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That Seventies Swap	By : Ksennin Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > Crossovers Views: 2020 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own neither American Hustle or X-Men, or any characters in the franchise. I make no money from publishing this work.

Chapter List
- 1-Prologue
- 2-1979
- 3-1978
- 4-1978
- 5-1978
- 6-1978
- 7-1979
- 8-1979
- 9-1979
- 7
- 8
- 9
“What are you doing in here?”
Raven looked up sharply. She’d been in Irving’s den, looking for whatever information she could find on his bank accounts—boredom and repetition had made her thoughts wander. Now Sydney Prosser, the bane/light of Rosalyn’s life had discovered her.
“Just looking for a pen,” Raven said, of course flawlessly imitating Rosalyn’s accent. “You’d think Irv would have one around somewhere.”
“They’re in the jar by the phone. Like always.”
“Really? I could’ve sworn there weren’t any.”
Sydney wouldn’t be put off so easily. Her hands were on her hips; she had a good lecture cued up. “Danny said you didn’t fix him lunch.”
“He’s a big boy. He can get himself lunch if he wants.”
Sydney shook her head. “Have you been drinking again?”
“I’m sober—” Raven restarted the sentence with a bit of outrage Rosalyn might apply. “I am sober as a judge!”
“Yeah, right.” Sydney moved in close and smelled her breath. Raven stood there and let her. She liked having Sydney that close. For a woman who couldn’t change her shape, Sydney had a pretty nice one. “You’re actually not drunk.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Raven huffed. “By the way, I know why you’re really so concerned about my drinking habits?”
Sydney folded her arms over her breasts, an eyebrow up—this ought to be good. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah—it isn’t right to have sex with a girl that’s had one too many. But when she’s clean and sober, you don’t have any excuse not to fuck her.”
Raven saw Sydney’s fingers tighten on her biceps, denting the flesh. “I—I don’t want to—that was just for Irving, I would never—“
“I came so many times that night,” Rosalyn hadn’t been specific in her diary, but her dream journal had been full of volcanoes, lightning strikes, bombs going off—“Didn’t you? Or did you hold it in until you could get to the shower and finger yourself?”
Sydney lowered her head. “I came.”
Raven put her hand on Sydney’s cheek. If Sydney thought it was a little cool to the touch, she said nothing. “And it was good, wasn’t it? Liberating. We’ve both been so frustrated lately—didn’t it feel great just to let go? Have something just for us? Irving can’t, but even if he could—that’s something else—it’s not what we have—is it?”
How many times had Rosalyn thought these words, tried to say them, wished she could? The same dream in her journal, all the time, and she kept pretending she didn’t know what it meant. Raven smiled inwardly. She wondered how relieved Rosalyn would be to come home and find that everything had been done for her so that she had exactly what she wanted.
“I don’t know what we have,” Sydney admitted, gasping when Raven leaned down and kissed her folded arms, peppering her lips along Sydney’s forearm.
“We have a surprise for you.” Raven took Sydney’s hand, drawing it out of her crossed arms, and pulling it down to her pants. As the days passed, she thought the ray was wearing off. She’d been able to shift just enough to capture the real Rosalyn’s curves, although she now preferred wearing clothes to shifting into them. But she still had enough juice for one of her favorite tricks. In the same way she could imitate a watch or a belt, she had long ago learned to shift herself a strap-on dildo. And the best part was, since it was technically part of her body, she could feel it. Just like a man would.
Sydney gasped as she felt the hard silicone surface, its sleek contours, its length. Raven smiled at her, all need and want. “And we have all the fucking you can handle,” she told Sydney. “You’ve earned it.”
There was a sofa in the corner of the den. Sydney thought a lot of the time Irving was ‘working’, he was just lying down and having a nap without any of the craziness to bother him. This was craziness too, though. The kind of craziness Sydney had gone to him for.
“Lock the door,” Sydney pleaded, and Raven nodded tightly before going to it. She stripped off all her clothes on the way there, firmly turned the lock, then turned back to Sydney. In just her skin and shifted dildo, she felt almost herself again.
Sydney didn’t undress so readily. She pulled down her jeans and her panties, kicked them off her long legs, and sat almost modestly on the sofa in her big Foreigner T-shirt. Irving had taken her to that concert.
Raven went to her. She had decided she would be gentle with Sydney, as gentle as she’d be with a virgin. Raven had used sex many, many times before to accomplish many different missions, but it’d lost none of its pleasure. She’d resolved to enjoy herself, even if it didn’t fit a hundred percent with her cover. She didn’t think Sydney would exactly mind.
She parted Sydney’s legs, kissed each of her knees, saw the thatch of ginger pubic hair waiting for a woman’s touch. She kissed above Sydney’s knees, then on her thighs—now she smelt Sydney’s arousal growing—but instead of going to it, she rose and kissed Sydney’s stomach through the T-shirt. Sydney moaned incoherently; Raven silenced her with a kiss on the lips. It kept going and going, the other one prolonging it each time one thought of letting it end. Not passionate, exactly, but a slow, unyielding sharing of lips.
Somewhere in the middle, Raven opened Sydney up with the tips of her fingers. Then, as the kiss grew more heated, she rose—Sydney tilted her head up to keep the kiss going. Raven melted their lips together; their tongues stopped their dance and the two women breathed each other as Raven lowered herself onto Sydney. Into her.
Raven was a confident woman, bordering on arrogant. She considered herself a prodigy when it came to phalluses. She had seduced some of the best cocksmen in North America, and she had replicated their techniques to masterful effect on several willing women. She found fucking Sydney easy and recklessly enjoyable, producing moans from her as effortless as tapping out a melody on a Casio keyboard.
Still, as simple as it was for her to bring Sydney to orgasm, she still loved it. She quite lost herself in Sydney’s tightness, her wetness, her heat. She didn’t even notice Irving turned his key in the door and opening it. Nor the several minutes he spent staring in awe and excitement as her ass bounced up and down, driving her cock deep inside Irving’s wife.
***
Rosalyn woke up in a hospital room right out of the Starship Enterprise. No Captain Kirk, though, damn the luck. Just a bunch of metal, a bunch of beeping things, a bunch of toning things. What were they monitoring, her or a robot?
It wasn’t long after she woke up that the nerd came in. “Raven—I’m sorry to have to tell you this. I’ve run every test I possibly can with what I have to work with and all the results came back baseline. Raven… you’re human.”
Rosalyn sat up straight. “Of course I’m fucking human! What the fuck is wrong with you? You drug me, bring me to this crazy science lab, now you’ve run tests on me—all so you can tell me I’m human? What the fuck did you think I was, a house plant?”
“Raven, please, there’s no need for this act. Whoever you think you’re impersonating now, the ray has locked you in one single form. Hey, listen, if it makes you comfortable, you could undress.” He tried a smile. “Maybe I could find some blue paint for when you’re, err, naked.”
She slapped him. “You’ve got big fucking problems, buddy, major fucking problems! And that’s before I call my boyfriend. I’m dating Pete Muscane, you piece of shit! He’s a legbreaker for the mob and when he finds out about you…”
Ignoring her, the nerd stroked his chin. “Are you really that disoriented? I knew the ray had a physiological effect, but I had no idea there could be mental degradation as well—“
“Who are you saying is mentally degraded, four-eyes!?”
He held up his hands placatingly. He seemed to do that a lot. “Alright, you’re disoriented. I should have realized that sooner, I’m sorry. My name is Hank McCoy, I’m a friend of yours. Your name is Raven. I guess I’m a little hard to recognize without the blue fur—“
Oh God, he’s a crazy person. Rosalyn immediately stopped thinking of pointing out the ways Pete Muscane would be doing Hank McCoy bodily harm. It’d come better as a surprise, anyway. Instead, she’d better play along with him. She spent all her time hanging out with a pair of grifters, after all. She should’ve picked up a thing or two. And if she’d convinced that slut Sydney that she was actually enjoying fucking her, then she could do anything.
“Raven—that sounds familiar,” she said in a soft voice. “I’m sorry. I’m not really feeling myself. Everything’s all wobbly and… blurry.” She swooned. He caught her. This con stuff wasn’t so hard. “Hank? Yeah, I… I think I remember. What happened to all your blue fur, Hank?”
“I started taking a serum, remember? To suppress my mutation? I take a shot every morning, and another if I get—worked up.”
Oh. So that’s what it was. A sex thing.
It was a guy, of course it was a sex thing.
Rosalyn used her most sultry voice. “Worked up?” she asked, innocently but with her eyes very un-innocent.
Hank swallowed hard. “Emotional. Or excited… any… natural… urges.”
Rosalyn stroked his forearm. A big kid. Just like Irving. Wanted someone to take care of him, play with him, do all the hard work. How was she supposed to respect Sydney when her job was so easy?
Wait, was Hank’s skin a little blue? “Usually I can fight it down,” he said, pulling his hand away.
Rosalyn took his hand back. “Maybe you shouldn’t fight what comes naturally.”
When she kissed him, he responded readily. God, it was a good thing she was so hot.
***
Irving thought he was being rather understanding of his wife and ex-wife wanting to screw. It was obvious to him that they were bi, and half in love with each other besides. He didn’t see what the big deal was. But the fact was, while he’d been letting them have their fun, he hadn’t gotten any in months. Even when he’d been cheating with Sydney, he’d always made sure Rosalyn was well-satisfied.
And as progressive as he was when it came to Sydney and Rosalyn’s tastes—regardless of the fact that it was quite a spectacle when they let him watch, and they usually let him watch—something in his masculine ego was just unprepared for what he caught them doing.
If they’d been feeling each other up, that’d be one thing. Fingering one another, sure, that was pretty much just masturbation. Wasn’t like Rosalyn had ever gotten angry with him for getting a handjob. Even some licking—that was what women did, that was their thing—better they do it with each other than make him do it.
But fucking with a goddamned prick of their own? That was just going too far! He was the prick, goddammit! What’s next, were they going to open tight jars without him? Get things off high shelves while standing on each other’s shoulders? Jesus wept, but there were certain things you had men for and you couldn’t just replace ‘em! That’d be like him putting on a bra and wig to eat some girl out. What was the world coming to?
When he took a wheezing breath, Raven looked in his direction. She was not the least bit shy. “Ain’t it great? Now you can just focus on getting better, Irv; we have our own cock to fuck with.”
“Your own cock? You want cock, huh? You want cock so bad, you go to some sleazy sex shop where the owner would as soon rape you as look at you, you buy some filthy plastic thing, then you strap it on and that’s a cock?”
“Irving, your heart—” Sydney started, but Raven shut her up with a quick, short thrust into her. She broke off in a moan.
“If you’re feeling up to it—” Raven glanced at his crotch. It was obvious he was feeling very up indeed. “You can join in,” she finished. “But I hope for Syd’s sake you have something good to take its place.”
Sydney marshalled her wits, even with Raven working the cock inside her. “Rosalyn, are you sure?”
Raven was. Irving wasn’t a beauty like Sydney, but he was handsome enough, with a good-sized cock. Maybe a little thin up top, but after Hank, she could do with a little less hair. And, if Rosalyn was being truthful with herself in her own diary, his lovemaking wasn’t unpleasant. Yes, Raven nodded. If she had to get caught up in a threesome with two humans, it might as well be these two. Wasn’t like Lee Majors and Farrah Fawcett were available.
Sydney was still unconvinced. She’d just gotten used to lesbianism—polygamy seemed like something else altogether. “It’s—it’s perverse.”
Smiling in a manner that was not at all like Rosalyn would wear, Raven pulled away from her, leaving Sydney abandoned with her legs open on the sofa. “Well, you’d better learn to love it,” she said. “Because you’re not getting it from me.”
“Good!” Irving told her. “Get rid of that fucking fake! You need cock? You got it!” He roared, dropping his zipper. “You can try this on for size! Both of you!”
With barely another glance at Raven, Irving dropped onto Sydney and pile-drove into her. Her legs kicked out and she moaned suitably. Irving was not a subtle man, his fucking more power than finesse, but Raven could see how it was effective. Very effective. In moments, the two of them were so far gone that they didn’t notice Raven absorbing the dildo back into her body.
Warmed by Raven’s efforts, it only took a few minutes for Sydney to begin gasping, then crying out in orgasm. Irving buried his prick in her even as he pulled Raven to him, kissing her before he started a slow rhythm inside Sydney, pressing her firmly into the cushions.
“Both of us?” Raven asked. She wanted to egg him on.
“Damn straight!” He kissed her again, fiercely. “Get on your knees and I’ll make you forget all plastic dicks!”
“I think he means it,” Sydney said breathlessly, still recovering from her climax.
“Well, if it’s that important to you…” Raven sighed, dropping to all fours beside Sydney.
Irving pulled out of Sydney, leaving her panting and sweat, and drove himself into Raven from behind, fucking her like a dog. With Sydney in the state she was, Raven thought she’d start masturbating, but she’d underestimated the other woman. Sydney threw herself up and kissed Irving for all she was worth, wanting to leach off some of the heat burning off him, like a sun they both orbited around.
Raven was growing more confident in her assessment of the threesome by the minute. Rosalyn, Sydney, they both burned cold. As much as they dressed it up in feelings or even tantrums, they used a sort of logic to determine what they wanted and then went after it. Irving, though, he was all heat, all emotion. He actually loved the both of them. He made it work, in some perverse way. They fought over him for the thrill of it.
Raven didn’t share Sydney’s emotional investment in Irving—the charge she got from fucking him right in front of, with her rival. But he knew what he was doing between her legs and she enjoyed the sight of him fucking Sydney’s face with his tongue and she rubbed her clit with her hand. She came in short order; then Irving was withdrawn from her and into Sydney, gripping her to his chest as he continued his kiss and started his invasion. Sydney’s naked ass was pressed against the armrest, her back ready to slump over it without Irving holding her up. He spread his hands on her slender, freckled back as his kiss move down to her cleavage. Raven ripped Sydney’s shirt so he could get to it.
“Fuckme!” Sydney chanted again and again, all one word, pumped out of her with every thrust Irving made against her wet cunt. “Fuckme! Fuckme! Fuckme!”
Raven didn’t do a thing to stop them. She pressed her bare breasts into Irving’s back, feeling the muscles that had developed there since his heart attack, and sucked at his neck like a vampire. He was quick to pull his mouth from Sydney and part his lips for Raven. She kissed him over his shoulder, right in front of Sydney, and either Irving was thrusting harder or Sydney was much more receptive. He froze just before he came, holding himself deep inside Sydney but not moving an inch. Irving pulled slowly, painstakingly out of her, and Sydney gritted her teeth through every inch.
Then Raven was pulling Irving out of Sydney and rolling him over so he was lying right beside Sydney. She draped her leg over his hip, climbed atop him, and lowered her ass until she felt his cockhead rasp against her clit. She kept going until he was all the way in. Held him inside her for a moment, motionless like she was meditating. Then she reached over and fingered Sydney’s cunt.
They were both overcome with lust as she rode Irving’s cock. Irving’s eyes were glazed over and his breathing raced ahead of him; Sydney was in much the same state. Raven worked her hips, raised and lowered her ass, filled herself with his cock, stretched herself wide. When the humans moved, they did it as one. Irving buried himself in her breasts, so like a guy, and Sydney kissed her. Raven rewarded the woman with another finger through her slit.
All too soon, though, Irving was switching partners again. He pushed Raven to the other end of the sofa and then threw Sydney on top of her, mounted them both so the redhead was sandwiched in the middle, getting his surging cock in her sex, Raven getting a luscious female body pressed against hers. But Irving only pumped into Sydney a dozen times before he pulled out, guided himself underneath her, and fucked into Raven.
“Take it!” he cried. “Take it! Take it all!” He continually pulled double duty, kissing the one while fucking the other, all while Sydney and Raven excitedly explored the contours of each other’s aroused bodies. Both came most satisfyingly at the end of Irving’s cock.
But, as Raven well knew, he was only human. In the end, it caught up with him, and as he pulled out of Raven, he overextended himself—fell back to the other end of the couch with his cock lurching in the air, purple-headed and double-length. Raven saw one last opportunity to one-up Sydney the Human, which she had to take if only for her own peace of mind.
She threw herself on Irving’s cock with her mouth, taking it all the way to her gullet. Golden hair fanned out like an aura as throbbing pleasure filled her mouth. Her lips tingled as she sucked; even her tongue seemed electric.
Irving clasped her head in both hands like it was a massive jewel. “Hope this is unprocessed enough for you,” he gasped.
His cock had solidified to total stiffness in her mouth, actually stretching her lips further. Now his first load, spurred by her tongue moving invitingly about the crown of his dickhead, splattered at the back of her throat. She gagged a little as it rushed down her gullet, but sucked wildly as more came to fill her belly. It got to the point where Irving thrust himself off the sofa, into Raven’s skilled mouth. He groaned out loud as she continued to lick and suck to the point of torture, until he softened in her mouth and she finally released him. Then Raven turned and displayed her cum-coated mouth to Sydney.
Sydney was ready for her. She simply grabbed the other woman and pulled her into a hard, sour kiss. By the end of it, Raven thought Sydney had gotten more of Irving’s cum than she had. By the time the cum had dwindled away between both sets of lips, Irving was sprawled on his back, out like a light.
“He did it,” Sydney breathed. “Fucked us both at once. I thought he could… but I didn’t know.”
Raven nodded in agreement. It hadn’t been bad at all—for a human.
***
Hank was turning blue. God, the guy was actually so nervous around her, he couldn’t breathe. Rosalyn kept on kissing him. It’d served him right if he did pass out. She rubbed her thigh against his groin and felt his cock jump to life. Bigger than she’d expect for such a poindexter. When she looked up in his eyes, his handsome face was contorted almost bestially. Rosalyn took his glasses off. That was better.
“C’mon, you filthy animal—fuck me.”
“You want an animal?” His breath virtually steamed out of his mouth. “I’ll show you an animal!”
He wrenched her around so fast her head spun, savagely shoved her down atop the exam table, face down. Her dress was flipped up, her panties ripped down, and she knew the ripe white cheeks of her ass were now on display. His soft hands were rough now, opening up thighs to expose her defenseless cunt. Then he mounted her, half lying on top of her quivering ass to get his hot cock into her yielding passage.
Rosalyn cringed far forward, but there was no escape from his ramrod cock. She whimpered wildly as he started thrusting into her; a savage, masochistic delight was born from his harsh strokes. Her hands tightly gripped on the edge of the table, Rosalyn arched her back and flung herself against the lunging penetration. She hoped Irving could forgive her for giving into this wanton sex maniac. And if he couldn’t, fuck him. At least Hank wasn’t some ginger bitch like Sydney.
“Brute! You vicious brute!” Rosalyn cried, feeling his penis getting thicker and longer every second. Wasn’t there an end to it? Behind her, she could hear guttural noises from Hank. She thought she could make out clothes ripping as well. Always the quiet ones… “Harder! Harder, you bastard!”
She was close, maddening close—no escalation to ready her for the sheer need she felt. All the stress and frustration of the day, then suddenly being able to lose herself in a hot fuck… her body rebelled, demanding all of the pleasure it was offered. She bucked beneath Hank uncontrollably, every movement demanding that it satisfy her. Abruptly, she felt his cock harden like cooling magma. Then it burned hotter than ever, spurting inside her once, twice, again. Rosalyn groaned in disappointment, feeling the peak of her orgasm still within range, seconds away, close enough to touch. But she knew from married life that here was where the night ended.
Only it didn’t. After a moment’s diminishment, Hank’s member throbbed inside him more powerful than ever. He picked up the pace, now churning his own cum inside her, Rosalyn feeling it leak out of her tortured pussy. She gaped and looked back, wondering if he had somehow slipped in a dildo without her noticing it.
Hank paused as she looked at him in wide-mouthed shock. Blue fur had sprouted up all over his body, covering the burgeoning muscles that had taken over his lanky frame, rending his clothes in some places. His facial features had been distorted into a bestial mask, with sharp teeth replacing the ones he had smiled with before. Only his glasses remained on to tie together his monstrous new face with the old, nebbish one.
“Oh my God!” Rosalyn cried. “Why are you stopping? Don’t stoooop!”
That was the difference between her and those two idiots she lived with. She always had her priorities in order.
***
Alex acted as air traffic control as the away team brought the X-Jet in for a landing. The Professor, Logan, and Remy had been successful in destroying Trask Industries’ anti-mutation ray, but there was always the danger that blueprints or prototypes had survived. So the Professor had split the team, sending the others to find the ray’s victim and devise a cure. They regrouped for a debriefing—all except for Logan and Remy, who wanted a drink instead.
“Someone wants to shoot a laser at me and steal my mutation, they’re welcome to try,” Logan said.
Remy added “I’m still the Gambit, mutation or no.”
Honestly, Alex was okay with an accent-free debrief.
***
Xavier ran his hands through his thinning hair. “Hank, you told me it should have worn off by now. She only received a low dosage, right?”
“Actually, it may be worse than I anticipated.” Hank moved his glasses up his nose, almost to his still moist hair. He was freshly showered and his clothes were new. “Raven’s shown no sign of being able to shift, and she’s evidenced extreme disorientation. For the longest time, she insisted she wasn’t Raven, but a house wife named Rosalyn Rosenfeld.”
“Rosalyn Rosenfeld?” Xavier asked, turning his wheelchair around. Why did that name seem familiar? “Anything else?”
“No—but, well—” Hank opened his mind, inviting Xavier’s telepathy. Before, when we had intercourse, she was always on top, but this time…
Xavier eyed him intensely. “That’s my sister you’re thinking about, Hank.”
“Sorry, Professor.”
“I’ll see what I can do for her,” he said intently. “I know she doesn’t like me poking around her brain, but perhaps, under the circumstances…”
A few minutes later, Xavier returned to the rec room, where Alex and Hank were playing two-on-one foosball with Peter, who had one arm behind his back. Hank was the first to notice and go check on the stricken psychic, which Alex would never forgive him for. If they’d let Peter go, maybe they would’ve beaten him.
“That,” Xavier said firmly, “is not my sister.”
“Told ya, Mr. Clean.” Rosalyn walked by him, rubbing his bald head. “Now can we get me in a jet back to Jersey? I’m not paying cab fare for my own kidnapping! And the cabbies these days, I swear—if you can’t speak English, how can I trust you to drive a car? How do you know what the P stands for?”
Alex leaned over to Xavier. “You were inside her head?”
“That is… how does someone even know that much about the Home Shopping Network?”
- 7
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That Seventies Swap