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Corruption Is Just Another Change of Perspective	By : Ksennin Category: X-men Comics > General Views: 31577 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or any Marvel characters and make no money from the publication of this story.

Chapter List
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Sue Storm didn't believe in the stereotype of the bored housewife. Even if she weren't a superpowered celebrity sitting on the boards of half a dozen charities, she had plenty to do as a wife and mother. Her daughter was a six-year-old super-genius with the emotional maturity of... a six-year-old. Her son could create universes, but wasn't very good at it yet. Her husband stretched himself too thin for a living. And then there was her brother and Ben, who needed so much help from time to time that she might as well have four kids.

She kept busy.

So much so, that when she found herself deep in Friday evening with no aliens invading, no ancient evils resurrecting, no board meetings, no experiments, no expeditions, no family dinners, no nothing—she didn't know quite what to do with herself.

She asked around.

Reed: I'll be checking the gain constant of the isometric senso-barometer to make sure it's scanning in centimeters instead of inches, which could throw off the entire process of discerning the amount of gaseous molecules in the Planck room and thus, make the entire experiment about as useful as a an iPad at 30,000 feet.

Ben: Sorry, no can do kiddo, the munchkins got me promisin' to take 'em around the old Avengers mansion. Think it's haunted. You wouldn't be interested in none of that...

Johnny: Someone tweeted to ask what happened if I farted when I was flaming. I'm not saying I'm gonna be all evening, but it could take a while.

Reed: ...which is, of course, where the LCD begins to completely break down. That said, it would be an interesting application of electronic ink, if done with the proper amount of plasma, to simply 'write down' whatever information needed to be conveyed in a rudimentary fashion...

The inner circle of her life exhausted, Sue turned to her phone's contact list. She considered calling Namor, but dismissed the thought with the same rationale as always. T'Challa was another possibility, but his split with Ororo was too raw and she didn't want to take sides so early on. She-Hulk, perhaps. Now there was a woman who knew how to have a good time. It was literally in her blood, for goodness' sake!

As Sue dialed Jen's number on her iPhone—she kept it as one of the few anchors of reality in Reed's Baxter Building wonderland—she switched the nearest wall segment to mirror—case in point. It dialed and she took a moment to note how her unstable molecule costume flattered her. She'd been wearing it to lounge in, as lazily as a pair of worn pajamas, and because quiet evenings had a habit of attracting supervillains. She didn't want to get caught fighting the Mad Thinker in a Snuggie.

Whatever the reason, the spandex-like covering framed her body well, coating her athletically firm limbs and abdomen as if in smooth paint, while seeming to strain over her full cleavage and backside—the lingering weight of her few pregnancies. She vacillated between abhorring the extra load she was carrying and enjoying the effect it made. With the right posture, the costume was downright pornographic. If she weren't wearing underwear—conservative underwear, at that...

How long had it been since she and Reed had used the bedroom for more than sleeping and half-awake experiments?

Jen picked up, silencing her frisky musing. She was in Hulk mode—a good sign, since she never went clubbing as nebbish Jennifer Walters—and as usual, the good cheer she spoke with more than balanced out how intimidating her baritone voice could be. "Sue? Holy moses, Sue, you haven't called in forever. I thought Terrax would have to attack before we'd get back together."

"No such luck," Sue replied, already smiling. "I'm too bored for Scandal. Tell me you've got something cooking."

"Just a quiet get-together with friends." Jen had always been a poor liar. Sue imagined the 'quiet get-together' involving twenty reserve Avengers and Tony Stark's wine cellar.

"Room for one more?"

"You, me, and Janet makes three."

Sue silently punched the air. Janet van Dyne, the winsome Wasp. That sounded like just the thing for her doldrums.

"But, really," Jen's voice turned skittish, "I don't know if it's your scene. We're going a little off the beaten track on this one."

"Bring it!" Sue said readily. "I am just that bored."

"Not kidding here, Sue. I do not want to land on the cover of the Daily Bugle doingany of this. So if you're in, I will not be holding your hand."

"Jen, I've had two kids and they're both mutants. Trust me, I don't shock easily."

"Alright, we'll pick you up." Jen's voice turned on a dime, back to wine coolers and boys. "And Sue? Dress like you're not married."

***

Usually, Sue just went with her costume. In Paris, it was considered haute culture. Or, if she didn't want to bother with unstable molecules where the sun didn't shine, she had an endorsement deal with J.C. Penney that kept her in sensible everything all eight days of the week. And, if an effort was really called for, she could always bring the glamour.

But this didn't call for her to be Jackie Kennedy reborn. This was asking for slutty. And it'd been a while, but Sue knew she could do slutty.

Back in her college days, and especially to get Reed's attention, she'd favored tight shirts with no bra and jean cut-offs, but there was no getting around that she was deep into her thirties. Sue didn't know how feminist it was, but she detested women who couldn't dress their age. It wasn't that hard to get the desired effect without pretending to still be a snot-nosed twenty-one-year-old.

Going deep into her closet, she found a minidress that had virtually no back, just a halter choker with chain-like straps going to the bodice and the waist-level dip that showed off about every vertebra in her spine. It was blue, of course. Whatever club they ended up at, Sue would enjoy the dissonance people would have seeing the fabulous Invisible Woman getting her drink on.

A decadent set of high heels, along with the lace lingerie she wore beneath, finished the ensemble. She looked and felt sexy, literally from the ground up. More than that, Sue felt dangerous.

She wondered what Reed would say if he could see her now. But, as the elevator carried her down, Sue thought with some dark amusement that he wouldn't get the chance.

***

The evening was dark and surprisingly quiet, most people staying home after the symbiote invasion of the past week, which the Avengers had routed. Jen's green F-150 pulled to the curb—another endorsement deal. Bruce Banner had only signed on because he'd been persuaded it was a boon to American workers, and then had quickly traded it to his cousin. She was equally worried about air quality, but it or an SUV were the only things that could carry her when she'd Hulked out, and as she put it, "it's Glamazon, not soccer mom."

When the passenger door was kicked open for Sue, she saw her friends hadn't gotten the memo about classily dressing down. Janet wore leather pants so tight they could've been mistaken for last week's symbiotes, with a blouse tied off over her belly button ring so that only half of the Japanese art print on the front was showed off. It made Sue feel like she was watching a kung-fu movie with crappy projection.

Jen, meanwhile, had been forced to scrap another of her conservative office outfits and was getting good value for money by wearing it to rags. The jacket was gone, and the metallic gray blouse had lost most of the buttons, only two silkily bridging the space where a bra would go. Her knee-length wool skirt had taken a slit up the side all the way to her panties, which was far too artful not to be on purpose.

Still, if she were in college, Sue would've taken either of them back to her dorm as soon as she had two drinks in her. So, mission accomplished there.

"Sue, you look great!" In the driver's seat, Janet's petite body was swallowed up behind the statuesque musculature of Jen Walters. "I'll even forgive you for not wearing one of my designs."

"Ignore her, she's doing Oprah next week," Jen advised.

Sue gave her the obligatory kiss on the cheek before throwing open the side-door. "So where are we headed?"

Jen opened her mouth, but Janet beat her to the punch. "Show, don't tell, Shulkie!" Her smile became a little plastic as she faced Jen. "She's cool, right?"

"Of course!"

"I am," Sue assured her, feeling like she was sneaking a cig with the girls back in high school.

"Just checking. The woman's breast-fed, after all." With Sue now in the backseat, Janet hit the gas without even waiting for her to buckle her seatbelt.

***

After a half-hour where Janet drove like they were being chased, they arrived in a part of New York Sue didn't recognize, far from her beloved island. Both sides of the street were construction sites; the tallest building on the block was the parking garage they left the pick-up in.

Behind the parking garage, the fenced-in backalley curved to avoid a subway entrance in its midst like a mosquito in amber. Jen and Janet practically skipped down the steps, while Sue lingered at the head. "I swear to God, if all this build-up is just for some Kabbalah thing..." She followed them down.

Underground, the subway platform was cool and had the stale smell of recycled air.AC, Sue thought, thank Christ. It looked abandoned, but also clean. There was no graffiti, no trash, no ads—nothing. It was like they'd stepped into a scale-model of a subway station instead of the real thing.

"What is this place?" Sue asked in wonder, noting that the light didn't come from flickering, glaring fluorescents, but from lanterns in wall-scones. The illumination was soft and gentle.

"It used to serve the AB line, but they closed that after a downed Sentinel caved in half a mile of tunnel," Jen explained. "Now the Mistress owns it."

"The who?"

"Later," Janet piped up. She was digging into her handbag for something, which turned out to be an unremarkable-looking white card. With a flourish, it was waved in front of an empty poster space.

From down the empty subway tunnel came the slightest of electronic sighs.

Sue crossed her arms the way she did when Val was fibbing about anything from who erased Adventure Time from the Tivo to where Dr. Doom was at the moment. "I thought you said the tunnel was caved in."

"Part of it," Jen assured her. "Our stop's way before you can even see the rubble."

"Which actually comes in handy." Janet was now carefully replacing the card in her purse. It became clear to Sue that it actually had a special slot to go into. "Keeps curious eyes away."

"And what would curious eyes be looking for?"

Janet excitedly took Sue's arm. "You'll see!" she promised.

Jen took Sue's other arm, which gave her the odd impression of being frog-marched to whatever the evening held. The electric sighing was getting more intense, without actually seeming to get closer. Nonetheless, in a few seconds, something that looked a great deal like the pods from Logan's Run arrived at the station. Sue was about to comment on the similarity when she remembered when the movie had come on, and bit her tongue to avoid looking too old.

Feeling a bit Dorothy circa Oz—that, thankfully, she only knew from home video—she went arm in arm with the other heroines. Inside, Sue took back the comparison. Unlike the clunky sperm-mobiles in Logan's Run, this interior was as smooth and contoured as a luxury sedan, with comfortable reclining seats and recesses for everything from cups to bags. There were no controls, though, none of the buttons Sue had come to expect from moving vehicles. They simply sat down and the tram whooshed back the way it had come. Sue jumped a little at the unusual experience of going backward, facing the subway 'ghost town' as it receded into the distance.

The tram moved fast, with no obvious inertia to jostle them. Repulsor technology, Sue guessed. Expensive, but not prohibitively so. More of a cute toy than the egotistical bleeding-edge tech of a supervillain lair. That was a little assuring.

"So... 'the Mistress'?" Sue prompted Jen.

Jen gave her a giggly look, the big blabbermouth, and though Janet gave her the evil eye, She-Hulk spilled. "Well, sometime in the sixties the city tried building a luxury subway station, accessible only by elevator. It tanked, but a while ago, the Lizard shacked up there. After Spider-Man hauled him up, the mayor realized the place might be worth something and put it up for sale like any other real estate. And she bought it."

"Who?" Sue insisted.

"You'll judge," Janet said warningly, once more cutting off Jen. "Better to meet her... in her natural environment. If you do meet her. If we're that lucky."

Sue rolled her eyes at all the secrecy. "As long as it's not a future me or a future kid of mine or anyone from the future..."

"It's not."

"But she's been to the future!" Jen teased.

"Shush!" Janet replied.

Jen laughed. The platform had disappeared from sight, leaving the tram stranded in darkness. With the repulsor technology, there was no sign they were moving, either. The only light came from a blue ambiance generated by the tram itself. It didn't extend more than a few inches past the windshield. Stranded in darkness, Sue thought again, turning the phrase over in her head. Like they were waiting for something instead of traveling somewhere. She thought of turning something invisible, just to be active.

"Anyway," Jen said, "she bought the station, furnished it, and made it her own private... our private... place. You can only get to it by this tunnel, and of course, no one knows it's down here. It's... it's just the best, Sue, really."

"Alright, alright." Sue put her hands up. "Don't oversell it. I've been to the Microverse, so if this is just some rave, I'm not going to be too impressed."

Now Janet laughed, a tad too mockingly for Sue's tastes.

Jen smoothed things over with a sweet smile at Sue and a grimace at Janet. "I'm not trying to sell you on this, it's just..." Jen was so nervous, she actually shrunk a little, turning a lighter shade of green. "It's a lot to take in. Promise you won't freak out? You'll give it just a teensy-weensy chance?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Sue nodded, laughing herself. What were they getting her into, an orgy? No, Jen would never share so many men.

The tram came to a stop without Sue realizing it. But somehow, both Jen and Janet knew to disembark. Sue wondered at that. Had they made the trip enough times to clock it? That seemed unlikely, given their busy schedules, and no club could appeal to them that much. Shelving the thought, Sue followed them out of the tram and gasped.

The station they'd arrived at was a stunning tribute to Jet Age architecture, a rounded lobby that bore a resemblance to a Pan Am terminal, but with a stunning mural of sea life where the windows might've been. It extended all around the lobby, even into the far wall beyond the tracks—a cheeky reminder of being below sea level. The floor itself was mostly vacant of the seating arrangement Sue would've expected, with merely a few stone benches scattered about at oblique angles. It was more like a galleria than the 'people warehouses' Sue loathed in public transportation.

And that was just the first stop. A staircase led deeper inside.

Jen took the lead, cheerfully playing tour guide. Sue's eyes were unconsciously drawn to her swaying ass. It was sashaying enough to draw even a married woman's attention, and when Sue remembered herself and looked away, she was shocked to find Janet being equally 'appreciative.' Noticing being noticed, the Wasp gave her a conspiratorial smile.

"Of course, this was never meant to be just a platform. There were going to be stores, a library, a theater, a pool," Jen rattled on, oblivious. Though she'd regained her height, her inner nerd was still obvious. "Those, the Mistress took out. Instead... well..."

"Therein lies the rub," Janet breathed anxiously.

At the bottom of the stairs, the light darkened from the lobby's comfortable glow to a more intimate, evening illumination. Shuddered wall-scones barely dipped light into a wide hallway. Again, Sue was impressed. Plush carpet, wood paneling, even end tables bearing flowers at appropriate junctions. All very dark, very brooding and Jungian—the only real lightness was from the flowers, white roses that seemed to spectrally linger even as they walked past them.

It was like stepping into a tastefully appointed English manor, albeit one that was far more Mr. Rochester than Jane Austen. It was also strikingly... sexual. Though the paintings on the walls were of woodland scenes—nymphs and satyrs frolicking—there was an obvious sensuality to all the gazing and posing that bled into the atmosphere. Even Jen and Janet were in on the act, no longer giggling and strutting about, but simply breathing heavily as they led Sue about. She wondered what all the damn fuss was really about. A burlesque show, maybe? She wasn't an ingénue—if it was a mutant act, she could imagine things getting well and truly feisty.

As they walked, they only passed two other people. Sue thought it was one—a tall woman almost entirely covered by a cloak in the style of Red Riding Hood and a lace mask. Her gait parted the cloak as she went, revealing she was nude except for her high heels. And the muscular thighs put Sue strongly in mind of Ms. Marvel (Captain Marvel now, Sue reminded herself absurdly).

That didn't shock Sue—at least, it wasn't the part that shocked Sue the greatest. It was when she noticed the leash clenched in the woman's hand, and her eyes followed it to a naked man trailing behind her on all fours. Sue didn't register anything about him except that he was generously endowed. She could tell because at that moment, he was fully erect.

In a moment, they were out of sight and Sue didn't dare turn her head for a second glance. She was so surprised she didn't even say a word. Neither did Jen or Janet. But they exchanged knowing glances, and when they looked back at Sue, it was with the same aura of something being plotted.

Ahead, double doors were sprawled open. They led into a grand ballroom—at least, something that might've been one, once. Now its marble floor was covered almost from wall to wall with lengthy rugs. The walls were veiled by heavy crimson curtains. Chairs and tables huddled about like shadows, rare specimens with discrete distance between them. They were arranged in a loose constellation around a stage of about ten feet in diameter. The stagelights that ringed it were the only direct light in the room.

They revealed a harness, set up like a large tripod to dangle a woman upside-down, three feet above the floor. She was bound from head to toe in leather that resembled a straitjacket and paint at the same time, smothering her skin right up to the eyeballs. It was all black except for the ball gag in her mouth, which was an offensive chrome, and the wave of green hair that fell from the open bondage hood. And as she struggled in place, a microphone in the gag broadcast her muffled groans and sighs, some program or DJ slowing it down and turning it up and amping the bass so it became a kind of music, playing over the whole scene in a dreamy chorus.

Two more people in Red Riding Hood cloaks were on stage. They beat the bound woman with cats-o'-nine-tails, each stinging hit drawing a smattering of applause from the audience and a renewed writhing from the woman.

Jen looked back at Sue with a shit-eating grin, and saw that she was stricken. "Don't worry, Lorna signs up for that every night..."

Janet hit her, which Jen barely felt and so barely acknowledged. "No names, dummy! We shouldn't even be in our street clothes..."
"Yeah, like Sue would just throw on a Halloween costume because we asked nice. The Mistress will understand."

"Hey, I was Malice..." Sue grumbled through her shock at the perverse sight.

"Shh!" Janet was looking up. So did Jen. And so did Sue.

There was a balcony she hadn't noticed, inlaid in the wall, what must've been the second story of the cavernous ballroom. The light being what it was, Sue couldn't make out many details, but she saw a figure poised at the railing, two slender white-gloved hands on the guard rail, the rest buried in a shock of white fur and ice-blonde hair. The pallor caught the light, while leaving the rest in shadow. Except for the eyes. Though she couldn't see them, Sue felt a pair of predatory eyes on her.

She felt unexpectedly flattered by the obvious scrutiny. From what little she could see of the other... patrons, they all seemed like models of physical perfection, maybe even superheroes like Captain Marvel (if they had been her), their tantalizing cloaks alone outdoing her understated good looks. And yet, those eyes seemed locked on her, repeatedly brushing over the blue dress that now seemed hopelessly quaint in this sea of flesh.

"Told you she'd understand," Jen said smugly, pounding Sue on the back.

"That's the Mistress?" Sue looked back at the balcony, the eye contact—if it had been that—having been broken by Jen's back-slapping. But all she caught was a whiff of cloth, like a cape. White, of course. It disappeared.

"C'mon," Janet said, now simply ignoring Sue's questions. "Let's see if we can get a booth."

Again, Janet took the white card out of her purse. She held it at her side. Sue saw it out of the corner of her eye. She was riveted by the scene on the stage. One of the bound woman's—torturers? Lovers? Co-stars?—had dropped the whip and was now peeling away a section of leather, revealing the flank of her thigh, pure creamy flesh with just the slightest trace of the whip. As Sue watched in stunned disbelief, he took out a knife and ran it gently over the exposed skin. An animalistic keening took over the club's soundtrack, amplified from the woman's need.

"Greetings, madams," came a delicately accented voice, startling Sue. When she turned to recognize the newcomer, her heartbeat picked up again and wouldn't slow down. She felt like she'd been falling asleep, lulled into senselessness by the sheer madness around her, and now her brain had transmitted a random sensation of falling to detonate her.

It was Psylocke. That sweet British voice belonged to Psylocke, Betsy Braddock, stalwart X-Man, former Captain Britain, and she was dressed in the same mask as the other club-goers, its intricate lace barely disguising her Asian features and uniquely English expression of polite sarcasm. Her midnight-blue stockings and gloves made it even more obvious who she was, but even the woman who'd openly tried to steal Scott Summers away from his wife wouldn't wear her current garments into battle.

Instead of the relatively modest leotard Psylocke usually wore, this... funhouse mirror reflection had on the sheerest net panties Sue had ever seen, riding low on her hips to mark the miles of distance from her taut underbelly to the bra that was more like a transparent film draped over her cleavage. The only thing that kept Sue from pinpointing the exact shade of purple in Betsy's pubic hair was that she didn't look hard enough.

"It would be my pleasure to serve you." Her smile was wicked and all-encompassing. "The three of you."

"We would of course want the house brand," Janet said smarmily, already eyeing Betsy's prodigious breasts, the biggest Sue had ever seen on an Asian woman. She'd heard the rumor that Betsy had gotten implants to replicate the D-cups she'd had in her original, Occidental body, but if it was true, then the work was far too good to be detected by sight alone.

"Of course," Betsy replied, her purple hair flashing in the dim light as she bowed with mock-respect. "Compliments of our hostess."

The Mistress, Sue thought, almost reverently. Who was she, this woman that had at least four superheroines Sue knew to be decent, respectable people... acting like Mardi Gras was being held on spring break?

Betsy turned to lead them away and Sue tried to keep herself from staring at her ass. It was even more exposed than usual, her panties just a strand of lace running between her cheeks to keep the rest together. And her ass was damn near perfect. The slender musculature that ran through Betsy's body sculpted her buttocks into pristine form. Sue had to force herself to look away.

Betsy walked them to the curtains along the wall. Pulling back a set, she revealed a small circular booth, eight feet in diameter with plush seating along the sides and a brief platform in the middle. It was obviously one of many, each practically invisible from the dance floor. Pulled along by Jen and Janet, Sue sat. She watched as Betsy closed the curtains behind them—God, her ass really was spectacular—and then as a stripper pole rose from the center of the platform.

"What's your name?" Janet asked Betsy. She glanced at Sue. "When you're on the job?"

"Slut."

"That's a very pretty name," Janet said seriously. "Dance for us, Slut."

So she did. With the same languid grace that Sue had always seen Psylocke possess in battle, Betsy reached behind her to grip the pole. She waved her body from right to left as she let herself descend, then turned around and rose back up, swaying against the pole. Sue watched breathlessly. This wasn't—for her, she wasn't wired this way. Why was she enjoying this? And yet, and yet, and yet... she was enjoying it as much as Janet and Jen were.

Betsy entwined herself with the pole and circled around it, now facing the party from behind the slick metal. She reached to her breast and her fingertips roved over her nipples, making first one, then the other pop through the sheer silk covering them. Smiling, as if she'd amused herself more than them, she ripped the silk away. Her breasts swayed and rolled from the violent motion, and they kept moving as Betsy circled the pole again, stimulating herself with the cold metal on her sensitive buds.

Again she turned her back on them, her body in continuous liquid motion. The amplified moaning coming out of the speakers and through the heavy curtains now sounded to Sue like exotic music in a sultan's court, spurring a dancing girl on to heights of ecstasy. With one sinuous roll of her body, Betsy shucked her panties. Though the sight of her ass was practically the same, now Sue felt an electric twist of arousal. Betsy was naked. Naked for her and her friends.

"Janet," Jen begged, and out of the corner of her eye, Sue could see that the savage She-Hulk had her hand under her skirt and was making it jump like the sea in a storm. "Jan, I can't do the fucking slow burn thing right now!"

"Christ, she's already naked, what more do you—" Janet groaned and rolled her eyes. Crankily she shoved her own hand down her pants. "Slut, fuck yourself! Give us something to take the edge off."

Sue literally could not breathe as Betsy twisted once more, now letting the side of her body—sleek thigh and the sweet curve of her left breast—face them. One leg was wrapped around the pole and so were both arms. As she faced them, she pressed herself up against the pole like it was a lover—and then began to roll her pussy against the metal. The smell of her new arousal saturated the air. Betsy eyed each of them in turn as she fucked the pole.

"Faster, Slut!" Jen cried, furiously jilling with the hand between her legs, the other inside her blouse and groping her breast.

Janet nodded, similarly enjoying herself.

Sue could only concentrate on keeping her hands tightly clenched on the seat cushion.

Betsy went faster, now driving her pussy against the pole with fast, physical slaps. She bent backward at the waist with each writhing thrust, her large breasts jiggling every time. Upside-down, her wide eyes and opened mouth made the face of a wanton whore. Her thighs, tangled around the pole, slipped against each other like they'd been oiled.

"Thank you!" Betsy said, now hanging onto the pole with one hand and frigging her clit with the other. "Thank you so much!"

"Come for us, Slut!" Jen ordered, and immediately her clothes ripped a little more from her muscles tensing in orgasm.

Sue didn't notice. She'd became entranced in how Betsy's long purple hair was flying wildly about her head, landing across her face in the most provocative way imaginable. A lock of it ran across Betsy's lips and into her mouth as the telepath came, squeezing the pole between her rounded thighs hard enough to make the metal squeak, a final shudder shockwaving through her body before she went still, hanging off the pole. Her breath shallowly stirred the frayed end of the hair as she let go with both hands and hung spread-eagled from her amazing legs, which slid down the pole.

"Fuck," Betsy said softly as her groin traveled from the warm, wet section of metal she'd fucked herself on to new, cooler pole. It sent aftershocks through her body, had her keening with tiny pleasures by the time she hit the ground. Her legs unwound and she laid supine before the three, her breasts rising and falling with the deep breaths she could now take.

"She is just the best," Jen said, sounding similarly exhausted as she took her damp fingers from her panties. "I swear, Sue, this is the best dancer we've ever had."

"Let's give her a tip," Janet said, out of breath. She'd had her own masturbatory finish while Sue was engrossed in Psylocke. Her fingers, damp as morning dew, traveled from her unhitched waistband to Betsy's parted lips. A tiny remnant of Sue thought to protest, but Betsy suckled on Janet's wetness as fast as a baby at a teat. When Jen offered her fingers as well, Betsy took both sets inside her gaping mouth and sucked so hard Sue could hear her slurping.

Sue didn't know how long she would've sat there, watching Betsy suck on two women's fingers—and God only knew what else, in time—but a new arrival brought here back to her senses.

"You ordered refreshments?" came a familiar voice... an American accent, but with the crispness of a foreign education and elevated self-opinion.

Emma Frost stood between the parted curtains, wearing what Sue recognized now as a modernly fashioned throwback to her Hellfire Club costume. Sue had seen the real thing on E! True Hollywood Story. That was scandalous. This was downright taboo. The top was now a half-corset that left her shockingly flat stomach bare and almost entirely exposed her breasts, while the bottom had gone from something like shorts to white thong panties. Even her fur cloak had become obscene—the fur trim remained at the collar, but the rest was translucent silk fit for a harem girl. She was sex in high-heeled boots, and Sue nearly came just from the sensation of lust that fell off her.

All in all, it took her a moment to realize that Emma's hand was outstretched, three small vials in her white-gloved palm. Jen and Janet were equally taken aback, but they recovered quicker than Sue.

"Mistress," Jen said—more like stammered. "This is a great honor! Thank you so much for visiting us!"

"Mistress," Betsy repeated, with a bland smile still on her face.

Emma gave her both a look and, Sue assumed, a telepathic command. "Quiet, Slut," she said good-naturedly. "Ms. Van Dyne... Ms. Walters... your presence is always appreciated at my humble establishment. But a new guest... that is cause for celebration. Consider your party favors on the house."

"Thank you, Mistress," the two chimed. Each took one of the vials.

"And please," Emma said, gesturing extravagantly to Betsy, whose breathing quickened at being noticed. "Avail yourselves of the facilities."

Jen was first to act. With a wide grin, she popped the vial's tab and poured it out on Psylocke's body. A handful of white dust covered Betsy's breast, most of it scattering off the contour of her supple cleavage, but enough piling onto Betsy's areola for Jen to snort up hungrily. Betsy giggled at the sensation, and covered her crotch with her gloved hands. In modesty or excitement, Sue couldn't tell.

"Is that...?" Sue half-asked, but no one was paying attention to her.

Jen sat back, nose white with the substance, and then shook like electricity was going through her. Her mouth fell open, her eyes blinked rapidly, and as Sue watched in disbelief, a dark liquid stain appeared where her disheveled skirt exposed her panties.

"Oh my ever-loving fuck, do I love coming on cocaine!" Jen enthused, and pulled Sue into a demanding kiss.

Sue gagged and pushed Jen away, but couldn't deny that twitchings of lust were appearing all through her body. She felt feverish—on the verge of explosion. Jen laughed and kissed Janet, who sunk into it quickly. It was only when Sue stopped watching them that she noticed Emma was sitting beside her.

"Quite the party, isn't it?" Emma said, as if she were just making polite small talk over tea.

"What is that shit?" Sue demanded, an obscenity she hadn't used in months falling from her lips unnoticed.

"Just another marvel of mutant scientific advancement," Emma answered smarmily, displaying a white smile under her blue lipstick. "It bears a resemblance to cocaine, but without some of the more inconvenient side effects. It also decreases the chance of a heart attack by twenty percent and does wonders for the urinary tract. Oh, and when it's taken in close proximity to a sexual climax—" Emma dropped the pretense of a quaint chat and just sucked on her lip suggestively.

"What, multiple orgasm in pill form?" Sue asked, the scientist's wife in her taking over for a moment.

"Well, we can't very well rely on men for it, now can we?"

Janet was pushing at Jen—didn't work—slapped her a few times—Jen didn't even fill it through her haze of bliss—so Janet finally delivered a stinger blast to Jen's backside. That shocked her enough for Janet to push her aside and loom over Betsy herself.

"Slut, I'm about to make your night," Janet said, and uncorked her own vial. Unlike the pile Jen had made, she poured it down in a line from Betsy's heart to the wiry purple hair of her crotch. Then she started.

At first, she 'woozily' miscalculated the distance, kissing around the first gram so that her lips landed on Betsy's full breasts and hardened nipples. But she lost patience with the game in a few seconds and, to Betsy's beaming approval, extravagantly tongued the cocaine between Psylocke's breasts.

The rush hit her while her face was resting against Betsy's sweat-slick skin. Her eyes went wide, her nostrils flared, hard breaths stirring some of the cocaine around. Her hands jumped to Betsy's body, one sinking fingers like claws into her breast, the other wrapping around Betsy's throat. Betsy crooned in delicious submission as Janet licked her way down the line of cocaine, stopping every few inches to kiss and suck on Betsy's supple skin.

When she reached the end, her hair was a mess, her eyes were dilated, and her face was smeared with white. She shook a moment—releasing Betsy to run her hands down her own quivering body. Janet ripped her blouse open, the tatters covering one breast but leaving the other bare—Janet didn't seem to care about either. Her hands kept going, down to the pants riding low on her hips. She cupped herself through the leather, barking and squealing in crazed pleasure, kissing either of Betsy's spread thighs before simply burying herself in Betsy's cunt.

Sue was enthralled in watching—how Betsy held onto the stripper pole, stretched between it and Janet's mouth like a prisoner on the rack, but with her eyes squeezed tightly shut in pleasure rather than pain, remnants of the mutant cocaine covering her like powdered sugar on some delicious dish. Sue watched Betsy go from sultry temptress to obscene nymphomaniac over the course of thirty seconds, until Emma dangled the last vial in front of her face.

"Last one's all yours," she said.

Sue felt herself go a little translucent at the thought of not just watching this—orgy—but of joining in. Emma smiled winningly at her nervousness.

"Who do you think I am, Susan?"

"You're... you're an X-Man, a member of the X-Men."

"No." Emma shook her head with a reprimanding sigh and palmed the vial. "I am the headmistress of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. In short, a teacher. I have a passion for education that defines my life. Superheroics are a... cathartic diversion. I can't very well educate if Galactus eats all my students, after all."

"What do you teach here?" Sue asked, her voice unexpectedly bitter.

Emma nodded as Betsy let loose a particularly loud moan. "I create an environment for individuals to teach themselves. To learn about what they like doing, what they like having done to them. Ms. 'Slut' here was once where you're sitting, but she soon learned she was much more satisfied where she is. It's a post-human society, Susan. The old ways are obsolete. Biologically, morally, technologically—already, you have defied conventional morality to take the law into your own hands, to do scientific research far beyond the bounds of peer review, to unseat Dr. Doom's legitimate government as private citizens. Why shouldn't your bold new world extend to the bedroom?" Betsy moaned again, her hands squeaking as they tightened on the pole. "Or wherever."

"You're saying everyone here is... some kind of superhero?"

"More than you'd expect," Emma confirmed. "Though of course, I don't discriminate too much. That would defeat the whole purpose. Here you'll find Avengers, X-Men, Defenders, New Warriors, Guardians of the Galaxy, rock stars, stage actors, politicians, athletes, even the odd blogger—anyone with an open mind and an attractive physique. Here, they can forget about last week's crisis, and next week's, to recharge their systems." Deftly, Emma reached out and took Janet by the short hair, gently pulling her away from Betsy. When the purple hair between her legs came into view, it was damp as a running faucet. Emma craned Janet's neck to face her. "I think she's had enough, dear. Mustn't be greedy."

Betsy caught her breath. Emma gave her a gracious smile.

"Bring us a bottle of wine, Slut. I think our guest needs something to whet her appetite. I'd also like to introduce her to Cyclops. Bring him as well. And Ms. Walters, why don't you come sit by us? We can make it a threesome."

Both moved obediently, Betsy stark naked through the curtains, Jen to sit on Emma's other side. She spread her legs knowing and, like she was petting a lap dog, Emma sunk her gloved fingers into Jen's incongruously pink cunt.

"Jesus," Sue swore, as Emma calmly regarded her, the moaning Jen almost entirely ignored behind her.

"I marked you as soon as you came through my door." Emma continued their conversation with the same tenor as before, moving with the speed and care of a bulldozer over all Sue's misgivings. "You're not as open as they are. But that just makes you more interesting. You have a dark side, Susan Storm. What exactly do you do with it?"

Sue remembered her time as Malice—dressed in a costume that put her body on display like supermarket meat, her words spat out like bullets from her brain instead of being carefully chosen, her powers used to destroy instead of defend. "I control it."

"Do you?" Emma tilted her head with that same vexing smile, low-key but undeniably amused. Like Sue was a dumb cat video on the internet. "Don't lie to a telepath, dearie. How many times have you threatened to put a force bubble in someone's brain? How many times have you actually done it?"

"You turned my friends into a Girls Gone Wild video." Sue clenched her teeth, realizing the tension flowing through her body was anger. "Don't tempt me."
"You don't control your dark side. You repress it, but that just gives it power over you. There are certain things you won't do, won't enjoy, because while they're a part of you, it's the wrong part of you. Bad. Dirty." Emma took her hand away from Jen, leaving her—Sue noticed—on the verge of climax. As she panted like a marathon runner, Sue daintily nipped at her damp glove. "Oh, God, how I love you neurotic types. Jean, Scott, Kitty... I'd feared I'd run out. There's only so many hang-ups you can have when you belong to a team that dresses up in all black leather. But you, Susan..." Emma brought her hand down swiftly on Jen's sex. She-Hulk whimpered out a incongruently quiet orgasm as the sound of the slap faded away. "Oh, that jumpsuit may be form-fitting, but it covers up so much."

Sue stood abruptly. "Thank you for your time... or whatever... but this isn't for me. I'll be leaving."

Emma stood as well, putting herself in Sue's path. She peeled off her gloves. Underneath, her fingernails were a vivid shade of red. Not in keeping with her monochromatic color scheme, but somehow perfectly fitting. "Come now, Susan." She opened the vial and poured it out into her bare hand. "Surely you're only proving my point? If you are in control of your dark side, can't you admit to yourself that there's a reason you've been watching women in flagrante delicto for the past twenty minutes? That you can both indulge in recreational drug use and perhaps some sexual intercourse of your own, while still being a good wife and mother? Or would kissing me invalidate all you've done to raise your children and support your husband?"

"I don't want to kiss you," Sue said firmly.

"You want to be kissed," Emma countered with her Cheshire cat smile only growing wider. "You want to be fucked. You want to come. Why is it Reed can go to another dimension to experiment, but you can't do it in the same area code?"

Sue looked down at Emma's hand. It was full of sparkling crystals. The powder up close.

Her problem, Sue mused, was that she was a goody two-shoes who had surrounded herself with goody two-shoes. Even Johnny, for all his man-child ways, had showed worrying signs of growing up lately. Even Dr. Doom, her arch-nemesis, could be counted on to at least be forthrightly, honorably evil. Everything was black and white. It worked for her ninety-eight percent of the time.

But in quiet moments, she wondered if her life was fit to her or she was fit to it. Even her what-ifs seemed... dry. What if she'd left Reed for Namor? She'd be Queen of Atlantis. More responsibility, more children. What was there in her life that was truly dangerous?

She needed to take a risk. Not in battle, where she always had Johnny and Ben and Reed to back her up. Here. Alone. Where she could truly be herself, whoever that was.

Without a word to Emma, she took the woman's hand and brought it to her face. She breathed in deeply, trying not to smear the powder all over her face like the others had. She held her deep breath and—the soft edges of this little world got softer, colors becoming so vivid that they bled into each other.

A new, strange, but not unwelcome tingle invaded her body, spreading not from her nose or lungs, but from her cunt. It stretched out to her extremities until her fingertips, her toes were buzzing. Her nipples stiffened so much they became painful, stinging pleasant beneath her blue gown. And her cunt was now pulsing, sending waves of further pleasure out to every erogenous zone. It was like coming without coming, a lethargic desire that had her wanting-needing-wanting and almost having. She needed someone. She needed someone to free her from wanting and not having. She needed anyone.

She looked at Emma... in the blurred world, she was a pillar of white amidst a sea of welcomingly dark colors—alien and yet tempting. A diamond in the rough. Blue lips parted. White teeth gleamed like diamonds.

"Just as I thought," Emma said, like a doctor after a test had proven her diagnosis. Her hand now parted Sue's lips and slipped a finger inside. Then another, then another. Each was caked with the powder. Each entry had Sue sucking needfully. Each sucked-clean finger sent out a tidal wave of lust from her electric sex. "All you innocents... all you Madonnas... all you really need is to get fucked."

Sue saw the word—fucked—billow out into the air and slowly slip into her ear. She laughed when it got to her brain. Yes. Yes, she did needed to be fuck. How she'd overthought it, so like Reed, putting it into a bunch of big words and existential angsts when really, what more did she need than to get fucked? And why not Emma? Why not lovely, lovely Emma, who wanted her so badly? Sue liked being wanted. She was a beautiful woman. She was entitled to it.

"Your drinks, mistress," Betsy said, returning with a tray. On it was an ice bucket and something like a large cigar box.

Emma's hand was still at Sue's face, cupping it lovingly now. Showering affection on her quick-learning student. She slipped her thumb into Sue's mouth and let her suck once more. "Good, you brought an ice bucket. Let the wine chill for now. Sue and I are going to be busy. Cyclops, if you would?"

Betsy placed the box on the platform and opened it. Inside was a blue dildo with yellow straps, prodigiously sized, and with the head painted red. Sue burst out laughing.

"My one-eyed monster," Emma explained with a warm smile. Sue didn't think she'd stopped smiling since she came in. "It and Scott, who I love, are in a competition to see who can bring me more pleasure. I think this'll put him on the losing side."

Applying pressure to the hand at Sue's face, she sat her down on the platform. Betsy, perhaps of her own initiative or perhaps from Emma's mental command, picked up the strap-on and helped it onto Emma. Then, with a pat on the bare ass from Emma, she went to join Janet and Jen. They'd been lying next to each other on the cushioning, lazily touching themselves and each other, and now that Betsy was there, they touched her too.

Emma tested the straps on her apparatus. Nice and tight. "Ms. Walters. Ms. Van Dyne. Ms. Braddock. I'm very pleased to announce that you will be the first to see a new show I'm debuting at the club. The Taking of Susan Storm. Sit on your hands. You're not allowed to touch yourselves. Because when I'm done with her, Sue will be sucking on your cunts, each in turn, until you come."

Sue giggled. She liked the sound of that. How many times would she have sucked Reed's cock if he'd let her, if they'd have a proper honeymoon phase instead of a quick trip to Bora Bora and then back to the lab? Now she would make up on lost time. The world would be her husband. She'd get the fucking she was owed before time ran out.

"Mistress," she said, and opened her cunt with her fingers.

Emma looked down and shook her head disapprovingly. "Not there, where your husband's been year after year. You're going to give me something you haven't given anyone else."

And, taking hold of Sue, Emma simply flipped her over so she was bent across the platform.

"Your ass," Emma said lovingly, "is mine."

Sue felt hands running over the taut skin. She looked back and saw Emma's fixed smile had grown dreamy with enjoyment. She was lightly massaging every inch of Sue's backside, luxuriating in every bit of Sue's skin—the thighs, the cheeks, even the wet pussy right around the corner. Sue held herself up on her arms and groaned freely. It was such a wonderful change of pace from Reed, who always sought to pleasure her, but did so like he was conducting another one of his damned experiments. She got to feel like an obligation, a Bunsen burner he had to turn off before he left the lab, and it was only when something changed that she realized how sick of it she was.

Emma—lovely, lovely Emma—grabbed Sue's ass like she fucking loved ass. Liked looking at it, liked touching it, and loved fucking it. But she wasn't just satisfied to touch. Her fingers grew bolder, exerting possessive force on Sue, squeezing her like ripe fruit. Sue looked her dead in the eye and moaned like a porn star.

Emma's smile went wide. "Shame you've been such a good girl. I have no call to spank you." Nonetheless, she gave Sue's ass a quick, promising pinch. "Let's get you in trouble."

When Emma slipped a finger into her ass, Sue's moan was quite real. She snapped her teeth down automatically to control the embarrassing sound, before looking forward to see that her audience was fidgeting in their seats, lips bitten, sweat dripping, enjoying the show and the soundtrack. She favored them with another obscene moan, only halfway faked as Emma pistoned her finger delicately within Sue's virgin hole. The finger felt cold and wet, and it was only when Sue looked back again that she realized Emma was spreading lube inside her. Her strap-on was already slathered in it, glistening greasily.

Emma gave the strap-on a good luck stroke. "Open up for Auntie Emma."

Sue blinked rapidly, her only facial expression as she felt the frightening touch of Emma's strap-on—her cock. She'd been in enough fights to be used to pain, but this was so much more threatening. She was about to be penetrated, invaded, violated... split open, practically. The pain seemed so much more real than taking an laser blast. Her only reassurance was that it was Emma doing it to her. And Emma would make her feel so good...

Emma smiled to herself, a shared smile with each of the three women in the audience. A telepath, she'd felt the moment of surrender as easily as the other ladies had seen it on Sue's face. Not the consent to sex—that had precipitated as many battles as it had surrenders. It was the moment Sue closed her eyes and accepted that the White Queen knew best. That was what Emma loved best about the innocent. No matter how many times they'd fucked, when Emma was with them, she always took their virginity.

And then, Emma exerted herself. Sue's ass was tight and Emma herself showed a smidgen of gentleness, truly wanting Susan's experience to be an enjoyable one. But still, in a few moments, she was inside.

For Emma, it was unbearable pressure and shocking pain. A guttural sound escaped from her throat that she couldn't define. But she also felt a spark of pleasure, deeper and hotter than anything she'd felt in years. It burned brighter as Emma ran her hand possessively down Sue's back, taking in the breadth of her conquest.

"More," Sue said feverishly.

Emma eased her hips forward, slowly but irresistibly. Sue grunted in pain. Every inch was a certain agony, but it also brought a kind of fulfillment, a fullness, a completion. Emma was fucking her and soon—this seemed incredibly important at the moment—she'd be utterly fucked. And Emma wouldn't stop, despite the pain, despite the uncontrollable tears that ran down Sue's face. She could feel the pleasure growing in Sue's mind. She shared Sue's first-ever experience of being stretched, obscenely, more and more, the pain mounting until all of it had been wrung out of her, water from a sponge, and all that was left was—ecstasy.

Emma was buried in Sue, all the way up to the dildo's yellow straps. She leaned down, shifting the dildo deliciously in Sue's ass, to kiss the back of the Invisible Woman's neck.

And, like she'd been given permission, Sue came. Not just for herself. For the Mistress. She'd never been so filled, so possessed, so Emma's. Emma laughed evilly as Susan gushed like she'd been holding in her come for decades. She cried as she came, nothing to do with the pain, everything to do with the pleasure. Her hands slipped out from under her and she ended up face-down on the platform, every breath bringing in the scent of Betsy's sweat from when she'd laid there.

Emma bent over her, still inside and not intending to go anywhere for a while. Just taking a moment for Sue to get used to being completely and utterly fucked. Not a quickie, not a date night, not even a love affair. Having a giant length of silicone shoved up her ass by another woman and loving it.

The teacher cooed lovingly in her student's ear. "Funny thing about our little controlled substance. The side effects, as you've experienced, are most entertaining. The increase of fluid in the genital area, the heightened sensitivity, the feeling of euphoria. But even that high is not what this drug is all about. It was developed to destroy old-fashioned feelings of guilt, shame, and taboo. Give this to a Mormon closet case and he'll happily discover fun with glory holes. And for you, Susan—this is what you want without fear of remorse, regret, self-loathing... all those emotions designed to keep you in line. They obscure what you truly want. So now seems like a good time to ask. Do you want to go cold turkey and get my cock out of your ass? Or do you want another hit while I fuck you like the bitch you are?"
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Corruption Is Just Another Change of Perspective