she’d done with Carol Danvers years ago, Rogue would drain her of everything she was.

“No…” Jean breathed. “Please… Peter…”

“We love them red and fiery,” the monster stroked Jean’s hair. “Our redhead broke too soon. Try and keep yourself together a little longer.”

“Peter…” Jean whispered.

In a flash, the teeth disappeared, and the mask was back to normal.

“Sorry, my mind's made up,” he said.

“I can be useful…” Jean pleaded, “I can help you.”

“No, you won’t,” Peter said, “And you’re too unpredictable to keep unchecked. I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s time to push the bird out of the nest.”

“No…”

But Peter had already retaken his place between her legs. Still spread open, he dragged his thick fingers over her delicate and sensitive folds. At this, Jean shuddered, feeling his cold touch brush her clit. He held his fingers up, showing her strands of arousal stretched between them.

“It looks like you started without me,” Peter quipped, though his voice had no joy. It was hollow and cold like the rest of him. “Julia’s done a good job cleaning you out, but this next one will be more permanent.”

“Permanent?” Jean whimpered.

Peter didn’t answer; he just dragged himself over her entrance. Jean’s lips felt slick as he glided his head over her folds. With two little slaps on her little nub, she squeaked. Peter circled her clit with his tip, drawing out an unwanted moan from the woman. She hated how good he was at the start, how perfectly he attuned to her body. Days of this torture had left her sensitive, almost eager to feel anything besides the cold.

He toyed with her, dragging out her pleasure, and Jean finally laid her head back on the bed and moaned in despair. She was going to cum already. Cum from something cold and icy. Was she that easy?

She yipped as he struck her clit with his cock.

“What’s she thinking, Rogue?” Peter asked, “Narrate for me.”

“She’s thinking about how good you are,” Rogue smirked, tweaking her nipples as she sauntered into the room. “She’s thinking about how deep you fill her and how much better you are than anyone she’s ever been with.”

“Is that so?” Peter asked.

“No,” Jean gasped.

“She wants you to put it inside.”

“No.”

“She wants you to fuck her hard and fast.”

“No,” Jean’s tear slipped down her cheek and fell on the bed.

“She hates you so much but hates herself for loving this more,” Rogue snickered.

Was it true? She couldn’t tell anymore. Her brain was foggy, covered in a haze of lust. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want what they had planned for her and her friends. But some sick part of her wanted to feel good. Had Rogue dug deep for that truth? Or was it somewhere on the surface this whole time?

She didn’t have time to think. Peter rammed the head between her lips, holding it just within her entrance.

“Ennnh!” Jean grunted; her tits jostled beneath the force of his thrusting. But she lacked the energy for anything else.

“C’mon,” Peter hissed, “I’m not here to fuck Jean Grey.” He gripped her nipple, twisting it hard. Jean let out a little mewl of pain. “Show me something!” Peter’s hand found her clit, pinching it, tugging it like a chew toy. “Show me some fire!”

A fresh flood of euphoria overtook her. Only this time, it was warm. No, hot. It was burning hot. Jean gasped, life flooding through her body. Her chest rose, and the color returned to her white cheeks.

It was fire.

It was life incarnate.

It was The Phoenix.

“There you are…” Peter seethed.

Jean lifted her head, strength flooding through her. She could hear the world in her mind and feel the presence of billions at her beck and call. All she had to do was reach out and touch Peter, destroy his mind, and shred it with her fiery talons.

Peter plunged the rest of his way into her burning cunt.

“OHHHHH!” Jean gasped. The fire in her eyes waned. What was this? What was happening? The life inside of her was touched by hunger. Greed. Darkness. “No!”

Peter dragged her thighs over the side of the bed. The redhead dug her nails into the mattress, but Peter still yanked her down on his length. She screamed, feeling his cock plunged deep into her core. Ice met fire, and she was drowning in steam. Jean let out a strangled cry as Peter started a slow rhythm. The woman’s back arched, her tits jutting out.

With unbelievable strength, he lifted Jean into the air, and the woman instinctively wrapped her legs around him. Her athletic abdominals rippled as she pulled herself up, digging her claws into his shoulders. If it hurt him, he didn’t show it. He just held her up off his dick before slamming her back down. Jean cried out; her entire weight was brought hard against his cock.

The room began to shake as Jean mentally stepped back, allowing the Phoenix to assert control. Her eyes glared down into Peter’s white lenses, lips curled back in a snarl.

“Jean is not yours to take!” The Phoenix roared through her throat. “She is a goddess!”

“Then why is she pushing up off my shoulders?” Peter asked. “Why are her legs still hugging me?”

“She… I…” Jean’s eyes dimmed, “You…”

“She’s no goddess,” Peter snapped back at the entity weakening in Jean’s body, and suddenly, he took her to the wall, slamming her back against it. “She’s Jean Grey. The X-Men’s famous cuckquean.”

“No!” the Phoenix hissed. “She’s—”

Using his new leverage, Peter began pounding into her pussy. His long shaft slid quickly through her svelte canal. Her ass cheeks clapped as he fucked her like a whore in a brothel. Her tits pressed flat against his chest, her legs still wrapped around his waist, and her mouth opened in a loud and guttural groan.

PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!

That sound. That rhythmic and wet sound. Her juices drenched his cock and glazed her ass, mixed with his sticky precum. That life force inside her began to waver as pleasure erupted in her core. She was closing in on a beautiful and unbelievable climax.

Inside, the Phoenix demanded her to fight back.

But he was too good, too fast, and too deep. Jean was thrown into the forefront of her mind, ecstasy rocketing through her and penetrating her molten core. Pleasure burned through her, lighting her up and searing her clit.

“You’re every mutant’s wet dream!” Peter laughed.

“No!” Jean cried.

“You’re the token slut. I bet the Professor just took you in for the eye candy!”

“No!”

“How many X-Men have you fucked? Or better yet, how many have thought of fucking you?”

Suddenly, Rogue assaulted Jean’s mind with all the darkest and filthiest thoughts her friends had ever had of her.

She saw Scott spanking her as she begged for forgiveness, pleading to be his sidepiece. She wept into the blankets of her childhood room; her plaid skirt pulled up over her bare and red ass.

She saw Logan throwing her up against a tree; her tits mashed against the rough bark. He rutted her like an animal, making her howl at the moon as she bathed his legs with her squirt.

She saw Emma standing over her, a collar around her neck. The White Queen snapped her leash, dragging Jean closer to her dripping quim. The redhead screamed and begged for mercy, but Emma only laughed as she eventually succumbed and licked her juicy cunt.

She saw Charles sitting in his wheelchair as she bounced up and down on his cock. Her tits bobbed as she called out his name. Her pussy squeezed around his member as she came again and again with growing intensity.

She saw Kurt fucking her on the ceiling. Hank reaming her in the lab. Piotr and Kitty double teaming her. Everyone. She saw everyone. All of her friends wanted to fuck her holes, smear her with their cum, and leave her begging for more.

She wasn’t a goddess.

She was an object.

“No more!” Jean screamed. “No more!”

Her mind lost in the lust of her loved ones, Jean let out a high-pitched shriek as she came. Her pussy clamped down around Peter’s cock, squeezing him for all she was worth. Her juices bathed his legs, her eyes rolled back, and her mouth gaped open.

“I’M CUMMMMMMING!” Jean howled.

Peter slammed into her one last time. His cock spewed his sticky cream deep into her snatch. Pulse after pulse of cum riddled Jean’s hole, flooding over and spilling out of her cunt.

The sudden heat of life burned bright around her loins as she rose to another orgasm. Her screams had turned to high-pitched wails as climax after climax shook her core. She was like a dying star, imploding under the weight of so much ecstasy. Drool spilled down her lips and dribbled onto her chest.

As the embers inside her burned bright, she distantly heard Peter say, “Now!”

Suddenly, her mouth was encompassed by another. A tongue ravaged her own, swirled inside her maw, lips pressed against lips. Jean leaned into the kiss, hungrily devouring the eager mouth. Or at least, that’s what she intended. The mouth fought back, sapping the heat from her body. Jean tried to push the person away, screaming into the lips around her own.

The sticky cum inside her kept pumping, dousing her embers and putting out her flames. Two fingers pinched her clit, and Jean wept into his mouth as she was rocked by her final orgasm as Jean Grey. While her cunt flooded the floor, her mind emptied all her memories, feeding the person kissing her so deeply.

She was losing herself. Her power. Her energy.

Her eyes flashed open.

Rogue winked at her.

In her last thoughts as herself, Jean heard a familiar voice.

“You were not the host I thought you were.”

The Phoenix flapped away.  

She opened her eyes.

She was somewhere.

She was someone.

But—

“Hello,” a man sat on the edge of the bed. He wore a funny red and blue outfit. He had brown hair and a nice smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Guh… guh…”

What word was she trying to say? Was it even a word? Or was she making noises?

“I know,” the man sighed, “Thinking is so hard. So how about I do it for you?”

That sounded nice. Thinking was tough.

“Your name is Pretty,” the man said, “Because you’re that and nothing else.”

Pretty. Pretty sounded nice.

“Peh… Peh…”

“You’ll get it eventually,” the man grinned, “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

The powerful woman who’d been Jean Grey giggled on the edge of the bed, clapping her hands frantically as Anya made shadow puppets on the wall. Her large breasts bounced up and down as she tried to snatch the shadows with her clumsy fingers.

The redhead was powerless. Rogue had taken everything from her, as she’d once done to Carol Danvers. The Phoenix Force had fled a host that was no longer there. Jean, or Pretty, might still be trouble later, but for now, she was docile as a kitten.

“Rogue?” Peter gestured the southern belle over to him. The woman happily bounded over, massive tits bobbing as she did. “Is Jean in your head?”

“She’s screaming,” Rogue giggled, “But she ain’t going nowhere. Steady dose of pheromones is keeping her nice and quiet. But I’ve got all the skills and none of the side effects. There ain’t nothing that’s gonna stop what’s next, sir.”

“And you made the call?”

“Yeah,” Rogue beamed, “They all think I’m taking Jean on a vacation to ease that broken heart. Scott was very concerned. Emma less so.”

“No, Pretty!” Anya laughed, “Don’t eat the condoms. You drink them like this.”

“You wanna play with Pretty a little longer?” Rogue asked, “I wouldn’t mind seeing her ‘first time’.”

“No. Three days is long enough,” Peter smiled beneath his mask. “Why don’t I take you two girls back to school?”

Chapter Text

“Wh-where am I?” a man asked.

“Shush, handsome. Everything’s gonna be fine now.” A woman spoke.

“R-Rogue? Where am I? I can’t move. I can’t see.”

“Don’t need to fret about that…”

“Something’s wrong. I can’t use my—"

“Everything is gonna be okay.”

“Why does my head hurt?”

“Let me kiss it and make it better.”

“Ro—"

“Mmmmmmm.”

The kiss was long, deep, and sensual.

Jamie Madrox, the Multiple Man, slipped back into dreamland.

KA-THOOOOOOM!!!

Shards of glass scattered across the classroom floor, raining down on panicking students. The reinforced brick-and-mortar walls barely withstood the sudden and thunderous shockwave, but they did what they’d been designed to do. Emma Frost didn’t pretend to know the specialized alloy Forge and Beast had manufactured; she only wished they’d created something similar for the windows.

“Calm down,” Emma lazily lifted her slender arms and gestured toward the classroom door. “Don’t act like we haven’t done this every other week. Go to the nearest safe room. Youngest students first.”

It was likely nothing, another spat between students, or perhaps Piotr had thrown Logan at the wall again. Still, she shirked off her white silk blazer and carefully draped it over the back of the nearest chair. Despite her blasé demeanor, she’d be profoundly annoyed if this attack was real and she got blood on her outfit.

Shepherding the students past rows of desks, Emma guided them out into the hall where the older students had already taken charge. The pink-haired Pixie and green-skinned Anole barked orders, beckoning the thrones of terrified students down the hall and toward the lower levels. Emma attempted to reach out to them, accessing her psychic powers was second nature, only to find herself smacked against a psychic barrier. No, it's not a barrier, a dead zone. Like a nebulous void, absent of thought.

“What…” Emma prodded the soupy fog; it was like trying to swim through gravy. Something, or someone, was turning the frenzied and swirling torrent of minds into nothing more than a slurry. At best, she could sense the dimmest whispers of panic coming from outside. It filled her with an overwhelming aura of dread.

Pushing through the crowds of students, Emma fought her way down the corridor toward the grand foyer. The chandelier swung back and forth, still rattled by the sudden tremor that’d rocked the school. Rounding toward the front door, she trotted up to the entrance in high-heeled boots.

The doors nearly burst off their hinges as the steel body of their resident Goliath crashed through. Piotr Rasputin sailed through the foyer before smashing through the wall and taking out a good chunk of the stairs. She held her breath, waiting, but he didn’t get back up.

SHHHHHRRAAAAAAKKKKK

“Scott!” Emma rushed toward the door, her husband’s blasts snapping her back to reality. But a figure already stood in the entrance.

Naked as the day she was born, Rogue loomed in the doorway. Her pale body was unmarked; her chestnut hair wasn’t even ruffled, and not even a bead of sweat was on her face.

“Rogue, what’s going—”

Another naked Rogue stepped from around the corner. Followed by another. And another.

Their bodies transformed into organic metal.

Their eyes glowed red.

Psychic knives emerged from their fists.

And they smiled.

“Oh my God,” Emma backed away.

“We’re just getting started, sugah,” one of the Rogues snickered.

A hand touched the back of Emma’s neck, and everything went black.

Black grime etched itself into the rust, merging into a rough but wet texture. The walls seemed to drool filth, viscous sludge pooling around heaps of charcoal-colored plastic. Roaches scuttled out of loosely tied bags the moment Emma’s weight shifted. The sour scent of curdling trash seeped into her nostrils and open mouth, leaving a rotten taste on her tongue. But that didn’t stop her from screaming or beating her small fists against the metal side.

Emma Frost was sealed within a dumpster.

THOOOM THOOOM THOOOM

Her balled-up hands sent echoes through her little enclosure. If it weren’t for her damned collar, she’d bash a hole in the side with her diamond form. But with her powers negated, she could barely tear a hole in these heavy-duty trash bags, much less solid steel.

“Can anyone hear me?!” Emma shrieked, the skin on her hands coated in mire. “Get me out of here!”

She squealed as a roach skittered up her naked side and ran beneath her breast. Frantically, she swiped at it, only smearing more filth over her alabaster skin. She’d been stripped naked, locked in an inhibitor collar, and thrown away like trash. Discarded like a used condom and left to marinate in the school’s rotting leftovers.

“Please!” Emma’s chest heaved, her slender body shuddering. “Anyone?”

Something bearing her weight gave beneath the woman, sending her tumbling backward. The garbage bags crunched, and food squelched. Something slick wedged between her thighs, and a half-full milk carton spilled over her hair. Emma wailed in despair, her naked body soaked in disgusting waste. They used to call her a queen, but now she languished in filth.

Struggling to right herself, the woman sprawled back into the trash while her mind was snatched away. Dragged through the astral plane like a ragdoll, Emma’s consciousness was tossed into a bright white room. Her body was still locked in the dumpster, but her mind had been taken elsewhere.

“Where am I?” The woman groaned, picking herself off the ground.

“Inside my head,” a southern drawl sounded behind her. Emma spun around, but Rogue already had her by the hair. The woman screeched as she was dragged away.

“What the hell is going on?!” Emma cried, clawing at the ironclad grip on her hair. “Where are you—” She squeaked as Rogue tossed her through the air, crashing down at another person’s feet. Emma surged up, flipped her hair back, and bared her teeth. “How dare—”

A strong hand pinched her lower jaw, and she stared into familiar eyes. Eyes that’d once been kind but now held a darkness she couldn’t fathom. It was somehow empty while filled with unfathomable rage. An abyss of burning cold. And a flicker of something resembling lust.

“Parker?” she breathed; he looked different from the wedding.

“Hello, Emma,” Peter said, twisting her face back and forth as he inspected her. “Never saw you this close before.”

“You stripped me?”

“I could’ve done worse,” he said, “Just like Jean and Rogue and so many others.”

“What have you done?” Emma whispered.

“You want a look inside my mind?” Peter asked, “Rogue, let her have a peek.”

Emma’s stomach turned, her eyes widened, and she felt bile welling in her throat upon seeing what had become of the women in Peter’s life. It was perverted, wrong, and terrible. It was only for a second, but a second was long enough to scar Emma’s soul.

“Scott’s going to kill you,” Emma gasped. “They’ll all kill you. I don’t know what you are, but you’re not Peter Parker. You’re not Spider-Man. You’re not even human, are you?”

“I’m a bit of everything,” Peter said.

“What did you do to Rogue? Jean?” Emma demanded.

“Rogue absorbed everything Jean was, forever.” Peter smiled, throwing her back. Emma collapsed on the ground, eyes traveling up his red and blue suit. “They’re both mine now. I have the telepath of my dreams; her powers are at my disposal.”

“So those Rogues were—"

“Real,” Peter said, “I needed a few extra bodies to help take care of the rest of you. Madrox still comes running when you namedrop his ex. And while he isn’t very useful, his powers are.” He snapped his fingers, and Rogue rushed to his side. “Show her.”

A bay window into the real world appeared beside them. Emma gasped, staring out onto the institute's grounds. Portals peppered the yard, with students and faculty alike marching through them. Dozens of Rogues monitored the school's evacuation, some in the air and others on the ground. An army of telepathic, nigh-invulnerable siphons led the mutants away.

“Seven minutes,” Peter said, “That’s how long you lasted. Sure, there were a few stragglers, but nothing Rogue couldn’t handle.”

“Where are they going?” Emma whispered, “Those portals… they’re Magik’s.”

“I have so many toys to play with now,” Peter grinned. “I just need to be careful not to break them. Except you.”

“What?” Emma looked back, “You think I’d help you?”

“Of course not,” Peter scoffed, “I’m not an idiot. No, I need to make one of you an example."

“You think throwing me in a dumpster will demean me?” Emma chuckled, “Honestly, darling, I don’t know what maggot wormed its way into that skull, but it’s not doing you any favors.”

Peter clucked his tongue, “Well, I guess I should just give up right now. After all, Emma Frost is unbreakable.” He smirked, “But her daughters aren’t.”

“Leave them out of this!” Emma hissed.

“They’re already in it,” Peter said, “Rogue, show her where I am.”

The bay window vanished before the white void exploded into her own bedroom. The bed she and Scott shared, the rustic furniture he insisted on buying—everything was right where it should be—except for the three girls cowering in the corner of the room. They were the younger clones of Emma Frost, with the same golden hair and porcelain skin, though they were adorned in their school uniforms: white button-up tops, plaid skirts, and stockings.

“Girls!” Emma reached for them, nearly forgetting she was nothing more than her consciousness. “Can you hear me?”

Celeste, Mindee, and Phoebe perked up, looking around the room. Their eyes settled on her, and the telepaths easily spotted her psychic form.

“Ms. Frost?” they asked in unison.

“So adorable,” the physical version of Peter crept up behind her. Emma was nothing more than a ghost in her home, watching her daughters shudder as the man leered at them. “I bet they sneeze at the same time, too.”

“Get away from them!” Emma screamed, but her incorporeal form could only watch as Rogue’s telepathic powers kept her a helpless voyeur. Even though they’d become women, she still considered them her little girls. “You said you’d make an example of me! Not them! Me!”

“This is making an example of you,” Peter said. “I’m going to break you. One bit at a time. And this is the first step.” Peter stalked toward the girls, the three shuffling away and into the corner. “Pick your favorite.”

“What?” Emma breathed.

“Which one is your favorite?” Peter asked, “I’ll let her wander happily through one of those portals. The other two…” he snickered, “Well, that’s spoilers.”

“I-I-I can’t—” Emma’s eyes darted from Celeste to Mindee and then Phoebe. “Don’t make me!”

“Five… four… three…”

“Please!” Emma cried.

“Two…”

“Phoebe!” It slipped out. She didn’t mean for it to, but it did.

“Phoebe,” Peter smiled, “Why?”

“I don’t know…” Emma whispered, “I don’t—”

“Think.”

“She’s what I always wanted to be at her age,” admitting it was like tearing her own heart out, “she’s stronger, knows what she wants, and doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“Ms. Frost—” Mindee and Celeste whispered.

“See? Was that so hard?” Peter asked. “Mindee and Celeste, you can go, Phoebe stays.”

Emma’s heartbeat quickened, “You said—”

“I lied,” Peter laughed, shooing the other two out of the door. The girls gave Emma one last disdainful look before hurrying into the hall. Meanwhile, Phoebe remained in the corner, her eyes wide as she hugged herself for security.

“Don’t do it!” Emma screamed, “Me! Take me!”

But Peter ignored her, reaching into his belt and pulling out a cartridge. The young woman shrieked as Peter splashed the contents into her face. The sticky concoction drizzled down Phoebe’s nose and into her open mouth. The girl spat on the floor and wiped her tongue, but her movements were becoming slower. Sluggish even. Her cheeks darkened to a rosy red. What the hell did he give her?

“Wh-what was that?” Phoebe whispered, looking down at the small sticky puddle in her hand.

“You like it?” Peter asked, slowly closing the distance.

“I-I—” As though he wasn’t there, Phoebe stuck out her tongue and dipped it into her palm. Her whole body shivered, her eyes flashed open, and she suddenly slurped up the mess. She desperately licked each finger, lavishing it with her saliva. Emma, aghast, watched in horror as her favorite daughter sucked her thumb clean.

“How are you feeling?” Peter asked, brushing the back of his hand on Phoebe’s face. The girl paid him no mind, too busy feasting on whatever Parker had given her. “Are you still scared?”

“Sc-scared?” Phoebe asked, her eyelids drooping. “I can’t… I don’t…”

“Phoebe!” Emma screamed, “Run! Get out of here!”

“Ms. Frost?” Phoebe whispered, “Why are you naked?” Phoebe’s hands traveled up her shirt, stroking her chest, “Why is it so hot in here?” Her eyes looked at Emma’s astral form, “They’re so big. Will mine get that big?” The girl fumbled with the buttons on her shirt before ripping it open. They popped off, scattering across the floor like beads.

“Phoebe!” Emma screamed. “Don’t let him touch you!”

“Phoebe,” Peter stroked her cheek, “Tell her what you want.”

“I’m so hot…” Phoebe breathed, tugging at her white bra. “I can’t… I need…”

“Peter, please! I’ll do anything! Anything you want!”

“You can start by being quiet,” Peter said.

“Dammit, you fucking—”

The blonde lurched upward, her head nearly bashing the top of the dumpster. Her mouth filled with the taste of trash, and her eyes watered. They’d sent her away. Back to her body and this hell while that monster ravaged her favorite girl.

“No!” Emma bashed her fists against the side of the dumpster. “No! No! No! No!”

Her darling girl, her favorite and incredible—

Emma gagged, her throat suddenly crammed full.

No.

Her mouth was empty.

But why did it feel like—

Something slid past her lips and down her throat. She’d been with enough men to know what a cock felt like. The leathery texture of the head rubbing against her mouth, the slight indent where the frenulum dragged over her tongue, she swore she could even smell the scent of manly musk filling her abused nostrils.

Phoebe.

Phoebe was psychically sharing her rape.

“Noooo,” Emma moaned, only to feel her ears gripped by two fingers. Her body lurched forward as though somebody had dragged her across the garbage. Her nose bumped against the side of the dumpster, but to Phoebe, it was Peter’s pelvis. Even though no one was holding her, the telepath’s body reacted like someone was pulling her down their cock. Her pouty lips pressed against the metal like an openmouthed kiss.

“Such a good girl,” she heard Peter’s voice in her head, “You took my cock like a proper whore.”

“Ahhhnk yewwww,” Emma mumbled, knowing Phoebe was doing the same. The woman fought against the control, summoning every psychic trick she knew, but nothing could stop her dirty hand from seeking out the heat between her legs. The moment her fingers touched her lips, Emma let out a gargled moan. Phoebe was beyond horny, and Emma was feeling every heightened touch.

“Speed up,” Peter’s voice said.

Emma’s face pulled off the side of the dumpster, eyes wide, before her body lurched back forward again. Her lips planted against the rusty metal, the tip of her tongue tasting the bitter garbage before she repeated it.

THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD

Emma blew the side of the dumpster, her lips suckling on the metal. She played with herself clumsily; Phoebe had yet to master the art of masturbation as Emma had. Her fingers were soon slimy with her arousal, and the wet sounds of her digits sinking in and out of her hole filled the filthy container. Emma’s hips wriggled, and her tongue slipped out more, licking where a man’s balls would’ve been, only she was dragging it through the muck.

“Dirty little whore,” Peter hissed in her head, “You like being trash. You’re getting off on this.”

“Yeth thirr,” Emma lisped around an invisible cock.

Slobbering against the dirty wall, the woman tried desperately to free herself. But Phoebe’s euphoria was intoxicating; her mind lost to the infinite pleasure of whatever Parker had drugged her with. She continued making love with her mouth while Peter’s words echoed in her mind.

“Take me deeper,” he said.

Emma leaned in, her nose pressed flat against the wall. She mashed her face against the cold metal, gargling on nothing. Her eyes watered, and her body shook. He was nestled deep down her throat; Peter was so big it was unbelievable. Her lips stretched wider and smeared across the filthy side. But he kept her there, holding her still as she choked on him, drool spilling down her chin and plopping onto the garbage.

Finally, Peter pulled her off his cock. Emma fell back, sputtering and coughing, gasping in the stale air. But her fingers were still busy in her cunt, and she moaned as her phat ass plopped atop a trash bag.

“Savor the taste,” Peter ordered.

While Phoebe was enjoying the savory musk of Peter, Emma’s tongue slipped into her mouth and regaled her with all the trash it’d soaked in. As much as the woman wanted to hurl, Phoebe swam in ecstasy. So, Emma smacked her lips, slid her tongue around the inside of her mouth, and moaned around the bitter and rank flavors of trash.

“Mmmmm,” Emma’s other hand ran to her breast, thumbing her nipple. Her fingers were sticky from the muck, but she acted out Phoebe’s desire. “Please, may I cum, sir?”

“Cum as much as you want,” Peter said, “But you’ll have to do one thing for me.”

“Anything,” Emma said.

“You’ll need to lick up whatever mess you make.”

Still foggy with lust, Emma glanced down at the trash beneath her. It was an open pizza box, with grease stains in the center. No. She couldn’t. It was disgusting. But her fingers quickened, her eyes rolled back, and she dug deep into her hole as she rubbed her G-spot.

“Nnnnn—” Emma struggled out, finding her voice, “Nnnnno. Phoebe… please…”

But Phoebe was rushing toward climax. Her manufactured lust built inside her core and readily spilled over. The girl was young, horny, and Emma was all too familiar with that same need. Emma’s mouth gaped open as she shook the walls of her prison with a loud and unearthly moan.

“OOOOOOOOOHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAA!” Emma squealed, her pussy gushing onto a pizza box. She spattered on the cardboard, her body shuddering as she came hard and long. It was a good and solid spurt, spraying her ankles like oil from a fryer. Her muscles gave out, and she collapsed on her back. A garbage bag supported her head.

“Such a good girl,” Peter’s voice continued while her chest rose and fell as she panted. “Remember what you have to do?”

Emma’s body moved of its own accord. She crawled around to the pizza box, her eyes wide as her dirty tongue slipped out of her maw.

“Peetah… pleathhe!” Emma forced out, but her tongue had already touched the box. She licked the salty and soggy cardboard, lavishing it with long and sultry laps. Phoebe was putting on a show, and Emma suffered because of it. Her lips pressed against the box, and she slurped hungrily. Drinking a mixture of rainwater and her own nectar.

“That’s enough,” Peter finally said. “You did such a good job.”

“Thank you,” Emma panted, bile building in the back of her throat.

“How did it taste?” he asked.

“I taste really dirty, sir,” Emma cooed.

“Are you ready for the main course?” Peter asked.

“Yes, sir!” Emma bounced with excitement, her head bopping against the lid. “How would you like me?”

“I want you to ride me. C’mere…”

Emma crawled around the dumpster, her body working through the trash. She couldn’t see what Phoebe was doing, only that she quickly ran out of room.

“A little to the left,” Peter said.

Emma inched over, her knee slipping and a trash bag working its way between her legs. She gasped, feeling the slick plastic rub against her cunt. Something hard and firm rubbed against her clit, and she let out a little mewl.

“Can I put you inside me, sir?” Emma begged, slipping her cunt over where Peter’s cock would’ve been. Her stained fingers rubbed up and down her body, marking it with green and black muck. “Please, sir?”

“Go ahead,” Peter said.

“Thank you!” Emma lowered herself down, feeling the phantom cock splitting her open. She could swear her pussy was parting for him, feeling herself stretching to accommodate his massive girth. She let out a long and over-the-top moan. Massaging her bountiful tits and rubbing her rubbery nipples.

“God, you’re tight,” Peter grunted.

“I’m tight for you, sir,” Emma said, easing herself down. “I’ll always be tight for you.”

“Good,” Peter gripped her ass cheeks, and Emma gasped. His fingers dug into her juicy flesh. She let out a giggle, sticking a finger into her mouth and sucking on it playfully. Her tastebuds were assaulted by sour slop, but she didn’t stop. She nibbled on the tip seductively.

“Are you going to show me how a real man fucks?” Emma purred, “I’ve only been with other boys so far. I need to know how a girl should be treated.”

“A girl does what I ask her to,” Peter snapped, “Ride.”

Emma placed her hands on Peter’s chest, or rather a bulky bag, and used it to push herself back up. The trash between her legs ground against her cunt, eliciting a low moan. She rocked her hips back and forth, dragging her pussy up and down the invisible cock. The infectious ecstasy was getting to her. Sweat dribbled down her forehead, and she picked up steam.

“Oh fuck,” Emma moaned, her large breasts bouncing up and down. “Am I doing a good job, sir? Am I riding you like a good girl?” She humped the trash bag beneath her, feeling the insides grinding against her dripping sex.

“Such a good girl,” Peter laughed, “You dirty piece of trash.”

“Yes!” Emma cried, “Put me in my place, sir! Let me know how worthless I am!”

His fingers dug into her hips, and he pounded her up and down. She could barely hold on as he ravaged her, fucking into her with the power of a freight train. Emma squeaked with joy; her pristine body used like a fleshlight.

Emma rode him for what could’ve been hours; she wasn’t sure. Her mind was cloudy, lost in lust. She breathed in the sour fumes of the trash and tasted the garbage on her tongue but never stopped riding the bag beneath her. She grunted and moaned and cried with pleasure. She could feel her orgasm building, and she focused on the sensation of the foreign object hammering her cunt.

“You’re stretching me!” Emma cried; her cunt felt like it was at its breaking point. “You’re so deep! Deeper than anyone else!” Her sloppy cunt plapped on the bags beneath her, crunching the garbage inside. She humped and bounced like an animal, pinched her nipples while losing herself deeper and deeper into debauchery.

“You wanna cum?” Peter asked.

“Yes!” Emma squealed, “Please!”

“Say what you are,” Peter demanded. “What I made you.”

“I’m a whore!” Emma screamed, “A slut!”

“More.”

“A skank, a bitch, a—” Emma’s eyes lit up, “Trash. I’m worthless trash!”

“You’re learning,” Peter chuckled before his voice went stony. “Phoebe can cum. Goodbye, trash.”

“No! Please!”

Emma was alone in the dark. Still riding garbage.

All at once, the scent, flavor, and feeling of greasy garbage assaulted her senses. She should’ve retched; she should’ve screamed, but she swore she could feel it still. Something was inside her.

She fell on her side, and sure enough, she felt a thick and hard object slip from her cunt. Mind still infested with the horniness of a teenager, she dug through the bags and found it. A wooden staff. Thinking only of her waning orgasm, she dragged it out of the bag and stuffed it into her dripping cunt.

“YESSSSS!” she squealed, hammering the staff into her cunt. She fucked herself with both hands, pushing it as deep as it could go. It bashed her cervix, but she was too lost to care. The wet squelching of her pussy and the rustling of bags filled her ears, but none of that mattered. She was trash, after all. Worthless trash.

She pummeled her pussy, lazing in filth and forcing pleasure back into her. She moaned, drool spilling out of her mouth. It was good, too good; she was already at the crest, and soon she’d reach her peak.

“I’m trash! I’m trash! I’m trash!” Emma’s mantra grew louder, her movements more frenzied, and with one last thrust, her pussy squeezed down on the staff, and she let out an earsplitting screech. Her squirt sprayed in an arc across her new home, spattering on plastic. Her toes curled, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

It was the best orgasm she’d ever had. All her energy pouring out of her and through her pussy. Her hips bucked, and her back arched. With a few more humps, she finally gave out. Collapsing into the rubbish.

Panting, her head pressed against the milk carton. It felt nice and cool, and she nuzzled into it.

Her hand still wrapped around the staff inside her, and she curiously plucked it from her hole. She pulled it closer with weary eyes to see what she’d been using on herself. It wasn’t a staff; it was a handle, and at the end was a big, black, rubbery object.

It was a toilet plunger.

Her most powerful orgasm had come from a toilet plunger.

Emma didn’t know when it started, but she was crying. Big, heavy, shaking sobs. She bawled into her new home, clutching the plunger to her chest.

Her newest lover.

By now, Peter had traversed these hallowed halls dozens of times. While it hadn’t always been the same building, it was the same people and atmosphere. It was so palpable he could weave his fingers through it: the swelling hopes for a better tomorrow and the oppressive and heavy fear it would never come. The mutants had already suffered so much. How far was he willing to push them?

“All the way,” Peter whispered, his hands flat against the wooden doors. “I’ve already come this far.”

He breathed, plastered that silly smile across his face, and gently pushed open the double doors. Pouring effort into her swagger, he strolled around Charles Xavier’s office, eyeing the rows of books lining his shelves. He ran his gloved finger along the spines, feigning interest.

“Y’know, Prof, I always envied your collection,” Peter clucked his tongue, “And not just the books, if you know what I mean. But I see you’re enjoying my collection, too.”

PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP

The vaunted Professor Charles Xavier’s head craned back, his mouth agape, and his eyes wide. His arms hung at his sides, fingers brushing the spokes of his wheelchair, twitching ever so often. The blanket usually adorning his legs was removed, and his slacks drawn down to his knees, giving the Purple Girl ample room to ride him reverse cowgirl.

Peter sighed through his nose, rounding the desk.

Her own shade of purple had spread to the Professor, dyeing his skin the same color. It was a side effect of her abilities; she wasn’t nearly as strong as her father, but she still had her uses.

“Sir?” Kara Killgrave panted, her body bare and sweat drizzled down her face and tits. “It’s been a few hours. Could I please have a rest?”

“In a minute,” Peter said, not even deigning to look her in the eyes. “Can he hear me?”

“I told him to go still and not to use his powers,” Kara breathed heavily, “Please, sir. Just some water—”

“Quiet,” Peter snapped. Leaning closer to the Professor, he watched the man’s face. His usually stoic demeanor was now warped in horror. His body quaked as Kara continued to ride him, his breathing shallow. “I know this sounds hollow, especially now, but you don’t need to worry. I’ll take good care of your children.”

A little streak dribbled out of the corner of Xavier’s eye, trickling down his cheek and plopping onto the shoulder of his jacket.

His dream was dead.

But Peter’s was beginning.

Chapter Text

RECAP: Peter has incapacitated the X-Men with the help of a corrupted Rogue and has taken them somewhere else to play with. 

Gray moths beat their bodies against the glow of a single bulb, casting strange shadows along the concrete walkway. Beneath her, rows of paint-peeled jalopies lined up like judgmental neighbors, their cracked windshields witnessing her silent walk of shame above them. She hastened her pace, passing the numbered doors of the roadside motel.

A sable scarf smothered her bone-white mane, a billowy tan trench coat flapped around her coffee-toned ankles, and the thick lenses of her sunglasses kept all from recognizing her crystal blue eyes. Ororo Munroe skulked like the criminal she’d once been, pulling the collar of her coat higher to cover her pointed cheekbones. Her heart thundered in her chest, and beads of perspiration dotted her forehead. The fear of being discovered battled with the excitement of the coming night.

The gilded numbers on room 208 caught her eye, and she hurried to the doorstep. Rapping thrice on the chipped wood, she fought the urge to fidget in place. He liked to keep her waiting, likely watching her through the peephole. For three agonizing minutes, she waited. Nervous sweat collected down her neck and back. Finally, the door opened.

“Inside.”

It was cold and domineering, and her stomach fluttered with glee. It was so unlike T’challa, so cold and unfeeling. She hurried inside, stepping into a haze of cigarette murk. She coughed, tasting the bitter smoke in her throat. Waving her hand back and forth, she looked around the dingy and musky motel room.

Dirty, outdated, and seedy. Her heart swelled in her chest; he always chose the nastiest places. Whether he knew how she liked being treated or this was what he preferred, it didn’t matter. She loved this perverse thrill.

He shut the door, locked it, and stuck out his hand. “Vibranium.”

Ororo swallowed, reached into her inside pocket, and pulled out a small cylindrical glass tube. Inside was a small fortune worth of alien minerals. This was treason, stealing from Wakanda. Even as Queen, she'd be locked away. Maybe worse. But the tradeoff was too good.

A gloved hand swiped it from her; the criminal looked it over beneath the dim light before chuckling. Tossing the spoils on the bed, he rolled his shoulders and asked, “I suppose you would like a reward, yes?”

“Please,” Ororo begged, lower lip quivering.

“Show me,” the man said.

Ororo undid the clasp on her trench coat, peeling it open like she was unwrapping a present. Her cocoa-colored breasts spilled free, topped with dark Hershey kiss-like nipples. Her prominent abs stood out above her white and tangled patch of pubic hair. She never shaved, and it showed by how unkempt it was. Her body trembled as she flashed the criminal like a street whore, but she knew better than to hurry him.

“Pathetic as always,” Ulysses Klaue lifted his sonic converter and pointed it at her unprotected cunt. “Do try to keep quiet this time.”

Ororo nodded obediently but knew that she could never stop herself from squealing unearthly cries once he began forcing the orgasms from her. She would never sell out Wakanda for these sessions. Just pieces of it. Small pieces nobody would miss.  

Slack-jawed, Ororo Munroe gaped in horror as her greatest shame was replayed over and over on the far wall of her sleek prison cell. Her past self twisted and moaned beneath Klaue’s ministrations, holding open her coat like a sex offender on a playground. This happened years ago, well before she divorced T’challa, but the ramifications of this going public could ruin her life. Was this Klaue’s doing? And if not, who’d been spying on her?

The answer came quicker than her past self did.

“Always wondered if the curtain matched the drapes,” a voice crackled through an unseen speaker. “Guess we can settle that on Reddit.”

Storm’s neck craned up. The sound was coming from above her, but the frictionless dark walls of her cell gave nothing away. It was like being trapped in a black box. The notion made the woman clutch herself fearfully, eyeing every corner for an escape. Even with the decent size of the room, it still hauntingly reminded her of being buried alive as a child.

“Who are you?” Storm demanded. Without her uniform, she felt unnaturally exposed. Her cream-colored blouse and blue jeans left her feeling weighed down. Even her flowing white hair felt unnaturally oppressed, trapped in a bun.

“A fan!” The voice was eerily chipper. “I knew you were powerful, but ever since I read your file, I realized you’ve been an actual goddess. Did Mjolnir have that new hammer smell?”

The voice was familiar, but she’d find out who it was herself. Lifting her arm, she readied to channel the forces of lightning. Thick as these walls seemed, they could never—

“What?” No flood of power. No taste of the elements. Nothing. 

“Right,” the voice continued, “I would’ve set you up with an inhibitor collar, but you tend to unlock those quickly. So, I just made your whole cell one. We’ve yet to explore the side effects of prolonged exposure to inhibitor frequencies, but I doubt you’ll grow another limb.”

“The X-Men will—” Storm’s eyes widened. The X-Men. The video nearly made her forget. She’d been teaching a class when an explosion sounded. Then she woke up here. “Where are the others?!”

“They’re fine,” the voice said. “I’d worry about yourself. You see, I got my hands on a few psychics, but some of you more seasoned X-Men are hard to break. So, I figured, why not just wear you down? You still have that claustrophobia?”

“Are you trying to frighten me, little man?” Ororo snarled. “I don’t scare easily. Not anymore. I’ve toppled gods and monsters. I will break out of this room. And when I do, I will burn you away for what you’ve done. I will boil the moisture in your skin. You cannot cage a goddess.”

“R-Really?” the voice stammered.

“If you release me, I will leave you unscathed,” she lied. “But try my patience, and there will be no mercy from me or my friends.”

“Wow…” the voice whispered, “That would be so much more impactful if Klaue weren’t jilling you off right now.”

“Goddessssssssss!” the audio resumed just when the video-Ororo’s thighs quaked beneath the force of her first orgasm. Her younger self’s mouth gaped open in a humiliating smile, tongue lolling out, and eyes rolled back. The video froze on the image of Ororo’s ahegao, causing the X-Man to blush.

“Perfect!” the voice laughed, “I think I’ll make it my screensaver.”

“You little worm!” Ororo screamed, fury rising within her.

“Now you’re hurting my feelings,” the voice pouted. “Maybe I should hurt yours.”

The cell rumbled and groaned like a ship at sea. The recording of Ororo selling out a nation for a quick cum began growing larger. Her “fucked stupid” face subtly expanding as the image grew.

No.

The image wasn’t growing; the wall was moving closer.

“Ever heard of The Cask of Amontillado?” the voice asked. “Poor guy is sealed up inside a wall. Like a tomb. Or coffin. You wouldn’t know anything about being buried alive, would you?”

In an instant, she felt as she did when she was a little girl. Trapped beneath the rubble, supposedly forgotten by the world.

“NOOO!” Storm threw her fists against the wall. Her heart was threatening to burst. She begged for nature to answer her call, but the inhibitor cell left her deaf and mute to the earth. She’d been through therapy, she’d worked with The Professor, but her childhood trauma remained. Animalistic panic wracked her soul, and she rushed to escape from one corner to the other.

She wouldn’t cry. She mustn’t cry. She wouldn’t give her tormentor the sick pleasure.

Suddenly, the wall stopped.

“I hate seeing you like this, so I’m going to give you the opportunity to not flip the fuck out.” The voice continued, “How about you show me those fat tits, and I won’t shrink the room.”

“What?” Ororo screamed at the perverted demand.

The wall rumbled, inching closer.

“I’ll do it!” Storm gripped the bottom of her blouse and ripped it over her head. She threw the sheer fabric away, exposing her voluptuous teardrop-shaped breasts. Braless, she’d always been comfortable with her body, spending her youth nearly naked in the Savanah. But knowing a stranger with monstrous intent was watching left her muscles tense.

But the wall stopped.

“Lift them,” the voice said.

Ororo cupped her breasts, feeling the weight of her fleshy orbs. Swallowing, she hoisted them higher, like she was presenting herself at a strip show. Her ebony skin was silky smooth, and her impressive bust had caught the attention of men and women alike. Now, she was offering them up like meat at a market.

“Jump,” the voice teased.

It was a childish demand. But Ororo swallowed her pride and hopped. Her tits flopped up before slapping back down when she landed. Their loud smacking as they slapped against one another turned her stomach. Her fatty tits rippled and jiggled like chocolate Jell-O. Her large nipples bobbed.  

“Let that hair free.”

Ororo’s white locks spilled from her band, draping behind her like an ivory waterfall.

“Say thank you.”

“For what?” Ororo hissed.

The wall rumbled.

“Thank you!” Ororo shouted, pressing her bare back against the wall behind her. “I said thank you!”

“For what?” the voice taunted.

“For-for making me strip!” Ororo called, digging her flats into the floor. “For letting me bounce for you! Would you like me to do it again?” She began hopping up and down, never losing sight of the encroaching wall. Her massive tits bounced around, smacking against her like fleshy bags. Like a little girl playing jump rope, her hair flounced along with the bobbing of her tits.

“I-I’m bouncing!” she screamed, “Please stop the wall!”

The wall stopped again.

“Thank you!” Ororo stopped and gave a genuine smile. Her heart was racing, but not from the jumping.

“Shed the pants, shoes, and underwear.”

She didn’t hesitate to kick off her shoes. She quickly unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. She slid them down over her thicc and meaty ass, her cheeks barely clad by the straining black silk panties. She threw away her jeans and tugged down the stretchy fabric, revealing her even thicker and wilder bush than what was onscreen. Wiry white hair sprouted from her crotch and down her lips. It nestled around her asshole like a layer of fur. She glanced up from her untamed beaver, right into the face of herself cumming on the wall. She burned with humiliation and rage.

“Aww, don’t look so sad. You’re doing great! Why not reward yourself?”

“Reward?” Ororo asked.

“Yeah, pick up that shoe of yours.”

Ororo stepped tentatively closer to the wall where she’d tossed it aside. Plucking it up, she held it like an alien object. While being a flat, it did have a pointed tip. A gift from Jean Grey.

“Fuck yourself with it.”

“What?!” It slipped out before Ororo could stop herself.

The wall began moving again, her braindead “fucked stupid” face growing closer.

“No!” Ororo scurried back to the other side and plopped her phat ass down on the cold floor. She leaned back on her huge dark cheeks and spread her legs apart. While one hand gripped the shoe, the other felt around for her dark pussy lips. Digging through her rug of white hair, she slid her fingers up and down her slit. It was dry, not even a hint of wetness.

And the wall was still coming.

Ororo stuffed the tip of the shoe in her mouth, soaking it in her spit. Her tongue glazed the pointed leather flat, slobbering over it like a dog. She thrust it in and out of her mouth, fucking her face with the object. Her full lips stretched to fit as much as she could within her maw, gagging as the toe jammed against her uvula. The ahegao face grew closer by the moment, and Ororo realized she couldn’t waste more time.

Jamming the shoe against her tight little hole, she let out a little cry of discomfort. She worked it against her opening despite the shoe’s unbelievable width. Ororo panted and teased her clit in hopes of getting some help from her love juices.

“Uh oh,” the voice said, “I think you’ve got a few minutes left. Better hurry!”

There was only one thing to do. Ororo clenched her teeth, gripped the shoe around the middle, and pierced the tip into her soft cunt. She screamed, her muscles straining around it as the leather jammed itself inside her. The burning shot through her nerves, turning her face red and curling her toes. But she’d gotten the thickest part inside her. She gasped, savoring her victory, only for realization to hit.

Oh, goddess, she’d just shoved a shoe in her cunt.

“I said fuck yourself with it!” The voice snapped.

The woman winced and hissed, testing the foreign object with a slight push. It stung, but she couldn’t waste more time with the wall approaching. With a loud cry, she thrust the leather deeper, plowing into her tender cunt. A shuddering sigh tore through her with the sudden yank back out. It left her feeling empty, and she hated knowing that whenever she’d have sex, she’d be comparing it to a shoe. But she didn’t have time to ruminate. She needed to fuck it.

It stretched her open, peeling her lips apart as she fucked herself with her flat. She still wasn’t wet, but she fought through it. Grunting and whining as she worked it in and out of her snug hole. She fought back her tears, slamming her pussy with wanton abandon. Her persona as a hero and goddess buckled beneath her vicious and humiliating masturbation. The wet squelching of her pussy around the shoe turned her stomach.

“Goddessssssssss!” The audio of herself screaming played again.

“Pathetic as always,” Klaue’s voice repeated from earlier.

“Goddessssssssss!”

“Pathetic as always.”

“Goddessssssssss!”

“Pathetic as always.”

It repeated like a mantra, playing over and over as the wall came closer.

Ororo could feel herself breaking.

“I’m doing it!” Ororo shrieked, “I’m fucking my shoe! Please, stop!”

“Cum.” The voice ordered.

What?

“I-I can’t!” Ororo cried. “It’s not possible!”

The voice said nothing.

But the wall still rumbled.

Ororo fucked herself faster, slamming the shoe deeper inside. It was nearly down to the heel now, but she still wasn’t anywhere close to cumming. The fear, the adrenaline, it was just too much,

“Please!” she screamed.

“Goddessssssssss!”

“Pathetic as always.”

“Pleeeeeease!” Ororo wasn’t sure whether she was begging the voice or her pussy.

“Goddessssssssss!”

“Pathetic as always.”

“PLEEEEEEEEASE!”

Overwhelmed by fear, Ororo’s bladder let go, and warm piss splashed the floor beneath her. It filled the shoe, sloshing around as she thrust it in harder. The woman’s mind went blank, her heart nearly bursting through her chest, and tears flooded her face as she screamed. No words. No pleading. Just unintelligible noises. Her throat went raw from her wails as her mouth contorted in terror.

At long last, her mind gave out, and Ororo collapsed in her own pool of urine.

Long eyelashes fluttered open, sticky with tears.

For three blissful seconds, she forgot the horror and the degradation. However, that mercy lasted only until she heard the clinking of metal. The goddess’s memories flooded back, and her head darted from side to side.

She was still in the room—that accursed room—but the walls had expanded to their original size. Light emanated from every surface, turning the dark shadows into a sterile hospital-like setting. They weren’t steel like she suspected before; they were panels.

While it eased her previous terror, it did little to halt her growing panic. Like a dog, she was propped on her hands and knees, with her legs pulled apart and strapped to a padded table beneath her. She readied to launch herself back at the walls, only for her body to remain sedentary. Something was touching her. All of her. It was like she was wrapped in a thick, rubbery material.

At first, she thought she was back in her uniform. She recognized the touch of unstable molecules anywhere. The way they hugged her body like a second skin and caressed every curve and crevice. But they felt off, stiffer. Their touch was still soft, but they wouldn’t bend to her will. They sealed her in place, locked still like a statue. They coated her entire body, save for her face and hair, freezing her like one paralyzed muscle.

CLANK

It was a latch, the latch of a door. Ororo struggled to throw her body this way and that, but she was stuck in place. Grunting and hissing, she found only her eyes could dart back and forth. Her ivory hair cascaded down her shoulders as she strained to twist her head. She could hear footsteps. They were soft, but they were present.

“That was quite the show,” the familiar voice said, coming up beside her. “The way you pissed yourself at the end was hilarious. By the way, how are you liking your new outfit? It might feel like a latex catsuit, but I assure you… it looks exactly like a latex catsuit.”

A heat rose in her cheeks, but she said nothing. Even as strong fingers ran up and down her plump backside, she stayed mute. They manhandled her flesh, squeezing her ass like a stress toy. While she couldn’t budge an inch, this person could freely manipulate her body like she was a sex doll.

“You’re awfully quiet,” the voice continued, “How’s your cunt feeling? That shoe was lodged in there pretty deep.” As a second reminder, a thick finger dragged up her slit. Ororo gasped, feeling fingers on her furry lips. He’d left that part of her uncovered, and she didn’t need to be a genius to understand why. “Poor little pussy.” He slapped her flesh, prompting her to squeak. She was still wet from the urine, and her stomach turned, hearing the wet collision of flesh on flesh.

SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP

“Having fun?” Ororo hissed.

“Oh, now she speaks,” the man laughed, but he slid his hand from between her legs and wiped it off on her thicc ass cheeks. He strode around, meandering to drag his fingers along her massive breasts and flick her thimble-sized nipples. Ororo grimaced but had little choice but to let him toy with her body. Despite her humiliating display earlier, she clenched her jaw and allowed her elegant features to do the talking. She was still a goddess, after all, and a mere man would not shake her.

 Only when he stepped before her did that steely glare falter.

“Y-You’re—”

“Peter Parker,” the brown-haired man said. While he’d replaced his red and blue suit with a simple black button-up shirt and pants, she still recognized the hero. After all, she’d been invited to his wedding and had congratulated the happy couple.

“Why?” she asked, eyes growing wide.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Peter grinned and cupped her face. He twisted her head from side to side, inspecting her. “You’re even more beautiful up close. The files don’t do you justice. And, between you and me, my mask tends to obscure some of the finer details.”

She could be shocked later. Right now, there was so much more to worry about.

Ororo bared her teeth. “Where are the others?”

“Worry about yourself,” Peter playfully bopped her nose with a finger. “You didn’t make the list.”

“What list?” she demanded.

“Let’s just say some of you need to be treated with kid’s gloves,” Peter’s fingers brushed her hair. “But others, like you, don’t have the same security.” Gripping a handful, he yanked hard. Ororo let out a shriek, her head throbbing and fury building inside her. “You all scream so nicely.”

“I’ll kill you!” Ororo snarled.

“I’m sure you would,” Peter strolled around her, out of view again. “But wouldn’t you rather see this?”

Suddenly, the walls and floors shifted from sterile white to crystal blue skies with fluffy white clouds. The panels were screens, displaying a perfect image of the world above them. Ororo’s heart surged, staring ahead at the endless sky before her. It looked so real, so breathtakingly close, that she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

Two hands rested on her shoulders. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ororo’s mouth gaped as something hard pressed against her still dewy slit. It dragged up and down her opening, slicking her entrance with its slimy arousal. She shuddered, feeling what she knew was a man’s cock press against her fleshy folds. He teased her, grinding himself along her lips, stroking himself off on her body. Peter’s cock was dangerously close to parting her open and plundering her depths.

“Stop,” Ororo whispered.

“Okay,” he said. Suddenly, the touch against her opening was gone. “But no more sky for you.”

In a flash, everything was gone. She was cast back into darkness, lost in a void. Ororo’s breath quickened; she was trapped in a small room with a predator. She tried to writhe in her binds again, only for them to do something terrifying. They tightened.

“You like it?” Peter’s voice cut through the dark. “My twist on unstable molecules. They’re still resilient and conform to the skin, but my brand differs slightly. It does what I want them to. You might even say it’s a part of me.”

“P-Peter—”

Suddenly, the air was squeezed from Ororo’s chest. Her eyes bulged, and her mouth hung open. It was like being trapped in a vice, clenching around every part of her body. Her slender legs, her toned arms, her ample chest, her long neck, and even both plump ass cheeks.

“Is this what it was like, Ororo?” Peter asked. “Being buried alive? Trapped beneath so much rubble, you couldn’t see the sky.”

Memories flooded back, and tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. She could breathe, just barely, but what came out were raspy and shuddering gasps. Fear chilled her core, and she once again was swept back to being a little girl crying for help.

His breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “Would you like to see the sky again?”

The sky exploded in front of her in an ocean of blue. The hold on her body relaxed, and Ororo guzzled down fresh and euphoric air. It wasn’t real; she knew it wasn’t, but that didn’t stop her from savoring the view she loved so dearly.

Peter plunged into her unprotected cunt.

Ororo gasped, blue eyes wide; he’d filled her so quickly she barely noticed. A moan escaped her lips when he popped past her ebony lips, and the woman’s channel welcomed his dick. The width of his cockhead was tremendous, stretching her sensitive muscles open, and she trembled around the girthy invader.  Only the head of his member nestled inside her, resting there, enjoying her warmth. He’d defiled her body by claiming her most sacred of places. It made her queasy, and she managed to wiggle her hips a little to pull away.

Darkness.

Peter pulled out.

The suit tightened around her, wringing her like a sponge.

She waited to hear him whisper in her ear like before, taunting her. She knew it was coming; monsters like him couldn’t help themselves. She knew what he was doing, systematically breaking her down to the point she’d beg to stay in the “sky”. But she wouldn’t break, no matter how often he brought her into the dark.

Then she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

CLANK

The door!

Had he left? Or was this a ploy? He wouldn’t leave her like this! He couldn’t be that cruel!

“peeeeeeter…” she rasped, eyes bulging in the depths of hell.

There was nothing. No sound. Only the beating of her own heart and each ragged breath. It was like the death rattle of a dying metronome.

Was Peter still here? Had he left? Would he ever come back? Would she ever see the sky again?

The thoughts horrified her, drawing fresh tears. She wanted to sob, but she couldn’t muster the breath. Trapped, suffocating, and lost. Ororo’s mind went from counting the seconds to losing itself to fear. All that existed was the darkness and this horrible suit.

Every time she expected him to speak up, he didn’t. So many times, she thought she heard the door open, only to realize it was her imagination. The crushing pressure around her had become horrifyingly familiar, and she’d begun to wonder if it’d always been so difficult to breathe.

He’d abandoned her, hadn’t he? Left her because she was too stuck up and stubborn.

She’d give anything to have him back. Anything at all.

Suddenly, sunlight exploded into existence.

The suit released its hold, air flooding her burning lungs.

And Peter’s cock was back at her entrance.

Another person’s touch had never felt so good.

“P-Peter!” she wept with joy, still trembling from fright. She sobbed pitifully, only now having the breath to do so.

“Are you catching on?” he asked.

“Y-Yes,” Ororo heaved, her chest expanding with every gulp of air.

“So, ask me,” Peter said.

She wanted to be the hero everyone believed her to be. To spit at him, curse him out, and break from her binds. But the sky was so blue, and the dark had been so cold. So, Ororo kept her eyes locked on the billowing clouds passing around her, trying to dissociate from this nightmare.

“Please put it in me,” Ororo whispered.

“You can do better than that,” Peter said.

“F-Fuck me,” Ororo said, “Fuck my p-pussy.” The words tasted bitter on her lips, but that’s what he wanted. And she wouldn’t go back to the dark.

“Good girl,” Peter thrust back inside her, traveling further than before and grazing her G-spot. A child-like gasp of wonder escaped her lips. Pleasure had never felt so alien or inviting. Her body shuddered, feeling him rub up against her silky-smooth insides. He kept going, traveling further and further into her depths. The unwanted twinges of pleasure plagued her cunt, but she let those feelings become lost to the clouds.

His cock plundered her velvety channel, and she could feel herself responding, moistening. Melting around him like she was made to take his cock. Surprisingly, the suit allowed her to rock back against him. At that moment, disgust struck her mind, and she nearly took her eyes away from the sky. But to her wonder, the clouds passed by her a little quicker.

Testing it again, she humped back and saw the clouds lurch with her. She did it again, rocking her hips forward and then back. The sky obeyed her movements, doing the same. It was virtual reality; she was aware of it, but Ororo couldn’t help but smile. She shoved her ass back against her rapist to propel herself forward, watching the clouds shoot by.

“You want to go faster?” Peter asked.

Afraid of what would happen if she faltered, Ororo immediately said, “Yes.”

Peter gripped her hips, digging his strong fingers into her dark flesh. They pressed in deep, and she nearly yowled in pain, only for him to slam himself all the way inside. Her svelte passage surrendered to his powerful thrust, massaging her delicate insides. Their bodies collided in a loud “PLAP” as her juicy coffee ass smacked against his pelvis. His balls swung forward, smacking her clit, and Ororo gaped in pleasure.

And then the sky shot by.

“Y-Yesss…” Ororo’s eyes danced with the blue and white of the world. The faster they went, the more freedom she had to maneuver her body. The warm pleasure in her cunt was growing into the foreground, mixing with her need to be free. The hotter her loins burned, the faster she traveled.

Then darkness.

“No!” Ororo wheezed as the suit compressed her body. “Bring it back! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

“Work for it.”

She felt him at her opening, the leathery head grazing her folds.

With no hesitation, she pushed back against him. The suit let her, and soon, she popped him back into her hole. The pressure around her began to ease, but the sky was nowhere in sight. Ororo pushed back further, feeling him slink deeper inside. Her palms pressed against the padded table as she forced her ass back like a bitch in heat. But she could only go so far.

Her bindings wouldn’t allow her to go all the way back, and she realized she’d only taken him down a few inches. Panicking, she started wiggling her ass enticingly, bobbing it up and down in hopes he’d come in and take the rest of her. Her thick cheeks wobbled as she worked them into a steady rhythm, eventually getting them to bounce up and around as she twerked.

PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!

“P-Please!” Ororo cried, “Fuck me, Peter! I need it! I need the sky!”

Peter thrust forward an inch, and Ororo gasped in pleasure as her special spot was played with again. At that exact moment, the skies opened, but just for a second before vanishing.

“Nooo!” Ororo moaned, rocking herself forward and slamming herself back. “Please!”

“What are you offering?” Peter’s voice was colder in the dark.

“I’ll… I’ll eat your cum!” Ororo hurried out.

“That’s your offer?” He snorted.

“M-My ass!” Ororo cried, “You can fuck my ass!”

“Maybe…” Peter said, “But I really like this cunt. I might not want to pull out when the time comes.”

Ororo’s eyes widened. It hadn’t even occurred to her that he might cum inside her. That he’d creampie her ebony pussy and fill her with his cream. But now that the thought was in her head, she knew what he wanted. And worse than that, he wanted her to ask for it.

She nibbled her plump lower lip in thought for only an instant, but an instant was all it took for the suit to constrict around her.

“Y-You can do it,” Ororo wheezed.

“Beg.”

“Cum in me,” Ororo whispered, the suit easing its hold. “Breed me.”

“Better…”

The sky flashed again for a second before disappearing.

“Knock me up!” Ororo screamed. “Breed me! Fuck me! Cum in me! Put a baby in my belly! Fill me with your cum! Make me your whore! Just cum in me so I can see the sky again!” She screamed, “Breed me so I can fly!”

Peter slammed into her, and the room erupted into light.

Ororo squealed with joy, fucking back against him to propel herself further. All that mattered was the sky. That’s all she needed. She slammed her meaty hips down against him, fucking him doggystyle like she was a breeding bitch. Her pussy was drooling with juices, bathing Peter’s thighs with her arousal.

PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!

She rocked her body back and forth, her mouth gaping open in delight. At that moment, she didn’t care about the ramifications; she just cared about not being trapped in the dark. She humped and bucked against him, grunting and whining as he crammed her snatch full. He was so deep and fast, pummeling her like a sex toy.

She didn’t know how long they’d been going. It could’ve been hours, but soon, she noticed his thrusts were getting more frenzied. She could feel her orgasm approaching, like a warming fire building inside her. It had grown like a storm, and a crescendo was in sight. She humped back, driving him against her special place over and over. The skies were whipping past now, their speed near blinding.

“Breed me! Fuck me! Breed me! Fuck me!” Ororo cried, spurning him on. The tension vanished like a clenched fist opening, and a great release spilled through her body. “BREEEEEED MEEEEEE!” Her pearly squirt spattered the table beneath her, spraying her thighs and legs.

Peter slammed himself down to the hilt, and Ororo felt his member madly twitching against her silky walls. A hot stickiness flushed through her insides, dousing her channel with a thick, gooey spurt. She swore she could hear the squelch of him repeatedly erupting inside her. He flooded her abused pussy with his potent seed, surely impregnating her unprotected womb.

Mouth agape, eyes wide with horror, she felt her channel stretch to accommodate the sheer amount of cream. There was so much more than she’d ever taken before, and it felt magnificent.  Sweat dribbled down Ororo’s face as an unwanted warmth blossomed in her cunt. She craned her neck back to let loose a cry of ecstasy as another orgasm wracked her tired form.

As the next powerful spurt of cum claimed her womb, Ororo squeaked like a kitten and squirted a thin stream of nectar. Her pussy squeezed around him, gripping him tight, sealing his cum inside. Her body took over, doing what was natural, and milked the last dregs of pearly cream from his wonderful cock.

Her head in the clouds, Ororo swam in the euphoria, soaking in it like a warm bath. Her whole body felt like a great weight had lifted off her.

And then clarity hit.

He’d cum inside her.

“Goddess…” Ororo gasped, feeling his hot cum oozing around inside her channel. “No… no…”

“There it is,” Peter sneered, “post-nut clarity.”

“Wh-why did I… how could I…” Ororo started.

“Mull that over for a while,” Peter stroked her left breast, “You’ll have plenty of time.”

He pulled out, plopping from her tight lips, and Ororo felt the ooze of fresh cum slip down her legs.

“P-Peter?” Ororo stammered, hearing him moving further away. “W-Wait! Peter! Wait!”

CLANK

The door. He was opening the door.

“Peter!” Ororo cried, “Don’t leave me! Please!”

“Hmm?” he asked before gasping. “Oh, thanks for reminding me.”

The lights went out, and Ororo was lost again in the dark.

“Don’t you hate it when you leave the lights on?” he chuckled.

CLANK

The door was closed.

“Peter?” Ororo asked the darkness, cum slipping down her inner thigh. “I know you’re there… don’t do this…”

But was he there?

“Peter?!” She called, but the suit was still locking her in place. “Peter!”

Nothing.

He was gone.

Or was he?

She didn’t know.

How could she know?

“PETER!” She wailed, throwing her body against her immovable suit. “PLEEEEEASE!”

But no one answered.

When Peter returned to the control room, all the multiples of Rogue that’d been toiling away had collapsed on the floor. Their eyes shut, their tongues hanging out, and their bodies shivering. Some were dressed, others weren’t, and he was beginning to grow bored of seeing the same ass and tits wherever he went. She did have her uses, though, especially after she absorbed the abilities of the mutant named Forge. It seemed these ones had finally succumbed to exhaustion. He’d need to ask the original Rogue to absorb them and make more later.

Stepping over their unconscious forms, Peter approached the main control desk. Using Forge’s ability to build anything he could imagine, Rogue fashioned the perfect system for their new complex. A vast array of buttons spread over the console, with dozens of monitors perched above it. This was the nerve center of the X-Men’s new home.

The screens flickered on when he grew nearer, and Peter grinned as they began showing the cells of his new acquisitions. Students and faculty alike were sealed off inside specially designed cells, catered for their uncanny abilities. Some were more useful than others, but Peter was pleased with every member of his collection.

“I can help you.”

Peter sighed, rolled his shoulders, and glanced at the screen featuring a pathetic little man sitting in a dark, empty cell. Somehow, he always knew when Peter was watching. It might’ve had something to do with his natural genius, or it could’ve been because the little man knew this location so well.

Peter pressed a button for the intercom to the prisoner’s room.

“Don’t need it. Now shut up and eat your porridge.”

The prisoner staggered closer to the camera. He’d lost weight since Peter last saw him, which made sense since he acquired this place with help from The Hand almost a month ago. Still, the prisoner insisted on wearing that gaudy white suit and comically large bowtie.

“You really think you can keep all these little freaks under control?” the prisoner asked. “Or that some big hero squad won’t break in and bash your brains out? You willing to take hits like those? They smart! But I can help you avoid all those bruises. Face it, stranger. You need me.”

Peter chuckled.

“Something funny?” The prisoner snapped.

“Yeah,” Peter said, “Your biggest selling point is teaching me how to take a beating.”

“Dammit!” Arcade screamed, “You can’t just steal my shit from me! I made Murderworld! I built it from nothing! You can’t just cut me out of the biggest guest list it’s ever had!”

“We need your materials,” Peter said, a ripple of black seeping through the veins in his neck. "We don’t need you.”

“We?” The prisoner asked. “Is there someone else in that room? Hey! Whoever else is in there! I’ll make a deal with you! I’ll double anything he’s paying you!”

Shit. Peter slipped up again.

“Goodbye, Arcade,” Peter muted the prisoner and flipped off the screen. He caught his reflection in the glass. Turning his head from side to side, he inspected his handsome features. He looked healthy, as always. But he did wonder…

“We’re one step closer…” the symbiote hissed in his mind. “… why are you second-guessing yourself now?”

“They’re heroes—" he started.

“And yet they didn’t save you from me.” The voice chortled with glee. “If they cared enough and loved you enough, you wouldn’t be this way. Mary Jane, Felicia Hardy, Cindy Moon, the list goes on and on and on. You tried to reach them; you even fought me off once… but what did they do?”

“Nothing,” Peter whispered, “none of them saw the signs. None of them cared.”

“But I care, Peter,” the symbiote crowed, “I cared enough to follow you across worlds. And yes, I hurt you… but did I hurt you as much as her? As much as them?” The voice echoed within Peter’s head, “You matter to me. And without me, you’d be alone.”

“But we won’t be alone much longer,” Peter said, looking over all the screens of heroes before him. “There will be more of us.”

“And…?” the symbiote purred.

Peter looked at the screen showing Ororo. The crying goddess’s creampied pussy wept his fresh seed.

“We’ll make more of us.” Peter finished.

Chapter Text

RECAP: Peter promised a corrupted Rogue that she would get the sexually promiscuous Kate Pryde if she helped him conquer the X-Men. Now, in the depths of Murderworld, he makes good on the promise. 

Gently drawing back the foreskin, the brunette swirled her tongue around his salty tip. Trembling fingers nervously wove themselves through her hair as she delicately teased his barely legal flesh. Pressing her soft, pillowy lips against the head, she gave him a long and sensual kiss. Whenever he thought about his birthday, he’d think of her.

“K-Kitty,” the boy’s shaky moan shuddered from his throat.

Katherine could never escape the shadow of Kitty.

With the flip of a switch, she’d butchered a demon on Christmas Eve. Backed into a corner by the god of mischief, she’d threatened him into surrender. At one of the teams’ darkest moments, she’d led the X-Men to victory. She’d saved lives, ruined lives, and taken lives. The deepest reaches of space, hellish and angelic dimensions, and days of futures and pasts—she’d fought there and triumphed.

All of this before she turned eighteen.

Mentally, she’d stopped being that 13-year-old girl from Chicago when Charles Xavier arrived on her doorstep. While people called her Kitty, said she was Kitty, knew her as Kitty—she was Kate. So, why was it so fucking hard to get the students to stop calling her by her childhood nickname?

Drawing her lips from the moist tip of his cock, one gloved hand gripping the base and the other caressing his balls, she said, “It’s Kate, or we’re done.”

“R-right, Kate,” the golden-skinned Joshua Foley swallowed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t,” Kate’s tongue flicked his tip. “That’s why I’m still here.”

“Sh-should we take this somewhere else?” the boy asked, timidly glancing around the empty classroom. The moonlight shined through the windows, making the rows of desks cast long shadows. “Anyone could walk in on us.”

“I know,” Kate thumbed his cockhead, “and then I’d leave you here with your dick out. How’s that sound?”

“Please don’t,” Joshua whimpered, though his cock remained rock-hard in his grip. “If Rahne found out—”

“Ms. Sinclair is off on a humanitarian mission,” Kate winked, “She won’t be back for a few days.” Batting her large brown eyes, she asked, “Why? Would you rather wait for her?”

“No!” Elixir said a little too loudly.

“That’s what I thought,” Kate smirked, pumping her hand up and down his shaft. “Can’t pass up a woman who knows what she’s doing, right?” Kate’s strokes were agonizingly slow, just enough to keep him aroused but not enough to satiate his needs. “Tell me I’m a woman, Josh.”

“You’re a woman,” Joshua moaned, his head leaning back against the chalkboard. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

“You’re saying I’m not a little girl?” Kate asked coyly, lifting his shaft and burying her nose in his balls to breathe in his smell.

“N-no,” Elixir shook his head, “You’re a woman.”

“Has a little girl ever played with your balls like this?” Kate took one of his heavy testicles in her mouth and gently suckled on it.

“No!” Elixir squeaked, his knees shaking.

Kate released his ball from her mouth, “Does a little girl have a body like this?” Gripping the front of her yellow and black uniform, she phased it off her womanly figure, revealing her perky bust and tamed grove of curly hair. She hadn’t worn underwear beneath her uniforms since she was fifteen. Something about feeling unstable molecules between her lower lips kept her moist.

“No…” Joshua breathed, ogling her body like she was a goddess. “You’re so much—” His hand flew to his mouth as he struggled to muffle his scream. Kate had engulfed his cock and taken him down to the base in one swift move. Her nose nestled in his golden hair as she twisted her head side to side, gargling on his dick.

After a few quick pumps, she pulled off, dragging her tongue along the bottom. She kept pumping as she asked, “Say my name.”

“Kate,” Elixir moaned.

“Yeah?” She cooed, speeding up, “You don’t think I’m Kitty anymore?”

“No,” his breathing quickened, “You’re Kate!”

“Are you going to cum, little boy?” Kate asked, her hand a blur.

“Yes!” Elixir squealed, “Please!”

She loved it when they asked for permission. Pursing her lips, she blew across his cockhead.

“I can’t hold it!” Elixir wailed, his cock spasming in her grip and spurting a rope of pearly jizz over Kate’s face. The woman was quick to seal her lips around the head, her mouth quickly filling with the salty seed. Elixir wriggled as her tongue continued toying with him. Both his hands dug into her hair but didn’t make a move to drag her down further. He knew his place.

The boy slumped down the wall when he finished, sweat dotting his forehead. His cock popped from her mouth, but she kept his cum sealed inside. Joshua fell to the floor, panting, his jeans still around his ankles.

Kate eyed him like a predator, opened her mouth, and showed him his offering to her. With a little jerk, she threw her head back and gulped his soupy cum down. It slid down her throat, joining Elixir’s birthday cake from earlier.

“Kate…” Elixir groaned as she took hold of his deflating cock. “I need a moment—”

“You’ll be ready soon,” Kate twisted her palm over his tip, “That’s what I like about you boys. You’re always quick for more.”

“So, that’s what you see in her,” a man’s voice said behind her.

Kate readied to phase through the floor, abandoning Elixir to his fate, only to pause.

This isn’t what happened.

Yeah, she blew Joshua in the classroom and jerked him back to an erection. But nobody interrupted them. She remembered throwing him onto Emma Frost’s desk and riding him while he screamed in ecstasy, begging to cum. Then she left him covered in his cream before slipping back into bed, ready for Dust’s birthday tomorrow.

Tomorrow? No. This was years ago. Elixir was in his twenties now. Right? So when… what…

“She’s such a slut,” a familiar southern twang joined the other. “This ain’t nothing compared to what she did to Glob Herman.”

“How—”

“Boy has a prostate, don’t he?” Rogue asked. “Just a tap-tap, and he had his first orgasm.”

“Damn,” the man’s voice said.

Kate blinked, and the classroom was gone. Elixir was gone. Even the taste of his cum was gone.

Spinning around, she found herself in a white void. The woman jumped to her feet, surrounded by an endless and blinding sea of nothingness. Someone was toying with her head. Again.

“Hey, Kitty,” Rogue’s voice echoed around her.

“Rogue?” Kate clutched her bare breasts, turning every which way. “What’s happening?”

“God, you’re so pretty,” the southern belle cooed, “I’ve always wanted this, y’know? To put you in a cage and keep ya’ll for myself.”

“What are you—”

It all came flooding back. The attack on the school. The army of Rogues.

“Theirs my sweet Kitty, using that big brain of hers.”

“You can handle it from here?” A man’s voice asked.

“Won’t be a problem, sugah,” Rogue’s voice sang. “You take care with your plans and all.”

“Just don’t break her,” the man said. “I need her for later.”

“Rogue!” Kate shouted into the void. “Who was that?! Who are you talking to?!”

Nothing.

“Rogue! Answer me! Why did you—”

“Let’s see that one again. It’s one of my favorites.”

The world flashed around Kate, and suddenly, everything was reset.

Gently drawing back the foreskin, the brunette swirled her tongue around his salty tip. Trembling fingers nervously wove themselves through her hair as she delicately teased his barely legal flesh. Pressing her soft, pillowy lips against the head, she gave him a long and sensual kiss. Whenever he thought about his birthday, he’d think of her.

“K-Kitty,” the boy’s shaky moan shuddered from his throat.

Drawing her lips from the moist tip of his cock, one gloved hand gripping the base and the other caressing his balls, she said, “It’s Kate, or we’re—” Her hazel eyes flashed open. “Rogue. Stop it.”

“But you like this memory too,” Elixir stroked her head, Rogue speaking through him. “You love being in control, don’t you? You love being an independent woman and not the little girl everyone thinks you still are.”

“Rogue—”

“Suck the cock, you little bitch,” Elixir hissed. “We both know you’re going to do it anyway.”

“Why?” Kate asked, staring into the eyes behind Elixir’s eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to see your memories,” Elixir soothed, “I want every sordid thing you’ve ever done. Every dirty thought, every wet dream, every little drip that made those panties moist. I want it all. You’re an endless ocean of filth, Kitty. You’ve fucked your way through the school and across the galaxy to prove you’re not that ‘little girl’ anymore. Which makes you a well of experiences I can never have.”

“R-Rogue—”

“Shh,” Elixir patted her head like a child. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure we enjoy each one.”

Even after being a guest instructor for the X-Men, Peter accepted he’d never become familiar with every mutant. Students were constantly added to the roster, or someone returned to their memories, fell from space, or slid through a dimensional rift. Truly tragic were the ones who slipped between the cracks because they weren’t memorable enough to hold his attention.

For example, while the X-Man Sage fought off Rogue’s mental attack, she was quickly overpowered by one of the many duplicates spawned by his enforcer. And while it was tricky developing a way to keep her from accessing his computer system, it wasn’t impossible. Even if she wasn’t memorable, he was still prepared, which was why he was currently flooding her ‘supercomputer’ brain with every yottabyte of porn floating around the internet.

“G-gud,” Sage’s head hung over the back of her chair, her cybernetic glasses pumping every kink imaginable into her brain. Her naked body was drenched in sweat, her legs splayed open, and her cunt oozed into a growing puddle beneath her.

At this point, she didn’t even need the restraints anymore. The woman was a drooling mess, her brilliant brain inundated with an infinite amount of sucking, humping, bucking, and fucking. While he might not be able to overload a brain like hers, it was entirely possible to get her so hooked on pornography she couldn’t function without getting her 'fix'.

“M-mooooor,” Sage moaned, her swollen clit visibly twitching.

Peter leaned close to her and hissed, “Not until you—”

He was interrupted by a blinking notification on the screen.

“Watch some reruns,” Peter muttered, returning to his console and programming the computer to replay Brazil’s catalog again. Sage groaned behind him, her hips bucking as she squealed in delight.

Tapping the notification, Rogue’s face popped onto the screen. “Can you spare a moment, sugah?”

“I’m busy,” Peter said.

“I’d make time if I were you,” Rogue grinned into the camera. “I’m about to put the finishing touches on our kitty-cat. This’ll be something you don’t wanna miss.”

Peter heard someone shriek off-screen, “Rogue! Let me go, you bitch!”

The camera jostled.

SMACK!

“EEEEEEEEEEEE!” Kate shrieked.

“I know ya’ll like it when we scream like that,” Rogue blew a kiss into the camera, “This next one’ll knock those red booties off.”

It was true, Peter’s cock had swelled hearing Kate’s screams of misery. Was he really that predictable?

“I can clock out early,” Peter smiled. “I’ll be there in five.”

How long had it been?

For Kate, it must’ve been months trapped inside the white void, but it had only been an hour on the outside. Still, Rogue insisted on seeing the woman’s sexual exploits at least twice. Kate would be unaware in the first round, believing the memory was reality. The second time, Rogue would be whispering in her ear. Sometimes the woman complimented her technique, and other times, she scolded her for not living up to her potential as a true slut.

From a novice virgin to a seasoned expert, Kate relived each intimate moment in unbelievable clarity. Whether that be a gangbang of dozens or a quiet night home with her hand beneath the covers. Rogue left no stone unturned in her now weary and cum drenched mind.

Only after Rogue roused her and explained the situation did the woman realize how unbelievably screwed she was. Spread eagle and naked on a king-sized bed, wrists, and ankles manacled to the bedposts, Kate tried to shake her head free of the traitor’s grasp on her temples.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kate poured all her effort into phasing through the cuffs, but Rogue was tampering with her mind. “We can save the others. We can get everyone out of here! They’ll forgive you; we’ve done it before!”

“Nothing to forgive,” Rogue pressed her gloved thumbs against her friend’s head. “I like who I am. I like what it got me. And I certainly don’t want what’s waiting for the rest of ya’ll.”

“R-Rogue,” Kate swallowed and tried again, “Anna. Please.”

“Hush,” Rogue tapped Kate’s button nose. “This ain’t no fairytale. Sometimes people don’t get no happy endings.”

Kate's eyes darted around Rogue’s room. The walls were bare and made of metal, and it looked more like a containment cell than a bedroom. Only a dresser, vanity, and bed were around her. Stacks of dildos and toys lay everywhere, and the room reeked of sex. Had Rogue been playing with Kate’s body while she was under?

Just like a containment cell, the door buzzed before sliding open. A man with brown hair and a lab coat walked inside, eyeing the two naked women with indifference.

“You said you had something to show me?”

He sounded and looked so familiar. It took Kate a moment to place his face, but when it did, she snarled, “Parker!”

“You call him sir!” Rogue’s gloved hand gripped Kate’s nipple and twisted hard. The woman screamed as pain erupted through her chest. “Now apologize!”

“Fuck you!” Kate shouted.

“Apologize!”

“It’s fine,” Peter said, coming around to sit on the edge of the bed. “Let go of her, Rogue.”

“But sir—”

“I said let go,” Peter snapped, and Rogue did as she was told.

“Am I supposed to be thankful?” Kate snarked, though her nipple had stopped throbbing.

“Being an X-Man made you come into your own, didn’t it?” Peter asked.

“In more ways than you’ll ever know. I’ve been fighting evil since I was thirteen.”

“You started two years earlier than me,” Peter whistled. “I can see how that changes a person. It makes them stronger. Confident. Uncanny.”

“My pants are already off. No need for flattery,” Kate muttered.

“More of an observation,” he continued, “You see, I wonder what would happen if everything that shaped you just disappeared.”

“What?” Kate snorted. Two fingers touched her temples. “Wait. No. No!”

“Suppress everything after she discovered her mutant powers,” Peter said.

“Rogue! Don’t do it!” Kate kicked at her shackles. “You bitch! Rogue! Stop! No! I’ll kill you!” Rogue’s thumbs dug behind her ears, the southerner’s eyes locked with hers. “Don’t do this! Don’t!” Rogue closed her eyes, and Kate felt the familiar itch in her hypothalamus. “Please, Rogue! We’re friends! I’ll do whatever you want! Just don’t—”

Kate Pryde’s eyes closed.

Kitty Pryde’s eyes opened.

She winced, head throbbing, and blinked in the stark light above her. Usually, the loud rattle and whine of the L Train would rouse her before school, but not today. The ceiling was cold and metallic, the sheets weren’t her fluffy comforter, and her body was—

“EEEEEEEE!” Kitty screamed, gazing down at her naked form. She never slept in the nude; her parents would sometimes barge in unannounced, and she’d die of embarrassment if her dad saw anything. She went to cover up, but her hands were latched above her head, and her ankles were drawn to either side. Anyone could see anything if they—

Wait, when did her vagina get all hairy? And were her boobs bigger? And when did she get abs?

“What’s your name?”

Kitty yelped, suddenly aware of two strangers standing beside her. One was a man in a lab coat, and the other was a buxom woman without a stitch of clothing on.

“Mommy! Daddy!” Kitty wailed, tugging at the cold manacles. “Help!”

“What’s your name?!” The woman repeated.

“K-Kitty,” the girl whimpered, eyes brimming with tears. “Wh-where am I? Where’s my mom and dad?”

“Oh, I like this,” the man said with a smile. His hand landed on her knee, slowly dragging his hand up her thigh. “How old are you, Kitty?”

“Thirteen,” Kitty whimpered, “So-so you can’t do anything to me! It-it’s illegal!”

“We don’t care much for the rules, sugah,” the woman said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. Now, would you?”

Kitty shook her head dumbly.

“What are you gonna do with me?”

“I think that’s obvious,” the man said, his hands growing closer to her vagina. Kitty’s breath hitched; nobody had ever touched her there before. Only doctors, but they’d all been women. To think a man would so brazenly reach between her private parts was terrifying.

“Who are you?” Kitty asked, looking from one to the other. “Where am I?”

“Your home,” the woman said, almost sweetly. “This is your home now, and we’re your new Mommy and Daddy.”

“No…” Kitty trembled, her lower lip quivering, “You’re not them. Where are they?”

“They’re safe as long as you do as we ask,” the man said. “So, you start behaving, or you might never see them again. You wouldn’t like that, would you, Kitty?”

Again, Kitty shook her head.

“Good. So, who are we?” the man asked.

Kitty swallowed before answering, “Mommy and Daddy.”

“Fuck, that makes me hot,” her new Mommy moaned, rubbing her thighs together. Kitty had never seen a naked woman before; her breasts were huge, and her thatch of hair was glistening in the light. Kitty breathed in a strange smell. Was it the woman? Was that smell coming from her vagina?

“You know what this is?” the man asked, finger tapping the folds between Kitty’s legs. The girl squealed and tried to wriggle away, but the man only dragged his finger along her private parts.

“My vagina,” Kitty whispered.

“No, it’s a pussy,” the man said, “Or cunny. Say what it is.”

“Th-that’s my cunny,” Kitty gasped as the man prodded her sex.

“That’s your cunny… who?” the woman asked.

“That’s my cunny, Daddy,” Kitty felt sick, she wanted to sink through the floor and hide. But there wasn’t any escape from the two of these monsters. “Please stop touching it, Daddy.”

“You don’t want me to do this?” the man slipped his fingers up and down her pussy. Kitty screwed her eyes tight and tried to muffle her whimpers. She’d never touched herself down there before like this. This was wrong, and she wanted to throw up. But when the man’s rough finger touched a previously unknown part of her, Kitty cried out in surprise.

“Oh, I think she liked that,” the woman giggled.

What was that? It was so sensitive and raw. It made her head feel all funny, and her toes curl. But it felt good. Scary. But good.

“Wh-what did you do?” Kitty breathed.

“Just this,” the man brushed that same spot again.

“Ooooooooh!” Kitty moaned, her little body quivering. “Stop! Stop!”

“Are you scared, darling?” the woman asked, and suddenly, her gloved hand was on Kitty’s breast. “Maybe this’ll make you feel better.”

The woman rubbed Kitty’s nipple, a new wave of sensations sparked in the girl’s chest, and another moan ripped from her throat.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” Kitty moaned as the two strangers played with her body with more knowledge than she ever had. “No more! No more!”

“Beg me to stop,” the man said.

“Stop! Please!” Kitty cried as her head became cloudier and cloudier.

“Who am I?”

She gave them what they wanted, “Daddy! Please stop playing with my cunny!”

“But you still want Mommy to play with your titties?”

“N-no,” Kitty wailed, “Stop, Mommy! Stop!”

“You heard her,” the man said, pulling his hand away. “And she asked so nicely, too. You’re a very sweet girl, Kitty.”

“Thank you,” Kitty’s face reddened. Why had she thanked him?

“But look at the mess you made!” the man said, holding up his fingers, showing the wetness on them.

“I did that?” Kitty trembled. Had she peed? She didn’t mean to. She could still feel the phantom tingling of what he’d done with her earlier. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” the man said, “when little girls get horny, they make these messes. It’s proof you’re growing up.”

“I am?” Kitty asked.

“Yes,” the woman stroked Kitty’s face. “You’ll grow up to be quite the woman one day. But for now, you’ll be our little girl. Won’t you?”

That’s not what she wanted at all. But the girl nodded and said, “Yes.”

“Then you won’t mind if Daddy shows you what women are supposed to do, do you?” the man asked.

“I-I-I—”

“Just be good, and everything will be okay,” the woman said. “Can you be a good girl for us?”

“Yes,” Kitty said before hurrying out, “Yes, Mommy.”

“She’s still a fast learner,” the woman said.

The man ignored her, seemingly the one in charge. He’d slipped off his lab coat and let it fall to the floor. “Get her out of the cuffs.”

“You’re not going to try anything, are you?” the woman asked.

“No,” Kitty shook her head. “I’ll be a good girl.”

“I know you will,” the woman smirked. She first unlatched Kitty’s ankles, and the girl quickly clamped her legs shut. The woman only smiled as she undid Kitty’s wrists next. The girl’s muscles ached from being splayed out, but she quickly covered up her breasts.

Her breasts.

They were bigger. Not humongous, but bigger than how they’d looked when she fell asleep. All the girls at school made fun of her for having mosquito bites. Calling her flat-chested while their breasts blossomed. But these—

Kitty’s small hands couldn’t even hold them. They were just that big.

“What did you do to me?” Kitty whispered, in awe of their size. Sitting up, she realized they were heavier, too. It felt like they weighed her down.

“You had a growth spurt,” the woman said.

It was apparent she wouldn’t get a clear answer from either of them. No. She’d just need to be an obedient little girl, and maybe they’d let her go once they were done—

The man threw aside his shirt and shed his pants. Before Kitty knew it, she was staring at a man’s parts for the first time.

She scrunched her eyes tight, twisting her head away. She’d only caught a glimpse, but it was the most alien thing she’d ever seen. They weren’t even starting to go over the reproductive organs until next year!

“Look at Daddy, hon,” the woman said.

“No,” Kitty whimpered.

“Look at your Daddy!” the woman gripped Kitty by the ear. She was deceptively strong, dragging Kitty off the bed and onto the floor. The girl struggled to stay on her feet as the woman hauled her over. Kitty’s eyes opened, and suddenly, she was standing in front of a naked man.

“Look at it!” the woman shouted.

“I-I don’t wanna!” Kitty cried, trying to twist her head away.

“That’s a shame 'cause you’re about to get real close to it!”

Kitty squealed as the woman dragged her head down, forcing Kitty onto her knees. The girl’s eyes were suddenly level with the man’s thing. It was terrifying, hanging down between his legs like a monster. It smelled like something, too. Not bad, but strong. Musky.

“Kiss it,” the woman demanded.

“What?!” Put that thing near her mouth?! If it was anything like her lady parts, it was where pee comes from. She couldn’t put her lips on something so dirty!

“Kiss it, or you’ll never see your parents again,” the woman snarled.

The woman was all malice. She was telling the truth.

Kitty puckered her lips with a shuddering sob and inched closer to the man’s thing. It was just a quick peck, nothing more, but the moment her lips made contact, she nearly fainted. It was warm. Was it weird for her to be surprised it was alive? Whatever the case, she quickly pulled back and wiped her lips with her hand.

“I-I did it,” Kitty panted.

“Lick it,” the woman said.

“Please don’t make me,” Kitty pleaded.

“Lick it like a kitty cat,” the woman said. “And don’t stop until Daddy tells you to.”

With a little whimper, she stuck out her tongue and touched the hot skin of the man. Instinctively, her tongue slipped back inside her mouth, and she tasted him. He was a little salty, but not bad. It was more that the idea of what she was doing made her nauseous. But still, she stuck out her little tongue and began lapping at his member. Quick little drags across his flesh, like a cat, as she bathed him with her spit.

Was she doing a good job? What did doing a good job look like? She had no idea whether the man even liked this. How would she know if she was even doing this right?

“That’s my good, Kitty,” the man said, his fingers brushing her hair.

Suddenly, the man’s thing twitched and bopped Kitty in the nose. The girl shrieked, pulling free of the woman’s grasp and scurrying away.

“What did I tell you?!” the woman roared, stomping toward her. “What did I say?!”

“I’m sorry!” Kitty cried, covering her face, “It scared me! I didn’t know it did that! I didn’t know!”

“You’ll know plenty by the time—”

“Enough!” the man snapped, silencing them both. “Kitty, get on all fours on the bed.”

“D-Daddy—” Kitty started.

“Now!” the man barked.

Kitty scrambled back to the bed, climbing up on the mattress and getting down on her hands and knees.

“Face away from me,” the man sighed.

“B-but then you’ll—” They’d see everything. They’ll be able to look right at her little cunny.

“Do it.”

Sobbing, Kitty turned herself around, trembling as she pointed her butt in their direction. Her privates were vulnerable. Nothing was stopping them from seeing everything. She hung her head in shame as she heard the two moving closer.

Suddenly, two hands grabbed her cheeks. The girl gasped, feeling strong fingers dig into her flesh.

“This is your ass,” the man hissed.

Kitty yelped as he poked between her cheeks.

“This is your asshole.”

His thumb dragged down to her cunny.

“And this is your pussy. Who do these belong to?”

“You, Daddy,” Kitty breathed, eyes wide with fright.

“Good girl,” the man said, “Daddy’s cock is nice and hard for you. Say cock.”

“C-cock.”

“What did you do to Daddy’s cock?”

“I kissed it and licked it,” Kitty’s stomach churned.

“Because that’s what good girls do,” the man said. “And good little girls keep their cunnies ready for their Daddy.”

“Wh-what does that mean?” Kitty whispered, “How do I get ready for you?”

“You don’t need to do much,” the man said, “just be ready for this whenever you see me.”

Kitty screamed as something stiff and thick pushed between her folds. The girl tried to scramble away, but the man gripped her hips and held her still. She was about to kick him when his fingers dug into her flesh. She was about to beg him to stop when something happened.

“Ooooooh!”

What was that? What had she just said?

“Oh!” Kitty’s eyes widened as her body was suddenly wracked with some alien feeling. It was warm, no, hot. Like being dipped into a freshly made bath. Her privates were alight with new sensations that quelled her fears. It didn’t just feel good. It felt amazing.

“Do you like Daddy’s cock?” the woman asked.

“I-I-I—” Kitty’s mind went blank; she didn’t know what to say.

“Just stay still and let him do all the work,” the woman soothed, “Daddy is generous like that.”

True to her word, the man slowly filled Kitty up with his cock. The girl shut her eyes, focusing on the strange sensation of something going inside of her. She never imagined putting something into her body, much less her vagi—cunny. But her head was soon swimming in feelings, and her breathing was shallow and lusty.

“How is she?” the woman asked.

“Not a virgin,” the man muttered, “She might have the brain of one, but this thing has fucked around.”

“Wha?” Kitty mumbled. What did they mean? She was a virgin. She’d never even— “OHHHH!”

The man had jerked forward, and his pelvis slammed against her. Kitty’s elbows threatened to buckle as her deepest parts were crammed full.

“It’s fine,” the man sighed, “just means I can fuck her harder.”

“What does that mean?” Kitty asked.

“This!”

The man dragged his cock out and quickly slammed it back in. Kitty screamed as her sensitive spot erupted with pleasure. That’s what it was. Pleasure. Her fingers dug into the sheets, and her titties swung beneath her as the man pummeled her pussy with vigor.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” Kitty screamed as pleasure was forced into her.

The man continued slamming into her as Kitty gripped the bed for dear life. With one particularly violent thrust, her elbows gave out beneath her, and she faceplanted onto the bed. Her ass in the air, she could only wail into the sheets as the man continued fucking her tight little cunny.

Her little body was wracked with euphoria, and she was soon moaning into the mattress. Her lower half burned brighter than ever before. She was already tired, but the man just kept going. He kept thrusting in and out of her and bringing her pleasure to higher heights as ten minutes turned into twenty and twenty turned into forty.

A hand gripped her hair and pulled it up. The woman was staring into her eyes.

“You like this, don’t you?” the woman asked.

“N-n-n—”

“Don’t lie!” the woman snapped.

The man doubled his speed, and Kitty let out a moan right into the woman’s face.

“I like it,” Kitty blubbered, “I like it a lot!”

“Then thank him.”

“Thank you, Daddy!” Kitty cried, “Thank you for—” Her eyes widened. “Something’s happening! Something’s happening!” The warmth inside her was building hotter and hotter. “Somebody help me! I’m scared!”

“It’s going to be okay,” the woman patted Kitty’s cheek. “Just let it happen.”

Let what happen? What was—

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Kitty’s eyes rolled back as she screamed. She felt like she was exploding. It was hot and sticky, and her pussy squeezed around the cock inside her. He kept going, kept slamming into her little body as she wailed in ecstasy.

“She’s not gonna last much longer,” Rogue said, “If you wanna make her feel it, better finish up.”

The man roared above her cries. Suddenly, the cock inside her pulsed, and something hot burst deep within her cunny.

For some reason, she didn’t know why, Kitty screamed one word before fainting:

“Daddddddddy!”

Peter pulled himself out of the collapsed Kitty Pryde. A flood of cum oozed from her well fucked hole, spilling down her legs and pooling around her knees. His dick glistened in the light, and he considered waking the girl up to lick him clean.

“How was she?” Rogue asked, lying beside Kitty, a broad grin on her face.

“Fine,” Peter said, eyeing the woman over. “I can see why you like her.”

“Thank you for giving her to me,” Rogue smiled, stroking Kitty’s back.

“You don’t get her exclusively,” Peter smirked, walking over to his discarded clothes. “I still need her.”

“You can have her anytime you want,” Rogue nodded, “I know my place, sir.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Peter fished around his lab coat before pulling out his phone. “I need her to bring someone down.”

“Who?” Rogue asked. “I’m not sure how good she’ll be if I don’t set her mind right.”

“She’s exactly how I need her,” Peter swiped through files on his phone. “A wide-eyed, innocent little girl who needs a big, strong man to look after her.”

“I don’t see how—”

“Of course you don’t,” Peter snapped.

Rogue shrunk before him, trembling.

“But…” Peter’s voice softened, “Someday, I’ll tell you why.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rogue whispered.

As Peter left her room, he smiled to himself.

He now had one-third of the team needed to control Logan.  

Chapter Text

Nose pressed against the glass, Cindy Moon peered through the lab’s window in perverted fascination.

The Korean superhero’s hand slipped beneath her spandex waistband, traveling down her pelvis to tease her moist pussy lips. Her delicate folds still ached from her quickie with Daredevil only hours before. The man’s sexual prowess was undeniable, and maybe if Peter hadn’t gotten to her first, their rooftop trysts would’ve been genuine. But Cindy’s loyalties lay with her master, relegating Daredevil to one of her more talented superhero Johns. Her mission to distract the hero community by putting out came before personal pleasure.

But whoring herself out several times a day wasn’t unpleasurable either…

Within the lab, Peter adjusted the leather straps binding Jessica Drew to the cot. Their necessity was doubtful, given the woman’s mind was little more than tapioca, but an added precaution. Despite her current state, Jessica was an Avenger. The chances she could recover were slim but possible. For the moment, though, Jessica was nothing more than a drooling wreck subsisting on food from tubes and leaking the most potent aphrodisiac in the world.

Jessica’s toes curled when Peter reapplied the pump sealed around her hairy cunt. Shaving and bathing her wasn’t a priority, given her only purpose was pumping out pheromones. When not in her dog crate, Mary Jane had been tasked to keep the Parker household clean. That included giving the former Spider-Woman sponge baths. Now that most of Peter’s acquisitions had been moved to Murder World, Cindy was told Mary Jane spent more hours in her crate than out of it.

The thought of the bombshell of a redhead, locked away and unable to touch herself for months, had Cindy humping her fingers vigorously. Her libido had attained new heights, prompting constant masturbation between meetings with her Johns. Depravity had become her new normal.

“Is that Jessica Drew?”

Cindy yanked her hand from her tights like a little girl caught experimenting with herself. Spinning around, she immediately felt foolish. With wide hips swaying and bountiful tits out, one of the naked Rogues strode into the room. There was still a chance this one could be the original; since she’d absorbed Multiple Man’s abilities, it was impossible to tell them apart.

“Y-yeah, but we just call her Cow,” Cindy watched Rogue’s jiggling pale tit-flesh. The mutant's nipples were a shade lighter than hers, but their areolas were twice the size. Compared to Rogue, Cindy’s tits looked like mosquito bites. The more petite woman couldn’t help comparing herself to the southern bombshell. Ass cheeks wobbling and tits jiggling, the mutant was more curves than person.

“So that’s where Sir gets the pheromones from,” Rogue’s pressed her massive tits against the glass, mashing her nipples flat to get a closer look. “Carol Danvers is gonna throw a fit when she sees Jess like this. I hope I’m around when it happens.”

“Um…” Silk didn’t keep the pretense of looking the woman in the eyes, instead openly drinking in the mutant’s flesh. Gradually, Cindy’s mind retrained itself to ogle at tits, ass, cunts, and cocks since she’d become Peter’s acquisition. “I wanted to thank you for helping me move the others here. I know we haven’t spent much time—”

“Sir ordered me to do it,” Rogue shrugged. “That’s reason enough. Though, I did need to take a shower after strapping Felicia to the bathroom wall.”

“She’s Urinal now,” Cindy said. “Just Urinal.” 

“Sure, smells like one,” Rogue snickered before cocking an eyebrow. “Y’know, there's about fifty of me running around Murder World. If I time it right, she could be occupied for most of the day. Granted, I make sure we drink enough.”

Cindy’s clit throbbed, imagining a line of Rogues outside of Felicia’s stall, the woman gargling fresh piss.

“Might be the psychic in me, but I reckon you liked that,” Rogue smiled slyly. “Y’know what? You’ll love what else Sir’s got going on around here. Wanna tour?”

“Yes!” Cindy couldn’t hide her excitement. Ghost Spider had already been here a few times; the alternate Gwen taunted her nonstop about the carnival of perversion going on within the hidden base. Like everything else nowadays, Cindy’s imagination ran wild with debaucheries. The chance of seeing them firsthand was too tantalizing to pass up.

“Alright then,” Rogue gestured to the doorway. “Welcome to Murder World.”

Having rarely crossed paths with many of the X-Men, Cindy never truly appreciated how many of them there were. She’d spent a large portion of her life locked in a bunker, so much of this world remained uncharted territory. Mutants weren’t nearly as prevalent before she was sealed away, but now they were everywhere. Yet, she hadn’t been around large groups of them until Murder World.

“Whoa…” Silk looked over the expanse series of cells beneath the metal catwalk. The rooms beneath them were set up like honeycombs, their ceilings transparent, allowing her to watch everything within. Like bees, Rogues soared overhead, flying from one cell to another.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, Sugah,” Rogue laughed, strutting ahead of her. “Just wait until we get to one of the control rooms so you can get up close and personal.”

“What’s happening in this one?” Silk asked. Peeking over the railing, she spotted what looked like a girl made entirely out of metal, inserting something that looked like a glass sphere into her stretched asshole.

“The metal one is Mercury,” Rogue waved her hand dismissively. “Small one is No Girl.”

“No Girl?”

“She’s the brain in the jar being shoved up the other’s ass,” Rogue said. “Neither are affected by the pheromones, but Sir is planning something big for them. Has them doing exercises for now.”

“And No Girl needs to be in her ass because…?”

“I think Sir thinks it’s funny,” Rogue shrugged. “Most of these are Sir experimenting with the pheromones. How they affect morality and perception. Most mutants have some training against psychics, and they’ll eventually break my control. Jessica’s pheromones are a whole other animal.”

“No wonder he’s been milking her for so long,” Cindy looked out over the literal theme park-sized prison.

“You gonna keep gabbing, or you wanna see the shows?”

“Shows,” Cindy grinned.

Hisako Ichiki needed to do better.

The Japanese girl’s bare knees dug into the cold metal floor of her cell. Her small and slender fingers couldn’t even wrap around her partner’s mammoth cock. But Armor needed to try. For the sake of their sanity, she had to be a better sexual partner than she’d ever been before. She stroked up and down the shaft, teased the frenulum with her tiny thumbs, and massaged his heavy balls.

“B-better?” Hisako whimpered, looking up into his eyes.

“I barely feel you,” Piotr Rasputin grunted, a pained expression in his eyes. “Please, try harder.”

The petite girl felt so tiny beneath the mountain of a man. She was slight, short, and looked like the typical Japanese schoolgirl. Meanwhile, Piotr looked like Michelangelo carved him out of marble. The man looked like he was constantly flexing. While their nakedness was embarrassing, the fact his pecs were bigger than her minuscule bust was more so.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to suck on it, Mr. Rasputin?!” Armor begged, squeezing his cock harder. “Or should I try spitting on it again?”

“No!” Colossus groaned, “I am having hard time controlling myself. Should you do that again—”

Hisako swallowed; she knew what that meant. The man had been so respectful of her since they’d woken up. Both were naked, and he refused to look in her direction and gave his student all the privacy she needed. Awkward as it was, she never caught the kind Russian sneak, even the slightest peek.

Pouring all their time into escaping, both quickly discovered there was none. Besides their abilities being inhibited, the walls were impenetrable, made of one solid piece of metal. But whoever captured them hadn’t sent them there to die. Food and water appeared in a puff of smoke three times a day. Someone wanted them alive; they just had to wait until they were freed or their captor made a move.

But as time went on, a change washed over them. It started small, with both questioning whether the temperature had increased. But when her nipples stiffened, and her pussy leaked liberally, she knew what their captor was doing to them. And, as much as Piotr tried to hide it, his problem was a lot bigger than hers.

Again, it started out small. They both picked a corner and released their urges as quietly as possible. It wasn't easy without any material, but Hisako eventually came while turned away from her teacher.

“O-okay…” Hisako wiped her sticky fingers on the wall. “Are you—”

She turned around just in time to see him cum. It was massive. Both what it was and what came out of it. He was over a foot long and thicker than her wrist, his skin smooth and pale. The girl’s eyes grew watching the blast of white sludge spray against the wall. It was thick and slimy, and it just kept going. Quiet as Piotr was trying to be, she heard him grunt.

Hisako watched him finish on the wall. She felt filthy, spying on a good man, but at the same time—

“One moment,” Piotr breathed, his firm cheeks clenched as he squeezed the last of his cum out. “You are finished, yes?”

“N-not yet!” Hisako squeaked, her fingers flying back to her pussy. God, she was drenched again. “Just-just stay there. I wasn’t finished!”

Their relationship devolved from there. It wasn’t exactly fair for her to watch him and not the other way around, so they began masturbating to each other. It was flattering how such a strong and powerful man was getting off to her body, but they were both aware of how wrong this was. Not like that stopped them from doing it over and over again.

But after a few days, it just wasn’t enough. Every time she finished, she wanted more. Her orgasms were less fulfilling, her needs left unmet, and she knew he felt the same. One of them had to broach the issue, and she knew it wasn’t going to be him.

Which brought them to now.

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Rasputin…” Hisako’s eyes glazed over. It was right in her hand, all warm and throbbing. She couldn’t pass up a chance like this, not after she’d been lusting for it for so long. “I can’t help myself!”

The girl slipped her lips over the head. Her tongue flicked over it, feeling a leather-like texture. She moaned around it, greedily sucking in the taste of him. She’d wanted this so badly, and now there was no going back. Hisako swirled her tongue around his stiff cockhead, drinking in the precum already leaking from the tip. It was so thick and savory, but she wanted the real thing.

Hisako gasped as a large hand pulled her head away. She whined, her tongue slipping out to search for him, but was pleasantly surprised when Piotr took her hand and guided her toward the wall. Her heart raced, her clit throbbed, and her pussy wept.

Planting her hands on the wall, Hisako pushed her ass out and parted her legs. Mammoth-sized hands traced her slim shoulders, ran down her smooth torso, and cupped her plump cheeks. Hisako mewled, loving the Russian’s firm touch on her soft body, which turned into a gasp upon his cock nestling against her folds. One of his powerful hands guided the fat tip to her entrance.

Never had she been with someone so strong, manly, and—

Huge.

If she hadn’t known it was him, she would’ve mistaken the head of his cock for a grapefruit. Mentally, she knew her teacher wasn’t nearly as big, but her body screamed otherwise. Even in her lust-induced state, Hisako’s panic began seeping through.

“W-wait…” the girl whimpered as Piotr attempted to jam his cockhead into her. “M-Mr. Rasputin…”

Piotr didn’t speak, only breathed, seething with desire.

He thrust upward.

“Mr. Rasputin!” Hisako squeaked, her frail body lifted off the ground. “Please! You’re too big!”

Once so kind and gentle, the hand on her hip clamped down. His thick fingers dug into her flesh, making her squeal. The pressure on her pussy grew, but her opening remained tight and small.

“It won’t fit!” Hisako shrieked.

Suddenly, Piotr gripped one of her legs and hauled it upward. Hisako screamed, her muscles near tearing as she was forced into a standing split. Agony seared her poor tendons as her foot abruptly rose above her head. Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes; her body slow to accommodate to the pain. Thrashing beneath him, she didn’t even realize the pressure against her cunt had increased until his head wedged itself inside.

“EEEEEEEEE!” Hisako shrieked, her teary eyes bulging. “NO! Out! Out!”

“Silence!” Piotr’s bellow shook her bones. “You will be silent!”

Hisako kept screaming, kept flailing, right up until Piotr slammed her chest into the wall. The wind knocked out of her; the girl wheezed through her agony. The man kept her pinned between the wall and his cock, squeezing her like a vice.

“Tight like Katya,” Piotr grunted. “You will stretch.”

Hisako prayed to her ancestors that was true.

Tabitha Smith didn’t choose the monikers Boom Boom and Meltdown for kicks.

Like her powers, the woman’s personality was explosive. If she couldn’t do it better, she’d sure as hell do it bigger. It wasn’t unusual to wake up after a party half-naked and reeking of cheap booze. The number of cars, boats, and planes she’d taken for joyrides was in the hundreds. There was nothing she wasn’t down to try, at least once, for the chance of having a good time.

But after three minutes with Hank McCoy, she’d more than had her fill.

Tabitha dragged herself across the floor; her entire lower region had gone numb. The girl’s sunshiny blonde hair draped over her crazed eyes like wet seaweed. Her sore breasts dragged beneath her, her rubbery nipples screaming from their torture moments ago, but she pushed through the pain. She had to put as much distance from that monster as she could.

“Ms. Smith,” despite his distinguished manner of voice, it took everything to smother her scream. “May I ask where you’re attempting to scurry off to?”

He phrased it as a question, but she could sense the menace.  

“N-nowhere, Sir,” Tabitha stammered. “I was being stupid. I’m sorry.”

“No apologies necessary, my dear,” the man called Beast said. “I deduced you’d try to escape while I enjoyed a brief respite from our jovial activities.”

“J-jovial?” Tabitha asked, “You think any of this was jovial?”

“Excuse me for assuming you shared in my frivolities,” Beast chuckled. “I suppose I wrongly ascertained my euphoria was infectious. You did climax, didn’t you?”

Tabitha blushed shamefully, “Yes.”

“Then I don’t see what the issue is,” Beast’s large hand gripped her shoulder and flipped her onto her back. His foot parted her legs, revealing how thoroughly his cum had basted her inner thighs. “If anything, I—” he stopped. “Look at me.”

Tabitha hid behind her fingers.

“I said, look at me.”

With trembling hands, the woman peeked around her digits. Beast’s blue lips were curled back into a mean snarl, his eyes were utterly black, and drool seeped from his maw. Whatever the pheromones had done to her, they’d affected Dr. McCoy in ways she couldn’t even fathom. The man had given way to some bestial monster lingering within.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Beast asked, his clawed hand dipping between her legs to caress her sex. Tabitha shuddered, feeling his furry appendage brush along her pink flesh. She hated how good he was at this and knew her body would respond to him in moments.

“Please, Sir,” Tabitha whispered. “Gentler?”

“Ah, so that was the issue,” Dr. McCoy nodded, her claw gingerly circling Tabitha’s clit. The woman felt herself melting into his touch. “Perhaps I’d consider dialing back my exuberance if you’d do me the pleasure of…”

She hated knowing what he wanted.

The woman cupped the underside of her breasts, hoisting them up before dropping one after the other in tandem with saying, “Boom. Boom.”

“Again,” Beast hissed.

“Boom. Boom.” She let her tit-flesh jiggle for a man she no longer considered a friend. “Boom. Boom.”

Beast chuckled; right before he roughly gripped her hips and hauled her onto his cock. The woman screamed, her back bent awkwardly. One clawed paw gripped her hair and dragged her upward. Her arms flung around his furry shoulders as he bounced her up and down on his inhuman cock.

The thing inside her felt alien, unlike any normal dick she’d taken. It turned her stomach, knowing something that looked like that was inside her. The woman buried her face in his fur, trying to ignore the strange ridges as it pounded her already abused cunt.

No amount of pheromones could get her past this horribleness.

“Keep going,” McCoy growled.

Tabitha sobbed, “Boom… Boom… Boom…”

Glowing black fists gripped the edges of Megan Gwynn’s rainbow wings. Sunspot’s powerful fingers threatened to shatter them into bits, but he was more preoccupied with breaking in the girl’s tight asshole. No matter how much Pixie screamed, the man’s rapid thrusts continually rocked her tiny body. Her legs gave out long ago, her wrists were shackled behind her back, and her body was held aloft by Sunspot’s hold on her most defining features. Voice hoarse and raspy, Megan’s throat rattled out a weak plea.

“… h-help…”

But all Alison Blaire could do was whisper words of comfort to the suffering girl.

The adamantium shackles kept the blonde popstar’s legs apart and arms trapped behind her back. The two were inches apart, face to face, close enough to watch her favorite fan’s head droop lower and lower, consciousness fading. Megan’s face rested between Dazzler’s breasts and used them as cushions. But that didn’t stop Sunspot from pumping faster, jostling Pixie’s head in her cleavage.

A strong hand traced the small of Dazzler’s smooth back, tickling her spine, before cupping her ample cheek. The mutant shuddered as the same fingers slipped between her legs, toying with her delicate folds.

She hated how she responded to his touch, but she was never a strong woman. In the beginning, she tried to fight and rally Pixie’s breaking spirit. But as sessions continued, her fortitude failed. Especially with Peter’s undeniable talent.

Peter Parker’s cock nuzzled against her entrance, his tip doused in the sweet aphrodisiac honey. Her body flooded with pleasure, an escape from this nightmare. The popstar humped backward, her lower lips slipping around his cockhead.

“Now, be a good girl,” the man’s hot breath brushed her earlobe. “Drink it in.”

Dazzler moaned obediently. Technicolored lights shimmered around her naked body, warming her cold flesh. Her body guzzled the depraved sounds of Sunspot fucking an unconscious girl, her mutant abilities converting it into energy. Ever since Alison awoke in this hell, she’d done nothing but drink the screams, moans, and squeals of her friends breaking and being broken.

“Ohhh,” Alison cooed as Peter fed more of his length into her moist channel. Warmth from pleasure and power mingled together into a euphoric puddle. It pooled into the center of Dazzler’s core, bubbling inside her like magma. Eyes shut, she rocked back and forth on his cock, the aphrodisiac on his glans steadily bringing her closer to release.

Then Peter pulled out.

“No!” Dazzler cried, “But it back in, Sir! Please!”

He ignored her; his fingers danced along her silky skin in tantalizingly slow strokes. Her gaping pussy ached with need, dripping arousal on the floor beneath them. She thrust back, wiggled her hips, and humped the air. She had to feel something. Anything to get her—

The rhythmic clapping of Sunspot’s pelvis smacking against Pixie’s bubble butt sent tingles to her clit.

Alison shuddered, and her eyes widened.

Pleasure from sound? No, it couldn’t be. Sound only fueled her power; it had no effect on her libido. Unless…

“You’re sick,” Alison whispered, recalling all the times he’d fucked her with the aphrodisiac while her teammates screamed. Somewhere along the way, he’d conditioned her body’s arousal to respond to sound.

“Maybe,” Peter said. “The question is, are you as sick as me?”

In her sleep, Pixie whimpered.

Alison’s clit buzzed in response.

Her pussy screamed for attention, but Peter had stepped further away. The woman’s pussy thrummed along with each of Pixie’s claps. Roberto’s grunts teased her clit, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

Alison swallowed, what she was about to do was selfish and cruel. Borderline evil.

But she wanted it.

Alison jerked her body backward, letting Pixie’s head fall forward. The girl woke with a start from the sudden whiplash, once again thrown into the jowls of agony. Eyes brimming with tears, the girl let out a weak cry. It was soft but strained and pathetic, and it strummed Alison’s libido like a fine-tuned instrument. Breathing deeply, Alison’s orgasm rekindled like a fire.

“Hurts…” Pixie whined.

“Louder,” Dazzler whispered.

“What?”

“Louder!”

The little girl cowered like she’d been struck. Her eyes wide, her lower lip quivered, and she tried to squirm away.

“N-not you too…”

It wasn’t enough; the girl’s pathetic whining wasn’t doing Alison’s pussy any good. The cries had to be loud and sexual; pained was even better. Dazzler’s wall of morality was quickly crumbling, but there was still enough to recognize the fear in her young friend’s eyes. It was just an orgasm, she didn’t need—

Sunspot gave Pixie’s ass a sharp slap; the girl squeaked in pain.

The sound hit Alison so hard she nearly toppled over; her pussy was alive with pleasure.

There was no going back.

“Fuck her harder!” Alison roared.

“No!” Megan screamed, but the die was cast.

Sunspot heeded Alison’s command and yanked Pixie’s wings back as he drove in deeper. The girl shrieked, her head craning back and mouth agape. The woman bathed in Megan’s screams, the warmth washing down her body and straight to her cunt.

“It can be better,” Peter hissed in her ear, and suddenly, the shackles over her hands were pulled away.

Maybe, in another world, she lashed out and attacked Peter with her abilities. In another world, she broke free, saved the X-Men, and stopped whatever plan the man had. But in this one, she reeled back and slapped Pixie across her tits.

The small girl wailed, hearty tears flowing freely from her eyes. But Alison wasn’t done; she locked her fingers around Megan’s nipples. Her nails dug into the sensitive buds before twisting them with a maniacal grin. Alison tugged hard; the girl’s little mounds forced into cone shapes.

More screams. More pleasure. 

“Oooooooh yessssssss!!!” Dazzler’s sparkling eyes rolled back.

Assaulted on both sides, Pixie’s eyelids began to droop, only for Alison to release her nipples and grip the girl’s pointed ears.

“More!” Dazzler screamed. “MORE!”

Pixie’s shriek reached new heights.

Sunspot let out a low growl; he was close.

Yanking Megan’s face to hers, the woman locked their lips together in an unwanted kiss. Megan’s screams echoed down Alison’s throat, filling her lungs with the same taboo euphoria. It was like her wails vibrated straight to her clit, driving more pleasure to her than ever before.

As a songstress, Alison had never heard something so beautiful.

She came hard.

Thighs quivering, the woman was about to crumble when Peter surged back inside her cunt. Held aloft by the cock inside her, Alison’s face mashed into Megan’s. Both mutants moaned and cried into one another’s mouths, though one from pleasure and the other from pain. Dazzler’s bountiful tits pressed against Pixie’s smaller ones, their nipples rubbed together. The cum drunk woman wrapped her arms around her fan, drawing her in for a deeper kiss.

When both men came in their respective women, Alison was still slurping the whimpers from Pixie’s mouth.

Leaned back and legs spread apart, Cindy panted on the computer chair.

The whole crotch of Cindy’s suit had soaked through. It clung tightly to her folds, giving her a prominent camel toe. While most of it was her juices, a good portion was from Rogue suckling at her through the thin fabric. For not being able to touch anyone, the woman was an expert at clothed cunnilingus.

“N-no more,” Cindy moaned, pushing Rogue away with a gloved hand. The show was over, anyway. According to the wall of screens, Peter had left Dazzler’s cell nearly ten minutes ago. “I can’t… I can’t catch my breath.”

“I take it you enjoyed it?” Rogue winked, her pink tongue running along her lips. “Glad to be of service.”

The door behind them swung open, and Silk spun around in time to see Peter coming up beside her.

“That was so—” Cindy started.

“Have Pixie and Sunspot returned to their cell,” Peter didn’t even look at Silk. “Send Elixir to heal the girl’s ass; it needs to be ready again by tonight. Make a note that while Dazzler absorbed most of the sound in the room, it still fell short of absolute silence.”

“Yes, Sir,” Rogue stood up, marching out from between Silk’s legs. “Should we put off testing with Siryn?”

“For now,” Peter muttered. “I was hoping we could try by tomorrow, but it might be a few days longer.”

“Sir?” Silk timidly asked. “Why do you need absolute silence?”

“I’m not a fan of certain noises,” Peter said, gritting his teeth. “A few people in the Baxter Building are acutely aware of that.” The man cupped her chin. “Which is partially why I asked you here. I need you to—" 

“Excuse me, Sir?” Rogue piped up. “She found us."

“Good,” Peter released his hold on Cindy’s face, continuing toward the monitors. “I knew we’d miss a few mutants. I suppose we should be lucky one was her.”

“Why?” Rogue asked.

“Because she hasn’t told anyone about us,” Peter grinned. “She thinks she can handle this herself.”

“Why would she think that?” Cindy asked.

“Because,” Peter flashed a grin, “she’s the best there is at what she does.”

Chapter Text

BEFORE

They were still warm when Laura got to them.

The young woman snatched the small bundle of cloth into her fist and scampered toward the nearest bathroom stall. The women’s locker rooms were empty around supper time, but she doubted any X-Man would’ve heard her noiseless footfalls even if they were right beside her. Twisting the lock until it clicked, Laura shimmied out of her skintight shorts and dropped them around her ankles.

Her prickly bush glistened with arousal; she hadn’t even bothered with the panties today for the occasion. Settling her plump rear on the cold toilet seat, she spread her knees apart and lay her back against the wall. Opening her hand, she gingerly lifted her prize with trembling fingers.

Jean Grey’s gym shorts.

They were damp from her recent workout and reeked from the redhead’s musky sweat. They were particularly dark around the crotch, and drool slipped from the corners of Laura’s mouth. Her fingers trembled; it was wrong. This wasn’t only a violation of trust but a violation in general. She needed to stop. She could still put them back and act like this… this…

Her heightened senses snatched a whiff of the sportswear. The dusky aroma was overpowering, and Jean’s salty sweat etched into the cotton. Mingled with the typical body odor lingered citrus from her soap, but that only accentuated the spicy musk emanating from the crotch. It was so intense, so addictive, so—

Laura shuddered as a bit of piss dribbled into the toilet water. She cursed under her breath; she couldn’t help it. When she finally worked up the nerve to ask the Professor for help, the man said her incontinence during arousal was biological. From the vast array of animalistic traits, she happened to pick up “females in heat mark more”.

Thankfully, Laura could expertly control her libido. Pissing herself in the presence of men and women would’ve trashed her reputation. However, when she permitted herself to cut loose, she made an absolute mess of her sheets. It was preferable to keep her needs tucked away for the sake of her roommate, but when her libido was triggered, the results were often… perverted.

Laura mashed the gusset of the shorts against her nose, breathing in Jean’s scent. The heavenly aroma oozed womanliness, flooding her brain with serotonin. It tingled the pleasure centers of her mind, knowing that Jean’s warm, sweaty pussy was pressed against the fabric, and Laura let her inhibitions go.

Her legs kicked beneath her as her clit throbbed. She buried her face deeper into the shorts, turning them inside out to breathe in more of the woman’s musk. It must’ve been Logan’s infatuation with the redhead, so she couldn’t get enough of Jean’s smell. God, she hated how quickly she got off on this. She hated it. She hated it. She hated—

Laura squeaked as her bladder let go.

NOW

The passageway thrummed as electricity danced through thousands of conduits. They lined the walls, floor, and ceiling, each pulse tickling the bottom of Laura’s bare feet. Even in utter darkness, her senses guided her through the tunnels.

Burning white light flooded the chamber, bathing Laura’s naked body. Blinded, she shielded her eyes to wait for whatever—

“How disappointing!” A familiar voice boomed. “They couldn’t even bother sending the mongrel. Instead, they sent his pup! But all will fall to—”

SNIKT!

When Laura’s eyes opened again, Doctor Doom's head fizzled on the floor. The lights behind the robot’s eyes dimmed, and the mouth twitched up and down unnaturally. The rest of the body stayed upright, arms crossed, and stance wide.

The kidnappers were thorough, using portals to abscond with her friends and family. But every atrocity left a trail. She half expected the X-Men to free themselves before she found them, but she wasn’t one to sit on her hands. Eventually, she tore the answers from a denizen in The Bar with No Name. Someone was hunting down spare inhibitor collars and the piece of shit sold the mystery man a few. He didn’t give a name, but he gave up a warehouse owned by a shell company.

The name of the company was Pinball Incorporated. The bastard couldn’t help himself.

Since carving into the tunnel beneath Murder World, she’d fought a Sabretooth, a Captain America with a Hydra emblem, Mr. Sinister, and Paste Pot Pete. All were robots barely a fraction as powerful as the originals. Her uniform hadn’t survived a blast from a Human Torch, but she didn’t need clothes to fight. If anything, using her claws was beginning to feel like a waste. But it’s all the little man knew how to do: hide behind his Tinkertoys and make them fight for him. Pathetic.

“Arcade,” Laura snarled, knowing the vile wretch was watching. “Send more.”

As if on cue, the wall beside her exploded in a hail of circuits and shrapnel. The woman threw her arms up, claws out, and teeth bared, only for her legs to collapse beneath her. Falling on her firm breasts, the woman retched and coughed as an overpoweringly sweet pheromone burned the hair from her nostrils. Immediately, she felt a trickle of piss leak down her inner thighs.

No! She had to fight it! She wasn’t an animal!

Smothering her libido, Laura sifted through her senses, forcing her mind to rise above the scent thicker than honey. Climbing to her feet, she wiped the piss from her leg and clenched her fists. The freshly made breach in the wall revealed a ventilation shaft, the rusty steel grate already partially pulled away.

She knew it was a trap, but that didn’t make a difference. It was a way forward, and she’d gladly take any hits to carve the smile from Arcade’s face. Steeling her nerves, the mutant sliced the grate aside, staring into the endless darkness of the vent.

Whatever came next, she was ready for it.

She was wrong.

The redheaded woman named Pretty sat cross-legged on the floor. She wiggled her large ass happily, her bountiful breasts swayed back and forth. The woman hummed a silly tune to herself while smiling like a worry-free little girl. Her long, flowing mane was done up in two long scarlet pigtails, which swished with every turn of her head. Grasped in both hands were two cheap plastic dolls, one a man and the other a woman. Pretty clacked their pelvises together, as Mr. Peter had done to many, many other girls.

Despite her mind being little more than cotton candy, the woman wasn’t oblivious. Given her lack of substantial memories, she knew her cognition was altered. At times, the grownups mistakenly referred to her as Jean. The name evoked a heavy sadness. Perhaps deep meditation would’ve drawn the woman who was to the forefront, making her whole again.

But thinking was hard!

And Pretty was happy being stupid!

Every day, she learned exciting new things from amazing people. When girls screamed themselves hoarse, it always meant to go harder. Men were always right, especially when she felt uncomfortable or things didn’t make sense. Most importantly, she was made for men to put stuff in, and it usually felt really good. With Kitty’s help, she was learning how to make herself feel good too. However, nothing compared to getting things stuffed in her.

So, when Mr. Peter or Mister ordered her to remain in an empty cell with her dollies, Pretty didn’t question him. Mister had been so good to her, and his friends were kind too. Why wouldn’t she do whatever they asked? So, she patiently waited in the center of a white metal room, buck naked.

“Please, don’t do this!” Pretty wiggled the naked girl doll, its head of blonde hair swishing. “You were my friend!”

“Shut up!” She answered in a gruffer voice, shaking the boy doll. “Keep your legs spread apart like a good little slut.”

“It hurts!”

“You’ll learn to like it!”

“Not there!”

Pretty clacked the plastic dolls together, making loud moaning noises.

“Cum, cum, cum, cum, cum, cum,” Pretty sang, making the dolls dance.

“Jean?”

Pretty squealed, dropping her dolls and scrambling around. She swore she’d been alone. Covering her face with her hands, the woman reasoned the stranger couldn’t see her if she couldn’t see them. But curiosity prevailed, and she peeked between her slender fingers.

It was a young woman, standing beneath a crudely carved hole in the ceiling, with long ebony hair and an angry-looking face. Her modest breasts and pale ass weren’t anywhere near the size of Pretty’s voluptuous proportions, but she was still hauntingly beautiful. Eyeing the long, sharp, and scary knives poking out from the woman’s hands; Pretty squealed.

“Jean…” shoulders hunched, and eyes narrowed, the stranger took a step closer.

“NOOOO!!!” Pretty shrieked and began rocking on the floor. “Monster! Get away!”

“I am trying to—” the monster closed in.

“No!” Pretty scrambled into the corner on all fours, ass wiggling. She curled up into a pale ball, making herself smaller. “Go away! Go away!”

The monster retreated a step, even sniffing the air like a beast, and then her shoulders sagged.

“What did he do to you?”

Pretty rocked, hugging herself tight, “This is a bad dream. This is a bad dream. This is a bad dream.”

“Hey,” the monster whispered, softer this time. “My name is Laura. What is yours?”

It could be a trick. Monsters trick people. But she was stupid, like Mister said, blurting out, “Pretty.”

“Christ,” Laura murmured, transitioning into, “You can look, Pretty. I am not going to hurt you.”

Pretty swiveled on her bare butt, turning away from her corner. The monster looked nicer now that she smiled. A sad smile, but a smile, nonetheless. Pretty grinned back, if only to be polite, and noticed the sharp things weren’t there anymore. Had she imagined them? She was stupid. Everyone reminded her.

“H-hello,” Pretty whispered.

With gentle and deliberate movements, the monster gingerly plucked the girl doll from the floor, turning it over. Then, again with a sad smile, she asked, “Is this yours?”

“Yes…” Pretty whispered shyly.

“What is her name?” Laura asked.

“That’s Emma,” Pretty said. “The real one lives in a dumpster, but I pretend she’s around.”

Laura stiffened, “You… saw her in the dumpster?”

“Yeah!” Pretty giggled excitedly, fear momentarily forgotten. “We feed her garbage twice a day! She’s super sad now, but she’ll eat anything!”  

“I see,” Laura breathed, then lifted the other doll. “And this one?”

“That’s Mister!” Pretty clapped her hands eagerly. “He’s the best!”

“Mister,” Laura’s dark brow furrowed, and she stared daggers at the doll. Pretty began recoiling again; Laura’s intensity could slice through steel. But then the woman’s face softened, “We should go now. Do you know the way out?”

Pretty shook her head.

“That is okay, we will—” Laura’s hands clapped over her face.

The woman dropped to her knees, coughing and wheezing. Her pale face reddened, and her long hair tumbled over her eyes. Pretty squeaked, scurrying away again, shaking as Laura violently retched. Was this some kind of monster thing?

“No…” Laura clutched her toned stomach, and Pretty gasped, seeing a trickle of pee spatter onto the floor. The woman’s face darkened to a dark red, and she scrambled to wipe the dribbles from her pussy.

“It-it’s okay,” Pretty tentatively crawled closer. “Everyone has accidents.”

“Stop…” though Laura uttered it to herself, rather than Pretty. Especially as the trickle grew to a stream.

That’s when Pretty caught a whiff of it. The happy, sweet scent produced by “The Cow”. The airheaded woman’s fingers flew to her cunt, manically pumping them into her pussy. The wet squelching, aided by her soft cooing, nearly drowned out Laura’s pee stream.

“What are you doing?” Laura uttered.

“Getting ready,” Pretty giggled, tipping her head from side to side. “He’ll be here soon!”  

Choking on the dusky pheromones, Laura clasped at her throat and stomach in a vain attempt to purge it from her body. Great chest shuddering heaves wracked her lean frame, but it was far too little and much too late. The scent invaded her system like a toxin, flooding her body as much as she was flooding the floor beneath her. Still, she fought back. She had to. She was a Wolverine.

“We need to leave,” Laura struggled out, her airway burning from the sweetness. Reaching out, she clumsily gripped Jean’s slender arm. The moment she did, euphoria flooded her core. Jean’s skin was buttery smooth, like silk beneath Laura’s rough fingers.

Intense training prepared Laura for her heightened sense of touch. Scientists reveled in inflicting intense pain with a pinprick; it forced her to acclimate. The instructors never explained the opposite effect, how wiping her pussy clean with a moist towelette once left her writhing in ecstasy. Her control improved upon joining Xavier’s, except around Jean. The slightest touch left her breathless, and the pheromones magnified everything.

The mutant moaned, and her thick thighs quaked like jelly. How was Jean so soft? She longed to seize those pouty lips with hers, fondle those teardrop-shaped breasts, and cup the source of those dusky spiced gym shorts. But Laura fought her depraved urges and summoned the strength to haul Jean off the ground.

“No!” Jean cried, still rubbing her pussy in anticipation of this new arrival. She tried to free her arm, but Laura clasped it with both hands. “I’m staying!”

“Come,” Laura growled, baring her teeth. Jean’s eyes widened, and Laura forced her face to soften. It was the pheromones, not her; they were drawing out something shameful. “You need to come,” she said.

“Not with you!” Jean shook her head, pigtails wiggling. “Don’t touch… don’t…” Jean blinked, “What’re you doing?”

Oh God, what the hell was she doing?

The knuckles of Jean’s right hand brushed against Laura’s dripping sex. The girl’s fingers firmly gripped around the redhead’s armpit, holding it still as she ground her cunt against the woman’s soft hand. Trapped between her legs, Jean had no choice but to hold still as Laura smashed her lower lips atop her arm. Jerking her body forward while making low grunts, the clone hurriedly humped the redhead's limb like it was the a armrest or pillow. Her face screwed up with determination, she felt her mouth opening to pant.

“Oh!” Jean gasped, “You’re like a puppy!”

“No,” Laura struggled out, wrestling to regain composure. Her mind was awash with depraved and basic wants, all fighting for dominance against her higher needs. She NEEDED to escape with Jean, but she WANTED the redhead’s knuckle to graze her clit for hours.

“Are you itchy?” Jean asked, tilting her head to the side. “Do you need pets?”

Before Laura could object, Jean’s hand flipped over, and her fingers wiggled against the clone’s sex. The wind was knocked from the girl’s lungs as she clamped her legs around the woman’s hand and released a hard, guttural groan. It was just a pet, a little twitch of her fingers, but it was enough to send Laura tumbling to the floor.

Jean yelped; her arm dragged along for the ride as Laura lost herself to primal desires. The girl was on her back now, her tits pointed up at the ceiling. She panted like she’d run a marathon, but in reality, she was forcing the woman’s arm between her legs like it was a humping post. Her mind, clouded with lust, spilled over onto the floor. She was so close to cumming all it would take was for Jean to curl her fingers.

“Such a good puppy!” Jean giggled. With her other hand, she rubbed Laura’s breasts like a dog. Her fingers brushed against the girl’s nipples.

Laura moaned at a higher pitch than she’d ever done before. Her arms released their hold on Jean’s arm, spreading open and baring her pussy to the world. A jet of squirt shot from her cunt, creating an arc, before spattering back on the floor. A pool of piss grew beneath her; her bladder having let go.

Her mind burned with taboo knowledge as she rode out her orgasm. The scent of Jean’s pussy mingled in the air. It was a deep, musky scent of a woman, and she slurped it up like she was starving. It fueled her pleasure to heights no gym shorts could achieve.  

Her face flushed, her eyes clamped shut, and her mouth gaping open; Laura would’ve been content to lie in a puddle of her own fluids and wait for the never-ending orgasm to subside. But Jean had gone from rubbing her tits with one hand to using both. The woman’s sticky fingers massaged her pert breasts and belly like she was a dog, and for the first time, Laura felt no shame in allowing herself to be used like an animal. She whimpered, the toying with her nipples so good it nearly hurt, and her legs kicked beneath her.

“Looks like I found your favorite spot!” Jean laughed, massaging Laura’s buds.

“P-p-please,” Laura gasped, her cunt still spasming in a never-ending orgasm. “No more!”

With her head on the floor, Laura pried her eyes open in time to see the redhead’s pussy only inches from her face. She saw the red hair damp, the fleshy folds glistening in the stale light. They looked so juicy, so suckable that Laura’s tongue slipped from her mouth like a hungry puppy.

“And I just mopped,” a new voice mused.

“Mister!” Jean scampered away, leaving Laura sweaty and gasping for air.

Despite nearly losing herself to lust, Laura rallied her hazy faculties and clumsily flipped herself over. Her whole body ached after being wracked with such a powerful orgasm. It took everything in her to force her knees not to wobble. She could still catch his familiar scent, even with her senses burning from pheromones.

“Spider-Man,” Laura snarled, baring her teeth and fists. Outside his red and blue suit, he looked different, but that wasn’t what caught her off guard. She always pictured him smiling beneath the mask in her limited time around him.

But he wasn’t smiling.  

“You are not Arcade,” Laura hissed.

“Thank god for that, right?” Spider-Man asked. “I tell jokes, he is one.”

“Mister! Mister!” Jean, kneeling on the floor, parted his lab coat and wrapped her arms around his legs in a warm hug. Her breasts mashed against his pants and her face pressed against his fly, breathing him in. “Who’d you fuck today?”

“Don’t worry your stupid little head about it,” the man gripped one of her pigtails and hauled her face out of his crotch.

Instead of expressing a hint of pain, Jean simply giggled as she was dragged around, “Stupid, stupid, stupid! I’m so stupid!”

“Answers,” Laura growled, sickened by the depraved show. “Now.”

SNIKT!

“Oh my, what big claws you have,” the man joked, still not smiling. “We just gonna pretend you weren’t pissing yourself a second ago?” Spider-Man chuckled, though his eyes remained placid. Almost like they were dead. A sudden swell of fear rose within her chest. Her eyes told her she was looking at a man, but her senses relayed something else entirely.

“What are you?” Laura dug her bare heels into the floor.

“The mask slipped, didn’t it?” Spider-Man huffed. “It’s been getting harder and harder lately. I would’ve loved this to play out the way I wanted, but I haven’t slept in weeks, and I think it’s getting to me.”

An inky black tendril lurched from Spider-Man’s chest and wrapped itself around Jean’s neck. The woman gagged, but kept her arms at her sides.

“Stop,” Laura’s eyes flitted between the two. “Stop now!”

“Give me four reasons to,” Spider-Man said.

Laura retracted her claws in an instant.

“Good girl,” for the first time, his face imitated something close to a smile.

“You said you would let her go,” Laura watched Jean’s face redden. “Do it.”

“Sure,” he said, “but I want something in return.” As a display of authority, he strode toward her, the tendril still wrapped around Jean’s slender neck. Laura knew all it would take was one twitch to end her life. So, she held still, arms at her sides, even as he cupped her drenched cunt. Laura refused to flinch, glaring defiantly as the monster began slapping her sex.

“Now that sounds juicy,” he seethed. “I’m going to try it out.”

He might as well have been talking about putting on a boot. That’s all her intimates were to him.

“Fine,” Laura said, watching as Jean began to struggle. “Let her go.”

“Just so you know,” Spider-Man whispered in her ear, his breath smelled like spearmint, “this thing stays alive long after I’m dead.”

The tendril released Jean, the woman letting out a loud gasp and a flurry of coughs. She clutched her neck, now marked with red. Tempting as it was to gut him then and there, Laura took him at his word. Jean could still be in danger.

Blackmail. A coward's resource. Had he done the same to Jean? What about the others? It didn’t matter; she kept her composure while he thumbed her lower lips. She didn’t blink when he gripped her tuft of pubic hair and gave it a hard enough tug; her pelvis lurched.

“My, you are resilient,” he said, flicking away some hair he tore free.

“I am not scared of someone who calls himself Spider-Man,” Laura said emotionlessly.

“Then call me Peter,” he said, “it’s easier.” Turning his back to her, he plucked something off the ground. Again, Laura yearned to sink her claws into his shoulder blades but miraculously held still.

Peter returned, holding a similar item to something at the Hellfire Club. It was a pink leather dog mask, with a snout and a zipper over the mouth. He playfully twisted the bdsm headgear back and forth, the leather ears flopping around. The neck was affixed with a metal collar, a blinking red light on the side. Whatever reaction he was going for, she wouldn’t give it. She knew an inhibitor collar when she saw one.

“You want me to put it on?” Laura asked, her voice measured.

“That would be telling,” Peter said, tossing it at Jean. The woman clumsily caught it before smiling like a child at her accomplishment. “Now, be the dumb, obedient animal you are and get on all fours.”

Laura obeyed, sinking to her knees. Her palms were flat on the floor, her plump ass pointed out, and she spread her legs apart. He’d take what he wanted, but she would never give him the satisfaction of even a whimper. Still, part of her couldn’t help flinching when she heard the whine of his zipper.

Getting behind her, Peter ran his hands over her ass. She knew she wasn’t anywhere on the level of Rogue or Ororo, but it was tight and firm. Laura never cared about how her body appeared; if it was functional, she was pleased. But as Peter went from mauling the flesh of her backside and trailing up her slender waist, she was suddenly very conscious of how he perceived her body.

Still, he could call her an animal; it was nothing new. Anti-mutant slurs, misogynist remarks, “diet Wolverine”, it was nothing she hadn’t heard before. Even as he fondled her firm breasts, tweaking her nipples, the girl stayed stoic. As the head of his cock prodded her opening, she waited expectantly for the rotating insult of the week.

“You should go back to the petri dish,” Peter said.

Laura’s mouth popped open for only a moment, but in that moment, Peter shoved himself inside. She released just a wheeze, but it was enough that she knew it would grant him some satisfaction.

Pleasure assaulted her with intensity she should’ve been attuned to, having had sex before. But Peter’s length and girth dwarfed previous partners. It stretched in ways she wasn’t prepared for, and his touch battered her heightened senses. Only her disgust smothered her orgasm.

“I’m sure people have told you you’re not a real person, right?” He asked, sliding himself deeper inside her cunt. “But you’re not a weapon either. That gives you too much importance.” Peter’s hands slid down to her waist, clamping down on her hips. “You’re not even good enough to breed.” You thrust deeper, plowing through her insides. “Can a clone even have kids?”

Laura’s eyes flashed open. She’d never thought about it before. She hadn’t considered becoming a mother, but did she even have the option? The thought made her feel vulnerable and queasy. She lowered her guard just enough to let the pheromones sink into her system. Unwanted sensations flooded her core as his cock rubbed against spots she was only vaguely familiar with.

“All that tampering just to make a loose hole,” Peter sighed. “Kitty was tighter and she’s a slut. They made you all wrong. What kind of person pisses themselves when they’re turned on? You’re broken.”

“Stop,” Laura whispered, her pussy close to spasming. Her already doused channel leaked liberally, a trickle traveling down her thigh. Was it arousal or piss? She couldn’t tell, and it scared her. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be swept away.

“What was that?” Peter asked. “Don’t tell me you’re upset. You never considered all the things they messed up?” He groped her ass, “This could certainly be thicker, those areolas are too big, and this cunt still isn’t tight. You’re a shit product.” With that, Peter pulled his cock out. “This hole isn’t even worth my time.”

Suddenly, Laura was alone. On all fours. Her pussy gaping. Was he right? Was she that loose? She never considered how the men in her life felt when making love to her. She assumed she was a good lay, but now…

What was she thinking? This was good! It meant she didn’t have to have sex with a monster. And yet…

She’d been dangerously close.

“Pretty, get your cunt over here,” Peter barked.

“She’s no good?” Jean asked.

“She’s broken,” Peter said plainly.

“Like my old dolls?” Jean asked.

Laura felt a pang in her heart. It intensified seeing Jean present herself to the monster. The woman she lusted after was oh so eager to thrust her ass at him. It was like Laura wasn’t even in the room. Like she was an actual object. Neither of them looked at her as Peter plunged into Jean’s cunt. The redhead let out a long and joyful moan, pressing her cheek flat against the floor as Peter railed her pussy.

“Yes, Mister!” Jean cried. “I love it when we play like this! I’m much better than some broken doll!”

“Of course you are,” Peter grunted, slamming himself into her over and over.

“Sorry, you’re busted!” Jean mewled at Laura. “All my broken toys don’t get played with either.”

Laura didn’t know why, but she whispered, “I am not broken.”

“Yes, you are, silly!” Jean laughed, her fat ass clapping as she was fucked from behind. “You leak all the time! Broken toys leak lots!”

Laura couldn’t help but notice the faintest of cool air in her cunt. Had she still not closed all the way? Was she still gaping after all that? But there was Jean, the way Peter slammed into her, the way the redhead’s ass rippled beneath each blow, did she look like that? Did her ass make that clapping noise? Was her pussy that tight? Could she ever be like Jean?

 “I think it’s time,” Peter grunted.

“You’re gonna go in the other one!” Jean giggled and reached behind her to pull her cheeks apart. “I’m reeeeeally wet, Mister! It’ll go in easy! Pinky promise!”

“I know it will,” Peter said, “your cunt is perfect.”

He dragged himself out of her, flooding the air with Jean’s dark, musky aroma. Laura’s pussy gushed as she drank it in. The smell was intoxicating, and she desperately wanted to crawl over and lap it off the floor. She didn’t care if it would make her look like an animal, at least Jean wouldn’t call her a toy.

Peter shoved back into Jean, the redhead grunting as her backdoor was crammed full of his cock. The two were soon keeping rhythm with one another. It was so effortless, so perfect, was it even possible for Laura to do the same?

Pheromones clouded her judgment, and the girl’s fingers slid down her front through her thatch of hair. She was soaked, from both arousal and her bitter piss. It always disgusted her, and now she knew why. It was proof she was broken. A faulty product. Just like her sloppy hole. But she reached down to test her gape anyway.

“Ahhhhhn,” Laura made a noise she’d never heard before. It was somewhere between a grunt and a moan. Was that a whimper? She tested it again, sticking fingers inside her. “Ahhhhhn, ahhhhhn, ahhhhhn!” Why was she so turned on? Was it watching Jean get fucked? No, it was something else.

“Mister is so goooood,” Jean moaned, gripping one of her nipples and twisting it. “He keeps broken stuff all the time! You can stay here.”

It hurt even more hearing it from Jean. The woman she’d lusted after. Was that all she’d been to her? A damaged object in the background? So unimportant, she didn’t even notice her gym shorts missing?

“How does it feel?” Peter hissed. “Knowing that you’re a faulty product?”

“I’m not broken,” she growled, but the wet thrusting of her fingers negated the ferocity.

“How many did they go through before they reached you?” Peter asked. “Maybe the 23 means you’re the 23rd try?”

“No.” Her fingers began thrusting faster.

“They fucked up 22 times.”

“No.” Faster. Harder.

“And they still ended up with some leaky piece of garbage.”

“NO!” Laura lunged at Peter, knocking him away from Jean. She pinned him on the ground, knees on either side of him. “I’m not broken!”  

His hand slipped between her legs and thumbed her clit. Laura groaned gutturally, surprised at how it throbbed.

Peter grinned, “Prove it.”

The girl knew what he wanted and knew there were dozens of ways to prove her worth. But in that moment, mind flooded with the smell of pheromones and sex, Laura took the plunge.

She slammed herself down on his cock.

His hard muscular body sent different sensations to her cunt. Each touch was like her pussy was battered by a thousand thrusts. She could feel every centimeter of his cock within her, stretching and straining her like no other. Her sensitive spots rippled ecstasy through her body. With the pheromones in play, her mind was breaking beneath his strength.

“Tight?” Laura swallowed, grinding down on him. How could he call her broken now? She was the epitome of sex, an eager hole that could swallow him up in one go. Maybe she was loose, but that meant he could fuck her faster and harder. This proved she wasn’t a broken toy.

“You’re pissing,” Peter grunted.

What?

“No, no, no, no,” despite it all, she kept bouncing on his cock. The wet smacking of their bodies echoed around the room. She tensed her pelvic floor, trying in vain to hold it in. But the harder she tried, the more leaked out. Maybe she was broken, maybe there was nothing she could do.

“It’s your enhanced senses, isn’t it?” Peter grunted. “I know I’m a good fuck, but you’re literally losing your mind. No wonder you wet yourself at the slightest touch. Broken bitch.”

She squealed as Peter surged up and slammed them together. It was a terrifying noise; one she swore she’d never make. Yet here she was squealing, whining, and whimpering as she rode a man she didn’t know. Determined to prove she wasn’t a mistake, she gave way to taboo euphoria. Her mind crumbled beneath the effects of everything at once.

The girl slammed herself down harder, a powerful orgasm barreling toward her. She dug her fingers into the floor, knowing that she’d likely wet herself the moment it hit her. She was a leaky, broken toy. This final and wet orgasm would damn her forever.

“You’ll be a broken doll when I’m done with you,” Peter seethed. “Propped up in a corner as Pretty dresses you up. Leaking like a faucet as you cum whenever she breathes near you.”

“Nooooo,” she moaned, even as she prepared to lose herself. He was right, this would break her completely. None of her training could withstand what was about to happen. She’d lose herself to one powerful cum.

“But there is another option,” Peter said.

Jean crawled up beside them, holding the bdsm mask and inhibitor collar.

“Put it on,” he said. “No more enhanced senses.”

“I-I—” Laura, closing in on her orgasm, only hesitated a moment before snatching it from Jean and pulling it over her head—anything to save herself.

It reeked of fresh leather. She clicked the collar in place, heard the inhibitor whizz to life, and then her senses left her. The scent of leather dampened, and the sounds of the outside silenced. But most notably, her sense of touch nearly vanished, as did much of the pleasure of Peter’s cock.

But a horrible and burning ache remained. She’d been on the very edge of cumming and stayed there. Right at the crescendo of a mind-shattering ordeal. A mix of pleasure, pain, and frustration tore through her nerves like a billion fire ants. It showed no signs of quelling, if anything, it burned hotter as she panicked beneath the mask.

“NOOOOO!!” Laura screamed, her clit continuously throbbing yet no relief came. She’d rather be broken than live like this!

Peter turned the tables, throwing her on her back. Laura hit the floor hard, the mask protecting her head from smacking the floor.

THWIP!

Webbing stuck her arms above her head.

THWIP! THWIP!

Then her feet were locked in place.

Pinning her down, Peter thrust hard inside of her, feeding the edge but not enough to push her over the side. Her excruciation heightened as he sped up, plundering her body while she burned in hell.

“There, I saved you,” Peter seethed, fucking her with a vengeance. “No more leaking, no more messes, and no more cumming. Do you feel less broken now?”

“Pleeeease!” Laura shrieked, writhing beneath him. Her orgasm was on the edge of boiling. “Take it off!”

Peter leaned down, his mouth inches from her snout, “It doesn’t come off.”

Laura howled, thrashing as Peter’s cock sawed in and out of her. “CUM! I need to cum!” She shook her head from side to side, the mask's interior heating up from her muffled screams.

But Peter paid her no mind, he gripped her tits, mauling them beneath his fingers. He thrust hard into her pussy, using her like the stupid hole she knew she was. The pleasure seared through her like the sun, scalding her with untold frustration. She shrieked into the mask, pinned beneath a monster who ravaged her with little regard. She thought her misery couldn’t get any worse until she saw a curious face looking down at her.

“Jean,” Laura rasped, looking at those beautiful green eyes. “Please… help me!!!”

The woman gently maneuvered herself over Laura’s face, her perfect pussy filling Laura’s vision. She couldn’t smell or taste it in the air; she could only see it with her pathetic average vision. It was so frustratingly close, and there was nothing she could do.

Jean lowered herself further, pushing the nose of the mask into her cunt. Laura’s bottled emotions gave way and she howled in despair as the woman of her dreams fucked herself on her face. The sounds of Jean’s slick pussy were just barely audible within the coffin that was her mask.

“Let’s see what bastard pup you’ll make me,” Peter growled, slamming himself inside one final time. It was like a literal branding iron spurted inside her. Held at the peak, she prayed to throw herself over the edge and plunge to pleasure or death. Anything would be preferable to this nightmare.

“Cumming!” Jean squeaked. Laura heard the little jet of squirt spray the mouth of the mask, but the zipper sealed it from leaking in.

Maybe that could be it? Maybe Jean’s taste could be the water her burning body needed. The smell could be enough…

“You want me to unzip it?” Peter chuckled.

“Yes,” Laura whined pitifully.

“Beg.”

“Please unzip my mask.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to smell her,” Laura whimpered.

“What do you think, Pretty?” Peter asked.

“No,” the woman said, “That’s gross.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, “we'd better leave this thing alone.”

They left her bound to the floor. Even after the webbing dissolved, Laura didn’t move. The slightest budge burned hotter than magma. All she could do was lie there, with Jean’s juices drying on her face, and tears continually spilling down her cheeks.

Peter gazed down at Laura’s cell from the catwalk. The girl hadn’t twitched a muscle for the past eight hours. Eventually, she’d need to eat and drink, but that could wait until tomorrow. Hank McCoy was scheduled to declaw her, since the adamantium would poison her powerless body.

Elixir was about to get another workout, patching that girl back together. But the boy was surprisingly easy to please. He only wanted Rahne Sinclair, and Peter was happy to allow the boy to use her however he wanted. Last time he checked, the Scottish woman was entertaining a couple of St. Bernards.

Peter sighed, “Kids these days.”

“Mister?”

Peter looked away from Laura’s room, smiling as Pretty skipped across the catwalk. Her pigtails bounced just as much as her tits. She’d had free rein of the facility after Anya finished teaching her how to speak again. She was still too stupid to understand how doors worked, meaning Kitty was on babysitting duties.

Strange, he didn’t see the girl—

The base of his neck tingled.

A tendril burst from Peter’s chest, bashing Pretty off the catwalk. She landed gracefully atop the transparent ceilings of the cells, spinning around in time to fire off several rounds from a Glock 17. The bullets embedded themselves in Peter’s chest, directly over his heart. He didn’t budge.

“A gun?” Peter asked.

The symbiote crawled over his face, sealing his head within an ebony mask. His bright white eyes narrowed as Pretty backed away slowly, the Glock clunking on the ground.

“You tried to kill me with a gun?”

The bullets clattered to the floor, pushed out from his chest.  

“Oh shit,” Pretty whispered, before sprinting across the cells of moaning and screaming mutants.

He could’ve called Rogue. He could’ve called a lot of people. But sometimes it was nice to do things himself.

Lunging from his perch, Peter’s tendrils surged around him, attaching to the high ceiling. He was already swinging above her within a second and pinning her to the ground in two. Air was bashed from her lungs from his kick; her momentary need for breath was enough to ensnare his would-be killer in a mesh of webbing.

Peter stood over his prey, her body affixed to the floor. Pretty hissed and snarled, twisting her neck to glare at him.

“Kill you! I’ll kill you!” Pretty shrieked, gnashing her teeth.

Peter ignored her threats, only saying, “Kurt broke a couple of days ago.”

That shut her up.

“And you already know about your daughter.”

The disguise melted away.

Mystique spoke slowly, “I will kill you and everyone you love.”

Peter chuckled, “They’d probably prefer that.”