SUBMISSION AGENDA 08:

ENDGAME

The final book of Submission Agenda, and the longest, as the key players in the entire tale are brought together, secrets are revealed and Miles plots to bring about the ultimate destruction of the Marvel Universe and all its various timelines.

All feedback is much appreciated at the new email address: benchleyfan01@yahoo.com.

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(XLIV) BETRAYAL

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” murmured my Phoenix from beside me.

The delicate body of Lilandra Nerami lay before us on the floor of the Danger Room, still garbed in her flight uniform. And yet I could still make out her almost dainty figure and her features, whilst clearly alien and disturbing different were still recognisably attractive. The consort of Xavier was mine. But more than that, before us lay the key to revealing the true potential of the Phoenix Force that flowed through us both. Lilandra was our destiny.

Her arrival on Earth had been somewhat less than graceful. Her craft had seemed like a bright star, slowly moving towards us – as it entered the atmosphere a vast pyrotechnic tail followed it. Unnatural wind and rain blasted us, a small psionic forcescreen protecting us from the elements as we watched the craft in the skies. Watching it zero in our location as we stood in the grounds of the X-Men mansion was somewhat unnerving. Looking a fireball in the face. The impact was massive – instantly the Phoenix Effect had erupted around us, protecting us from the incredible explosion. And still the sheets of rain continued, the harsh conditions that had been constant for days now. It was as if nature itself was rebelling against the new order I was imposing upon the world. Little did I suspect that it was worse. Far worse, a portend of absolute calamity.

But at that time, it was a moment of triumph as we made our way to the impact point: a small one-man craft, Lilandra safely in stasis within. The time had come when Xavier was being forced to call upon all of his reserves in his clandestine attempt to strike back. Too little, too late. And this time he would pay the ultimate price.

I looked around the dull metal surroundings of the Danger Room, instantly willing the environment to blur into a holographic haze, ordering it to re-assemble as Lilandra’s own bedchamber. The neural interface between myself and the mansion’s Shi’ar technology was now perfect – the blueprint for the chamber stored within the memory banks. I smiled to myself – Xavier would have programmed this himself for Lilandra’s visit, to make her feel more at home. Now it would be I that would make use of it. And her comfort was the last thing on my mind.

“Prepare her,” I commanded, knowing that my interest in the Empress was shared by my consort.

I saw telekinetic powers lift the Majestrix from the floor, effortlessly shredding her costume, manoeuvring her slowly to her bed. Phoenix and I and followed her, and feeling her hand grasp mine, I moved closer to view our prize.

Lilandra’s body seemed to be the absolute physical manifestation of grace and elegance, even as she slept. Long, perfectly toned legs, slight evidence of feathers along her soft inner thighs… her body was hairless, the occasional crest of understated feathers were visible along her sides, between her small breasts. She possessed the tiniest of nipples, each peaking sweetly on her tit flesh. Her cunt was anatomically similar to a human, no pubic hair – again just a soft, downy thatch of small dark feathers.

Bird meets mammal. An evolutionary impossibility. Of course, the original wielders of the Phoenix Force hadn’t cared for the niceties of evolution several million years ago. With the power at their disposal it had been child’s play to re-render the DNA of the original Shi’ar – carving them into a race of pleasure-slaves. A race that after countless generations rose up and annihilated their creators. The race that had been so swift to destroy the original Dark Phoenix – even though they would only tackle her after the X-Men had driven her from Jean Grey’s mind.

I could feel the Phoenix Force grow within me – within us. My Dark Phoenix wanted to begin… but looking at the desirable form of Xavier’s consort, I began to feel a fear inside of me. This bitch was the key to the Phoenix Force, and thus the key to the ultimate objective of the Agenda. And yet…

“She bothers you, doesn’t she?” Phoenix remarked, moving behind me and rubbing my shoulders. “You’re hesitating. Just like before…”

“This is different,” I snapped, trying to pull away from the Phoenix’s pleasurable ministrations to my neck.

“Different slave, different circumstances, same solution… You’re the Master… fuck her, break her… I can feel it inside of you… it’s your nature… it’s what’s brought us this far…” Her voice in my ear, so soft and soothing, yet edged with the silky desire that enflamed my arousal.

“Mary Jane was different… we did what we had to because we had no choice. You gave me no choice.”

“I know, we ourselves were slaves to our instincts… but we had a fucking good time doing it, lover… don’t you forget…”

Her hands on my temples, a soft rubbing, the feel of her gently pushing memories back into my mind’s eye… Mary Jane…

****

Four naked redheads on my bed, bodies writhing in sexual motion… the air alive with their moans, leaden down with the smell of raw female sex, pleasure heavy in the air… my sister Stephanie and both Phoenixes, surrounding her, taking her… no, more than that… raping her… Kneeling on the bed apart from the three of them, Mary Jane Watson… naked, hand hovering over her pussy, unsure whether what she was watching was arousing her… a quick mindscan – it was and it disgusted her.

I don’t know what I felt, the feelings were red hot and needle sharp at my heart. All at once I felt the sudden shards of lust rush through my body. Watching the two Phoenixes work together as one was a sight that will light a fire in my memories for the rest of my life, watching them work over my sister intensified it to the next level. And yet, MJ was set apart from it, not a part of the punishment being meted out. Rough girl sex forced on my sister, the emotions of retribution and punishment flowing from them both.

A split-second and I was inside my sister’s mind. Another few seconds and the imagery cascaded through my consciousness until I had assimilated it all.

Even mind-shackled as she was, the Enchantress still plotted to gain control over me… she had fastened her hold on my sister and then sought to use her to bring Mary Jane under her control too. My sister and the woman I… the woman who confused me… the goddess would have much to gain by controlling them both. And the plan had been so perfectly conceived too. Truly the Enchantress would never cease her schemes against the servitude I had forced upon her, no matter what lessons she was taught.

“He’s been away a long time hasn’t he Mary Jane?”

The scene, the Bedford Towers, specifically MJ’s quarters there. Fuck, it had been a long time since I had been with MJ… a long time since I had sought her simple pleasures… Wanda’s infection of me with the black sorcerous scum had dampened my enthusiasm to… making love… and the Agenda… it had to be continued… and MJ… she does something to me…

My sister had dressed to seduce, and to do so sluttily – black lacy bra and microskirt, high heels, nothing else. MJ had instantly been captivated by her breasts… so large on so small a frame… she remembered suckling, remembered the sensations…

“Oh yes… it’s all coming into focus now, isn’t it? You miss him… you miss what he can give you… and you know that I can help those wonderful cravings of yours… and you crave all right don’t you Mary Jane?” The voice, level, deep and seductive… I’d heard it before… that voice of my sister’s is hard to resist… “Don’t you?”

The voice harder this time, a hand under MJ’s chin, forcing her to look into my sister’s deep green eyes. My lover trembled under her touch, cooing softly as the hand moved to stroke her cheek tenderly. How odd the scene must have looked, teenager seducing an older lover… but then again, my sister had fucked more often and with more men - and women – than most twice her age.

“Y-y-yes… I do…” MJ stuttered, eyes returning to Stephanie’s swelling tits, feeling her mouth begin to water involuntarily. She could remember the taste, remembered how slick and creamy she was… but more importantly she could remember the aftertaste in her mouth… so similar to the feel of my own cum… the need in her increased, her desire skyrocketed. I could feel her confusion, her deep devotion to me betrayed by her chemical needs…

“Say it louder Mary Jane… tell me what you want.” My sister exultant in her obvious power, her mind alive with the coming pleasures, and the rewards her mistress would give her. My own sister betraying me. “Tell me what you want!”

“I…” Confusion… guilt… need…

“Yes?” Irritation… impatience… desire…

“I need you…”

“I need you Mistress.”

“Yessss…. Mistress…”

A spear of deep hate impaled my heart. Betrayed by Stephanie… my own sister… no… I couldn’t believe it. But clearly once again I had underestimated the power of the Enchantress, taken her for granted almost, so confident in my own abilities to enslave her. I smirked to myself wryly… enslaving a goddess? How could I have been so stupid? The Phoenixes had not been so remiss in their duties – they had been watching Stephanie and now they struck, descending on the pair, psychically freezing Mary Jane and then setting to work on my sister.

The air alive with the sound of ripped clothing, the squeals of Stephanie’s protests, one Phoenix laughing and holding her down as the other kneeled above my sister, head thrown back in rapture as she rubbed and squeezed her own breast, masturbating it wildly, jerking it, pulling on her nipple, back arching in triumph and ecstasy as her milk orgasmed from her tit, arcing over my sister, splashing as it landed. Again and again, the liquid burning into Stephanie’s skin as she writhed at the rock solid restraints of the other madly grinning Phoenix.

A massive burst of kinetic energy ripped the air open as my consort shed all four of them of their clothing, mere scraps of cloth covering them. Stephanie’s cunt cruelly rubbed – deeply and unceremoniously – but still she responded, feeling the heat and the power of the Phoenix Force resonate through her. I walked up to Mary Jane, my face impassive, and turned her to watch the rape of my sister.

I reached into her mind and made her watch, even as she tried to close her eyes. Physically, I made her deep inner cunt churn with arousal as each finger was forced into Stephanie’s red-raw pussy. I made her enjoy the sight of the other Phoenix forcing her down by pushing her knees down on my sister’s shoulders. I made her pant with desire and let her feel her own self-disgust as she thrilled to the sight of both Phoenixes pissing on her, laughing manically, one hand plunged deep into my sister’s forever needy hole.

But even I had to stop them, an instinct inside of me finally beginning to come into conscious focus. My sister’s final role in the Agenda was still to be played out. But the Phoenixes were not yet sated – both turned on Mary Jane. My insides were set on fire as they opened their minds to me. I joined with them, seeing MJ for what she was – nothing important. Just a pawn, a diversion, a means of amusement as I waited for the next episode of the Agenda to unfold. I should have seen it then. I should have realised the power that Phoenix could exert over me. Thinking about it now, I just don’t understand how they managed to do it. How could they poison me against sweet, precious Mary Jane?

****

The dungeon had been perfect. Divided into two by a row of bars, a small door allowing access between the two halves of the room. Mary Jane had looked stunning, handcuffed to the bars, spread-eagled, head thrown back, tits jutting between the cold metal, red cuntal thatch pressed tightly against the rounded alloy, her body illuminated by a circle of candles around her. A Phoenix on either side of the bars, Madelyne behind her, my true consort in front of her. The girl was terrified.

Her pleading to me sounded like words in a foreign language. The confusion seemed to be over. The Agenda was starting to come together, focus was now close to being achieved. There was no room for the feelings I had once had for Mary Jane. Now there was only retribution, revenge – and a deep desire for my seed to conquer and overwhelm. Multiple images flooded my mind simultaneously.

My cum staining Mary Jane’s face, mingling with her tears.

Mary Jane kneeling before me, arms around my hips as she suckled happily at my weeping cock.

Mary Jane the handmaiden sharing my bed with the Dark Phoenix, the mortal plaything of her godlike Master and Mistress.

But in the present, Madelyne was grinding her wetness on the small of MJ’s back, laughing deeply, both hands on her tits, rubbing her nipples against the soft skin in front of her, enjoying the smear of all her fluids in front of her – watching the mind-maddening issue of her body succumb to gravity, gently flowing down, to her ass, into her crack… the screams of Mary Jane’s response, her asshole on fire.

My Phoenix looking deep into her eyes, enjoying her reaction, letting her nipples kiss her prey’s. MJ’s head jerking left and right, the sensations literally driving her out of my mind. My prick stood to attention as I watched. I held on tight as I felt my own liquids stir. I would not let them go to waste. I smiled as I finally saw the first indication of MJ’s unconscious submission – her hips grinding slowly, knowing her cunt’s resistance was loosening… there was pleasure to seek from the hard metallic bar that was pressed between her legs. Her wet lips splayed around the metal as she moved.

Only moans of pure contentment issued forth from her mouth as she stared spellbound into Phoenix’s eyes. Both Phoenixes grasped the bars above MJ’s head and I could feel them begin to pour tiny fractions of their power into the conducting metal. The gradually submitting slave convulsed in complete rapture, the grinding at the bar becoming a sudden spastic fucking, her body flailing to bring her nipples, her breasts, into sweet contact.

My Phoenix laughed into her face, Madelyne behind her wrapping her legs around Mary Jane, pushing her own legs between the bars and around the sweet prey, humping at the small of her back in a frenzy, letting her tits drool on her skin, biting her neck, spitting on her, drenching the trapped slave. My consort raised herself, pushing one breast through the bars, offering the teat to Mary Jane’s lips. The eye contact remained, the Mistress locked onto her slave as MJ looked up into her eyes, taking the proffered nipple into her mouth and sucking hard, taking all that was offered. After a minute or so, the Phoenix pulled free, letting her tit jet over Mary Jane’s face, over her own hands. Milk-covered hands grasped MJ’s tits and squeezed them hard. Lost in a stupour beyond orgasm, Mary Jane found herself pushed beyond all physical limits of pleasure. She mentally welcomed each new perversion as her body felt things she never thought possible.

Her asshole on fire with delicious pleasure, each new wave of fluid that covered her redefining the meaning of physical pleasure.

Swollen breasts feeling larger than basketballs, all nerves charged with rapture.

Thighs smeared with her own issue, her own juices. Cunt open and exposed.

Unchained and unfastened, both Phoenixes brought her mentally broken body before me, my consort smiling in contentment and triumph. She reached down and pulled Mary Jane’s head back by her fleece of red hair, showing me how small and pathetic this girl had become, she would be nothing until together we remade her. The triumph in her eyes gleamed with recognition that she had murdered all the feelings I might have ever had for Mary Jane Watson. She was wrong.

I felt my heart beat faster, enjoyed each surge of blood into my prick. It was reaching capacity. I would not hold on much longer. I pulled back my foreskin, allowing the glans to become purple, angry and uninhibited. I joined Phoenix’s deep stare and smiled as she pushed Mary Jane’s face closer. I could feel her breath on my scrotum. It was enough. I felt the surge of precum jet onto her flinching face.

“Possess her my Master,” Phoenix softly intoned, the feel of MJ’s plump lips encircling my cock, taking it into her mouth. Sucking. The swirl of her tongue. More wet surges. Her arms encircling my hips, just as in my imagination, pulling my jerking prick deeper into her face.

Both Phoenixes stood back to enjoy the spectacle of MJ’s suckling – like a babe on her mother’s breast, sucking me deeper and harder, as though it was her absolute mission in life, total desire coursing through her, free will deserting her with each strand of my juices that pumped into her mouth and into her body. And that night in bed, my consort and I sandwiched her delectable body between ours… and we took her deeply. More deeply than she had ever experienced in her life. We took her mind, we took her body – we fucked her and drenched her and made her more beautiful than she ever had been before.

****

“Mary Jane was different… we did what we had to because we had no choice.”

“I know, we ourselves were slaves to our instincts… but we had a fucking good time doing it, lover… don’t you forget…”

I smiled. Instinct. Race memories. You could even call them implants. They felt like them… they didn’t come from me, or her. It felt so… right… to take Lilandra. Her body screamed out for our touch. My own mutant power, my mastery of pheromones… it was nothing compared to the siren call of the inviting flesh in front of us. My Phoenix could sense it too, I knew it.

“I see it now my consort… it’s all so clear… total submission… Lilandra will kneel before us… worship us as her god and goddess…”

“She was destined to come to us,” she replied softly, as rapt as I in admiration of the flesh before us.

“Mary Jane was not do so different after all… Lilandra will struggle but she too will give herself to us…”

“Yesssss Master…”

“And Xavier will be defeated the moment he steps forward…”

(XLV) LILANDRA’S DESTINY

The material wasn't silk. Silk didn't exist on the Shi’ar homeworld. Their alternative had the same look, but the texture... even softer, even more yielding, even more complementary against the skin. Between the sheets, the body of Lilandra Nerami, the mighty Empress... ours... Xavier's counterstrike was barely worth the effort. Each team member was effectively neutralised. I didn't even have to give the matter any more than a cursory thought. Now I could concentrate on a far more pleasurable pursuit.

A quick mental command folded the holographic sham of Lilandra's bedroom around me, making me invisible to our prey. My Phoenix stood before the large bed, naked, staring down at each supple curve of the Empress's body through its soft covering. It was a pleasure to watch her... to see what she had become. From the cornerstone of Xavier's hope, to the instrument of his downfall. A licentious, fuck-crazy woman, liberated in her sexual needs yet driven by them, embracing them, allowing them to shape and control her – the Phoenix Force giving her all the power she required to achieve her ends.

She knelt beside the Empress, stroked her face, smiling... Lilandra's eyes opening, hazy mind slowly clearing, her eyes opening wider with fear. I bonded with my consort, became one with her. It was the closest I would get to the Empress for now. Somehow, her alien make-up made her impervious to our mind probes.

“You...” she observed simply, straightening up in the bed, pulling up her silk-like sheet to cover her nakedness.

“Oh Lilandra... you really should not have come. You can see that now, can't you?”

“All I see is one of Charles's greatest allies reduced... broken down into a mere tool... a toy...”

My Phoenix felt no anger... she smiled... again she stroked Lilandra's cheek softly, drinking in her exotic sexiness, enjoying the feel of her, imagining the proud woman convulsing in ecstasy, her mind slowly breaking.

“A toy... me? How ironic... the Phoenix Force grows within me again Lilandra. And now I know the truth. Now I know why you wanted to destroy me before. Masked behind your concern for the galaxy was a self-serving agenda.”

The telepathy did not work, but mind-reading was not required to see the building horror, the rising fear, the growing understanding. Lilandra shifted in the bed, moving away from the former X-Man.

“Oh yes we know all about the beginnings of your race now. Pleasure sluts to the former Phoenix master race. Fuck toys for a race of gods. Brood mares, genetically designed to propagate their species. Oh yes, we know all right. We also know now of your specific... weaknesses...”

Lilandra looked around, trying to find some way of escape, panic building within her.

“Charles is coming for me. You must know that. He's coming for you and your Master. Oh yes, we know everything. We know what you're doing. And even if we fall, the galactic empires will mobilise. You're doomed! It is not just the Shi’ar that will not tolerate another rise of the Phoenix.”

Phoenix shifted, lifting herself onto the bed, kneeling next to Lilandra, moving closer, running her hand over the silk-like sheets, tracing the outline of her body. My consort felt a thrill of excitement build in her belly, moving through her body, quickening her heart, feeling the thrill well in her cunt.

“You only came for me before when Xavier had locked up the Phoenix Force inside my mind. I can see why now... you're shivering Lilandra. Just in my presence you are a slave to your genetic coding. You were built to service us. Beneath your civilisation is the simple fact that you are mine. You can feel the presence of the Phoenix. Your needs grow. Your body, right at this moment, is preparing itself to be enjoyed. Already your mind is beginning to soften.”

Lilandra closed her eyes, her shivering turning into a pronounced shaking, uncontrollable.

“Keep away from me!” I heard panic now. “Don't touch me!”

My Dark Phoenix smiled, letting the power flow through her, feeling the Force surge, directing it to her fingers, satisfied as a fiery glow encompassed her hands. She pulled the sheet down, running both hands down the Empress's body. She screamed. She howled. She shook and she fought the ecstatic, flaming, burning sensations that torched her skin, set her on fire inside, made her alive for the first time in her life. Phoenix pulled back on the power, but moved up, cupping her small, perfect breasts, caressing them, moaning softly as she felt them respond, surging, nipples instantly becoming bullet-hard, the Empress arching her back.

“Good slut,” Phoenix smiled. “A slave to the power, just as I knew you were.”

Just as I knew she was too. Lilandra's threat of her galactic allies turning up in force to fight the Agenda amused me a great deal. As if I even cared about the future of this doomed world. Only the present concerned me. As for Lilandra, the past condemned her before she was even born. The Shi’ar was a slave race to the Phoenix. Somehow they rose up and destroyed their masters, but they could not destroy the power that fuelled them – the power that my Phoenix and I now tapped into and enjoyed.

I watched, aroused, as I saw my consort take Lilandra's face in her hands. I thrilled as they kissed... and kissed deeply, Lilandra's mouth instantly yielding, allowing the redhead's tongue to enter her, to impale her, the swift darting of her tongue fucking her. The Empress moaned, the feeling of Phoenix's tongue stroking her lips driving her crazy, driving her mad, driving the resistance from her mind. The woman that had once been Jean Grey pulled away from the kiss. The madness abated – fear returned to Lilandra's eyes.

Phoenix smiled. “You know it would be so easy to take you. I could remove your free will from you in a matter of micro-seconds.”

“Just do it then,” Lilandra sneered. “You know the truth. You know I am powerless. Why not get it over with? Delay too long and Charles will catch up with you... especially here, in his home.”

“You presume too much,” Phoenix sighed. “Xavier is no danger. We have been attempting to tempt him from his hideaway for many weeks... the fact is, he is scared. He won't face us.”

The redhead smiled, rising up, pushing her massive, magnificent breasts forward, closing her eyes, willing a drip of milk to appear on her left nipple.

“You look thirsty,” she smiled, pulling Lilandra's head towards her breast, feeling the Empress yield immediately to her touch, enjoying the instant acquiescence.

A mixture of desire, fear, shame and disgust on the Empress's face... and yet, her mouth opened obligingly... she pouted her lips, pulled the proffered nipple. She sucked, feeling the warm jet blast into her mouth, into her mind, into her very soul.

She sucked harder. With every new drop, she could feel the tiniest, smallest, almost imperceptible taste of the Phoenix Force. She sucked harder. She wanted more. My consort moaned softly, allowing her slave to continue, shuddering softly with every swallow. Each shudder physical evidence of a small orgasm wracking her elegant body, each one building her higher… higher…

****

“Whatever she does to me, whatever she gives you... you just can't stay away from me.”

My mind moved back. Away from this scene. Back into recent memory.

I had just given Mary Jane a gift. A collar, fashioned from black lace. I liked to see her wear it, I liked to see her toss her wonderful mane of red hair back, allowing me to come from behind her and fasten it. Black lace, with just a small metal ring at the front. It looked wonderful on her.

“It's like you are two different people. Cruel, powerful and sadistic when you are with her... so different when we are alone. Just... tell me... why?”

I ran my hand through her hair, kissing her neck, my tongue licking around the collar, moving my hands over her bare arms, to her flat stomach, upwards... cupping her large, soft, perfect breasts. Squeezing. Nipples trapped between my fingers. I pulled. I felt her hiss, moan, felt her laboured breathing.

She was right of course, I couldn't stay away from her. My consort and I fucked her, messed with her body, messed with her brain. But it was a temporary thing. As soon as I was alone with her again, as soon as I was inside her again, she was the Mary Jane that... confused me... all the conditioning compartmentalised, put away. Nothing more than an unpleasant/ rapturous experience. So easy to take it all away. So easy to make her my girl again. Only this time she’d be my girl forever and not Phoenix, not any one, would hurt her.

She turned, looked at me with those deep green eyes. I could see the need in them. The passion. The attraction. The question. Why?

“I saw you first on a pantyhose commercial. Can't remember how young I was. As soon as I saw your red hair, the curve of your legs, the suggestion of your breasts... I wanted you. You gave me urges I'd never had before. Instant hard-on. Wouldn't go away until I'd jerked off.”

She smiled, giggled a little. God she was fucking gorgeous.

“Teenage crush! Fantastic!”

I sighed. “I'm still only 16 for Christ's sake, MJ, eight years younger than you. But whatever, there was something about you... after that things went crazy. My sister looked more and more like you. I fucked her within the week. Then the night of the prom a month later. Prom queen was a redhead, big tits, just like you. I had her too. Sex was easy for me. Took me a little while to figure it all out.”

Mary Jane held me closely, stroked her cheek against my chest.

“She looks a lot like me.”

Undue emphasis on ‘she’ – ‘she’ meaning Phoenix. I nodded.

“She touches something inside of me. Something that makes me do the things I am doing. I don't even know what it's all about. It's like I'm not really in control, the Agenda is guiding me. Phoenix feeds me with her power. Everything makes sense.”

She looked up.

“And I touch something else, don't I? And what is this Agenda?”

****

“You're gonna lick me now Lilandra.”

The Empress nodded eagerly, watching hungrily as Phoenix leaned back, spread her legs wide, red-trimmed snatch weeping in anticipation. The Empress hunched forward, leaned down, stroked my consort's thighs... spread them wider... drool built up in her mouth, her eyes shone with desire, she shook with need. Her mouth still yearned to taste her more – the breast milk not enough. She breathed heavily as her tongue drew closer. She was in a state of need. Her body had been shaken with a small orgasm with each suck on Phoenix's nipples – the flow of the Phoenix Force into her body serving to set off a series of sexual explosions that drove her to seek higher pleasures.

She had given in too easily. She felt somehow... safe. She knew that Professor Charles Xavier would come for her. She has perhaps been expecting a confrontation with the Phoenix Force. As I watched her dive into Phoenix's boiling snatch, I knew she was enjoying this too much. It didn't feel right. They had known about Jean Grey's descent. They knew about her 'master'. But how much did they know? The lack of mental power over her was maddening. Using the Phoenix Force to probe her mind would unleash pleasure – nothing else.

She moaned as she french-kissed my consort's sex, tongue darting out, licking... sucking... her oral digit moving into her, curling, pleasuring... Phoenix's hands on her head, pushing her deeper, screaming a simple “YES!”

Lilandra Nerami's tongue was a ladle, scooping more orgasmic pleasure into her mouth with every taste of Phoenix she could get. She shook, she moaned, she orgasmed constantly. It made her want more. She was insatiable.

Xavier had planned this. He knew about Lilandra and the Phoenix Force. Knew that the two women would mesh like this. Slave and Mistress by celestial command, both locked into their needs. Lilandra was designed to eliminate or neutralise the Phoenix. Presumably his defeated cadre were to take me on, or clear the way for his arrival. He would be rescheming now.

Phoenix grinding Lilandra's head into the sheets, smearing her cunt on her lips, fucking wildly on her face, the change in position letting her take control. She was marking her new possession.

They knew about me. Xavier figures on muscle to take me out. Keep Jean occupied, eliminate what they perceive to be the power – the Queen on the chessboard. They don't know that I have the Phoenix Force too. Lilandra doesn't know. Lilandra enjoys women, uses them for sex while Xavier is away. Lilandra fucks too good – technique isn't part of the genetics. Lilandra enjoys herself with Phoenix. Too much.

****

“At first I thought I knew the Agenda was. So many of these superheroines, so powerful, so gorgeous. I wanted to take them down a peg, make them my fuck slaves just as my sister was. Once the inheritance came through, I went for supermodels, access was easy. They were easy. The whole thing started when I saw footage of Jean Grey. That same hard-on I had for you came back with a vengeance. This time it took my sister 14 hours to get rid of it. She was a changed girl by the end of it. I was shaping her.”

“You shaped me too. Shaped me differently. With no Agenda.”

She was kissing my nipples now, stroking my chest, my stomach. Mary Jane touched me tenderly, gently, rewarding me for the information, for the ‘why’. She was right again – she did touch something else deep inside. I felt my cock spasm as blood rushed into it, hardening it, making it ready for more of the tender touches that Mary Jane would give me. I moaned softly, my body tingling with her caresses. She smeared her breast against my flowing hardness, wetness on her soft tit flesh as she continued to worship my body. Throbbing, pleasure, the feeling of my juices flowing over her soft flesh exquisite – kisses on my thighs, both hands palming my cock, wrapping themselves around it, jerking me... warmness on the tip... wetness... her plump lips engulfing me. Rapture as she sucked, tongue swirling around my prick... feeling myself begin to flood her mouth. She wanted more.

She blew me deeply and I was in heaven. My heart beat faster. Ecstasy from my body... and somewhere else too. I didn't have to make her do it. She did it herself. Because she wanted to. Just as she had wanted that little piece of black lace around her neck.

****

Phoenix looked down at the smiling Lilandra. She'd ridden her good. The Empress was smeared in her juices, eyes alive with fucklusts that she barely managed to control. We had been too reserved with the flow of the Phoenix Force. It had just served to arouse her, to feed her desires, to make her wild, to make her fuck so good.

She smiled back at Lilandra, again caressing her face. Talking down to her. Patronising.

“You think it's all been worked out, don't you? You keep me occupied here. Key personnel in our little game taken care of by Wolverine and his little cadre. Xavier comes in to claim victory,” she paused, judging reaction. “But the fact is that your friends are doomed. You are lost to them. You will become one of us. Everything is proceeding according to plan.”

Lilandra still had the smile stuck on her face. The fucked up hormones shooting through her body, the results of trying to suck the Dark Phoenix dry.

“And much as I enjoyed your tongue and your slutty little body, the plain and simple truth is that you have a destiny to live up to.”

My cue. Rolling back the holographic walls. Give her a good look – young man dressed in a black jumpsuit with the Dark Phoenix motif, golden-red sash finishing off the effect. A touch over-dramatic maybe, but effective nonetheless. Lilandra got the plot immediately, she rose up from the bed, tried to get away, only to find the strong arms of my consort holding her firm.

“How does that feel mighty Empress?” the Dark Phoenix asked mockingly. “How does it feel to know how vulnerable you are? You know why we allowed you to get close now. A ripe, ready, in-season Shi’ar brood mare. The Empress herself bent to our will, impregnated by us, bearing the child that will rule the galaxy.”

I smiled, rising from my seat, walking slowly to the bed. Phoenix's hands on her shoulders, pushing the Shi’ar whore towards me. I watched her squirm. I enjoyed her resistance.

Beneath the jumpsuit, I felt the urges spear themselves into my prick, felt the flow of blood bring about the beginnings of my erection. The sight of my consort sated, her issue staining her prey is hard to ignore. And Lilandra herself was a picture – smeared in juices she would become addicted to, genetically thrilled and hooked on the Phoenix power that flowed through us both.

The redhead's words excited me a great deal. As a human, as a mutant, I was not fertile. I would never father any children. Call it the price I have to pay for the more... interesting... characteristics of my mutant capabilities. But this would be different. Let the Phoenix Force take over – let it flow through my cum. Watch it find its way into the Empress's fertile womb. Fuck her. Impregnate her. Watch her belly rise. Call it insurance. If the Agenda worked out, I had the feeling that it would be irrelevant. If it didn't, fathering the most powerful entity in the cosmos, her Empress mother my willing slave would be spectacular protection.

“You can't do this... you don't know what you're doing... you'll kill us all! The galaxy... reality itself will be torn apart!”

“Oh Lilandra,” I replied, shaking my head. “This reality is fucked any way. But the universe has a way of righting itself and you have your part to play in its destiny. I can feel the Phoenix Force. Unlike the last rise of the Phoenix, both myself and the woman you know as Jean Grey are fully in control. There is no rapacious hunger for power, merely an enjoyment of its uses. Destiny led you to us. Now it is time for you to be enjoyed.”

I ran my eyes over her body – elegance personified. Ten times more graceful than the sleekest catwalk model, body alluring, designed for pleasure, the Phoenix Force rising within me, aroused itself by the genetic perfection of the Shi’ar concubine in front of me. The pleasures that Xavier enjoyed would be appropriated, made mine, sullied, remade for my pleasure. The thought of Xavier plunged daggers into my emotions. She should suffer. She should suffer in his place because he is not here to do so. She should suffer because he would have a psychic rapport with her, just as I had with the Dark Phoenix. He would not be able to hide. He would have to come to us.

Phoenix rose onto her knees, lifting Lilandra bodily, offering her to me. I looked upon her, saw the defiance in her eyes, smiled and spat heavily onto her cheek, smearing it across her face before I reached down, pulling her to my lips, kissing her wantonly, deeply, tongue spearing her mouth, feeling her laboured breath, her moans of resistance.

****

Flashback. The kissing was so... sweet. So... right. Mary Jane's mouth wide open, her tongue accepting mine, dancing with it, sucking on it. Her naked flesh pressed against mine. Her needs building slowly... so slowly... she let me know how aroused she was by pressing more of her body against mine. When I touched her where she liked it, or when my cock spurted onto a sensitive part of her, she rewarded me by crushing her breasts against my chest, rubbing them, the feeling of her nipples making me so hungry for her. Sometimes I kissed her for hours before she acquiesced to my demands to penetrate her, make her totally mine.

She had opened me up like no other woman had. Christ, I had even mentioned the Agenda, something known to Phoenix alone. Mary Jane was my secret, I kept her in a part of my mind that Phoenix had never found access to. What was it with these redheads? MJ and Phoenix. Physically similar – the latter remade occurring to my perverse needs, Mary Jane kept as I had found her... minus her virginity. Two women, two separate needs... both beautiful, both highly sexual creatures. I knew that the day would come when I would have to choose. MJ could tease like no other. She could kiss like no other. She used her body like no other. She was... perfect. I wanted her. I wanted to be inside of her. Phoenix's mocking words in my mind – ‘making love’. I touched her, caressed her back, stroked her shapely ass, moved around to her soft yielding thighs, stroking her sex, feeling her pussy drool for me. My own precum flowed freely – I jumpstarted her needs by smearing some on her clit... then ladled some more... fingered her... looked into her deep green eyes as two fingers stroked her deep...

She threw her head back, tried to contain her scream, bit her lower lip, moaned hard. Really hard. Not so much heavy breathing but panting. Curling my fingers inside of her, I found her special spot and rubbed deep. I loved her squeal, loved the way her hips rocked, how she ground herself on my hand.

“Don't... want... fingers... ohhhhh... yessssssss!”

I could tease too. I knew what Mary Jane needed, just as she did. But I knew her. I knew the inner contours of her pussy, I knew where to touch, where to thrill her, where to make her feel so good.

“What do you want Mary Jane?” I asked calmly, my super-hard, constantly spasming, precum spewing prick giving the lie to my apparent control.

She smiled. She laughed. She closed her eyes and moaned as she rode my hand.

“Give me your cock. Put it deep in me. Fuck me the way I like it.”

I could tease too. Hardness stroked against her yearning pussy. Feel the way she grinds down harder as my fingers leave her. Feel the way she makes begging sounds as my rampant cock presses against her sex. Divine. Absolutely divine. MJ the goddess.

****

At my mental command I could summon all the holographic tools I could desire. Phoenix Force fed me instinctual knowledge of the Shi’ar bitch's anatomy, where they like to be touched, where they get their kicks. Not so different to any other woman, with one or two interesting tweaks. Tits seemed a good place to start. Small, perfectly shaped, cups of flesh – upright, firm, topped in tiny button nipples. Also as sensitive to the Shi’ar as the clitoris itself. Tits like those deserved attention.

Black plastic flex materialised in my hand. Phoenix held her arms back as I moved closer, staring at the wonderful twin globes in front of me. I lifted my index finger, fed it with the Phoenix Force... watched it glow, watched psionic flames envelope it... then... one finger tip... on the nipple. Lilandra Nerami, mighty Empress of the Shi’ar threw her head back and screamed, body arching forwards, convulsing in pleasure-pain. The woman wasn't accustomed to the very power that defined her. Black material appeared in Phoenix's hand as per my mental command. She got the hint quickly, gagging the Empress. The finger traced an outline of the Phoenix emblem on her body, my digit completing the design even as she squealed into her gag. Her flesh reddened at my touch. My next touch set the design alight. Both myself and Phoenix backed away to watch the reaction – Lilandra's eyes full of pleasure-pain, begging for mercy as she writhed on the bed, hands clutching at the sheets, trying to wipe away the design, desperate to stop the flood of power into her body – the sensations eating away at her mind, eroding her sanity.

“I will play with you first. Then I will impregnate you Lilandra.” The bitch had to know what would become of her. “Know that I will impale you. Know that my cum will fertilise you, round your belly. I will sire your first-born.”

Her eyes screwed shut, screaming “NO” over and over into her gag. Rubbing my cock against her body, I felt the ooze flowing more freely now – arch-fucking-throbbing, balls tightening a little, clear fluid oozing from the tip. Lots of it. I smeared it on the black flex. Then reached down, wound the flex around her chest, watched the black bite deep into her titflesh. I wound it again. Again. Around her slut body, enjoying the sight of her tits being bound down, flex biting deeper, nipples standing more to attention, framed by twin strands of the flex. It hurt her. It hurt deep. But the smearing on the cord more than made up for the pain. Searing pleasure flooded her body, her breasts reacting deeply to the feel of my cock's issue, the remnants of the Phoenix power burning their way into her body.

“You like that don't you slut? You will realise your place in existence when I ejaculate inside of you. You will understand your place as the Empress of the slaves. We will return to the Shi’ar homeworld as your womb rounds itself around my child. The choicest Shi’ar stock will be impregnated just as you are. You will know fulfilment for the first time in your life Lilandra.”

She writhed harder. I pulled the flex tighter, enjoying her scream. Phoenix held her close from behind, kissing her neck, stroking her sides, her ass. I moved her hand to the bulge in my jumpsuit. She knew what I wanted. I rose up on my knees in pleasure as she rubbed my cock into full, magnificent erection.

Screams, squeals... but her hips were rocking, her eyes rolling in sexual nirvana. More holographic toys. Nipple clamps. Smeared in precum. One tightened into place on her nipple. I stared into her eyes as I tightened it further. Was that defeat in her eyes? I attached the other, tightened... let it bite down so, so deep.

Sharp intakes of breath. A nodding of her head. Pain subverted totally now by the feel of the Phoenix so near, the realisation that it didn't matter. She finally understood that genetically she was already mine. Ours. The pathetic squealing stopped, she rose up on the bed, she looked deeply into my eyes, spread her legs wide. I smiled, signalling at Phoenix to remove the gag.

“You have something to say my slave?”

“Please… I can’t take it any more…”

****

“I can’t take it any more… give me your cock. Put it deep inside me. Take me the way I like it.”

I squeezed my prick, groaning as the precum spat out of the tip, landing on her clit… moaned in pleasure as I rubbed the glans against it, rubbed deep… stroking the length of my hardness along her slit, making her squeal in pleasure. Her warmth, her wetness… the sight of Mary Jane arching her back, presenting her incredible tits to me, the way she looked into my eyes as she spread her legs wide.

I moved inside of her, just the head, feeling her grind her hips and fuck down, taking me deep inside of her as she flung her arms around my body and pulled herself closer, pulled me deeper.

She screwed her body around my cock, her tight snatch quivering around my length as she swivelled on me. Wetness increasing as she squeezed around me, a beautiful whimpering coming from her mouth as I thrust hard into her… hard and passionate, just the way that I knew that she enjoyed it. Two lovers deeply into their pleasure, excitement overwhelming them…

Making love could be a torture for Mary Jane and if it wasn’t for her, it was for me. It took great mental strength to stop myself leaking inside of her. I had to rein in my powers, stop myself from driving her totally out of her mind. I wanted her to be fully aware of my fucking her, I wanted her to appreciate the feel of a fully engorged, hard cock inside of her, stroking her where she liked to be stroked. I wanted her to have full mental cognisance of the pleasure I could give her. But holding back was tough for me, feeling those waves of precum build inside of me, denied release. I could pull out and splatter her body, or the sheets, but no. I was inside this incredible body. And she was mine, truly mine, body and soul.

“Yes… take me deeper…!”

I looked up at her – massive, perfectly shaped natural breasts bouncing joyously as she rode me, magnificent mane of red hair tossed back, plump pouting lips pursed in ecstasy. Her body an erotic blend of womanly curves, that reached deep inside of me… made me want to fuck her deeper… stroke her inside the way she loves it… the way she begs me to.

“Ohhhh yes… you know… you know it… just there… fuck… yes!”

Those endless curves screwing down hard on my cock – mental and physical torture as the pleasure rose exponentially inside of my body as I tried to contain myself, tried to stop myself from spurting mind-bending precum deep into her soaking, yielding pussy.

I felt drops escape from the tip, smiling to myself, feeling her fuck me harder, high-pitched moans like a chipmunk escaping her mouth with each thrust. I moved my hands around her body and helped myself to handfuls of her ass, pushing myself to the limit, bottoming out in her eager cunt. Unable to control myself, I could feel my tip dribble inside of her – knowing that it was driving her mad, driving her crazy.

Her fucking stopped suddenly, the precum’s torture of her cunt taking up all of her thoughts, allowing me to part her cheeks, and begin to rub her asshole. Only ever taken once, when MJ abetted in my scheme to enslave the Black Cat. Still so tight, so unyielding. I remembered the hotness, the roughness, the sheer resistance of her unspoiled ass. So good…

Panting heavily, she managed to open her eyes, looking at me heavily.

“You’ve gotta get this thing out of me Tiger… do whatever you want… but I’m… losing… my mind… I can’t take it any more!”

I smiled.

“Whatever I want?”

****

“Phoenix… I think I have something that she wants.”

My consort smiled as she moved behind me, hands tugging at my costume. Lilandra looked so hot – so wild, stinking of sex, body smeared in my consort’s issue, her eyes driven with a sexual imperative, yet tinged with a tangible, very attractive fear. Eyes locked on my crotch. Instinctive Lilandra fighting conscious Lilandra. The genetic whore battling the mighty Empress desperate not to be impregnated by her mortal enemy.

She adjusted position, leaning on all fours on the edge of the bed as my redheaded fuck-queen made me naked. Cock springing to instant attention. The horror in Lilandra’s eyes a joy to behold… filling me with power, filling me with an even greater need to take her, to make Xavier’s lover my slave. Her eyes glistened in need, even as she shivered with fear, staring at my dribbling length.

“By the heavens… please… no…”

“You want it though Lilandra,” I smiled. “Your body screams for it. And you know that your genetic coding will flood your mind with the ultimate in fulfilment as the seed of the Phoenix floods you… impregnates you…”

She visibly quaked, bit her lower lip, eyes screwed up, head in her hands as she tried to fight me.

“Reach out my pet,” Phoenix urged in a deeply sensuous, beckoning tone. “Take it in your hand. Just touch it. Just feel its soft hardness.”

“No…”

“I admire your mental willpower, slut. Every fibre of your slave-body urges you to pleasure me, doesn’t it? Reach out… touch…”

She looked up from her hands, peering with courage at the erect, angry red cock in front of her. Tentatively one hand snaked forward, shivering… I relaxed, allowing a long thick stream of clear precum to escape from the tip, drooling down along the length. Her small hand grasped my meat, and I sighed, moving one step close to the bed, giving her better purchase.

“Now rub it slave.”

She rubbed. Deeply. Jerking my prick, closing her eyes in shame as she gave in to her genetic needs. Her body’s shivering became a sudden, sharp surge of ecstasy as I let go, allowing the Phoenix Force to flood my genitals, electrifying her, rewarding her for her obedience. Her eyes snapped open, locked onto my crotch. I could see purpose in those eyes – a singleminded objective. The giving of pleasure. To her Master.

Lilandra looked up at me as her other hand moved forwards, stroking my balls, kneading them softly.

“Very good slut… but your next acquiescence will be your mouth.”

Phoenix sidled around behind our prey, resting her breasts on her back, arms snaking around to cup Lilandra’s attractive little titties. At a nod from me, power coursed through those hands – the Empress surging again, so sensitive… on fire… blazing lusts coursing through her body… eyes locked on my cock… her mouth watering…

“In your mouth slave. I will not ask again.”

I saw her drool escaping her mouth as she moved her head closer, Lilandra’s rush of saliva in preparation for her first intrusion the mark of her genetics taking control. Her head moved closer… closer… I wiped my spitting cock on her cheek, over her lips…

Another nod at Phoenix… another blast of the raw erotic power, deep into her sensitive breasts. She sucked my length into her mouth, tongue swirling around the tip… I could not hold myself – I felt the explosion of precum as she suckled on me and I roared in pleasure, jamming my cock deep into her mouth, feeling her moans of protest… another nod… more power into those tortured tits. I focused hard, pushing the Phoenix Force through my cock, siphoning its strength to match the tenacity of her sucking, the skill of her tongue.

She was good, Lilandra was a skilled cocksucker… and this wasn’t genetics… Xavier’s whore had been trained to pleasure a man.

I pulled my cock from her mouth, yanking her head back and spitting hard on her face, her mouth drooling precum and saliva. I reached down, rubbing the heady mixture over her features, forcing my fingers into her mouth, enjoying the sticky mess that was the Empress’s face. Deprived of stimulation, sanity began to return to her and I smiled as a lone tear fell from her left eye.

****

She rested on her elbows as she stuck her ass into her air, on her knees. Once again the position made the most of Mary Jane’s incredible curves. Her taut legs, her spectacular ass, her hour-glass figure. She tossed her glorious mane of red hair over one shoulder as she turned and smiled at me.

I rested my hands on each of her cheeks, rubbing them softly, spreading them wide, my thumbs digging into the crevice of her ass, seeking the puckered treasure.

“Mmmmm last time my pussy boiled when you fucked me there,” she cooed. “Drove me fucking crazy… you gave me an itch deep in my ass Tiger… an itch you can drown with your hot cum baby.”

Unconsciously I found myself growling as I felt the cum build in my balls, MJ’s dirty talk, coupled with her incredible body driving me onwards, spreading her wider, cock like an iron girder, spitting juices as I smeared myself against her tiny starfish, moaning in need as I felt her spread herself wider, adjusting her position on her knees, feeling her breathing more heavily as she tried to relax her ass. I pushed, watching her watching me, her eyes glued to the sight of my prick as it pushed against her asshole. I saw her biting hard on her lower lip, knowing that the pain she would feel was being numbed and turned to pleasure by my juices as I pushed at her… pushed… deep now between the sphincter, into the ring of muscle.

A deep “Yesssssssss” escaped my lips as I felt success – and a yelp from MJ – as my cockhead moved through the barrier of her sphincter, ‘popping’ inside of her. The tightness, the heat… her sheer fucking nastiness as she pushed down on me, so needful of the sensations. I let go a little, making her scream with pleasure as my precum painted her inside, lubed her so good, made her ready for the pounding I was going to give her.

But at the same time, confusion. Was I treating her like all the others? Wasn’t she in any way… special? I leaned over her and pushed deeper inside, my hand snaking around to rub her soaking cunt, her pronounced clit, feeling her hips gyrate as I did so, my cock now deeply enmeshed in her. Fuck this was good, so fucking good… she squeezed down hard on me and that made fuck her faster. Harder. Deeper.

****

The once mighty Empress now sobbed on the bed in front of me, the reality of the situation now dawning on her. Perhaps for her own sake I should have continued the pleasuring, moved closer to the penetration that was her genetic destiny. But a distraction of my own had arose – a mental flash from the Hellfire Club courtesy of the White Queen. Xavier had surrendered. Somehow Lilandra had known it too. A mental link, a rapport – between them? It would make sense, he would know I would have no access to her mind. The mental image from Emma made it clear. Xavier in his wheelchair, waiting for an answer, being driven out of his mind with worry. He’d upped the stakes and found himself out of his league. He simply had no idea that this Empress was a liability to his plan rather than the coup de grace. Psionic restraints were placed upon him as I mentally discerned the link between him and the Shi’ar whore before me. Childs play to block the connection, to let him receive but not to send.

My Phoenix looked at me, wondered what the decision would be. Would I spare the Empress in exchange for Xavier’s surrender? I smiled back at her softly then stared down hungrily at the perfect soft musculature of Lilandra’s thighs… moved my body closer, between them. Xavier should stayed in hiding, this last desperate gambit was doomed to failure. Phoenix moved behind her, sitting down on the pillow, opening her own legs and resting Lilandra’s head on her lap, idly toying with her hair, stroking her cheek.

I moved into position. She stared at me as the tip of my cock stroked against her inner thighs, moved closer… closer… tip teasing the soft folds of her cunt… she spread wider, almost eagerly. I groaned softly as our eyes met.

“It’s… over… there’s nowhere… nowhere else to go,” she sighed softly, eyes brimming with tears. “I love him so much… but… now…”

“You need his cock,” whispered Phoenix quietly. “Your body screams for it. Screams to be taken and…”

“Impregnated,” I finished, smiling in pleasure.

“Yesssssssssss…” she cried out aloud as Phoenix joined me in my mind, wanting to share the sensation of Shi’ar cunt as I impaled her deeply. Her flesh was wet, yielding – and alive. It seemed to hum around the length of my cock, muscles seemed to move to milk it even as I fucked her. When I pushed in deep her body welcomed me, pleasured me, urged me to spray inside of her. When I pulled back on each thrust, she clamped down on me, wouldn’t let me go. The friction was intense, so deeply intense. I could feel the Phoenix power taking hold in my balls, energising my cum.

The way Lilandra looked at me, “More… more… do it… deeper…”

The way Phoenix taunted her, “Such a nasty little slut… you want it don’t you… need it… beg for it…”

****

MJ reared back, my prick stuffed deep in the vise of her ass, my arms moving around her to cup her tits, to slap them, to pull on her nipples, my mouth reaching her neck biting into the flesh around her lace collar. Sucking on her skin, the taste of her divine.

“Cum in my ass Tiger… please… fuck me… I’m begging you… drive… me… out… of my fucking… mind!”

My hips bucked as she begged, her sphincter clenching agonisingly around the shaft, making me groan loudly and deeply, sending shards of shivering, burning lust through my entire body. Mary Jane looked heavenly, she felt heavenly, she sounded heavenly, tasted heavenly… every sense was intoxicated by her, every fibre of my being needed to…

“Cum… please… burns so good… want it… need it…”

Couldn’t take any more, I pulled her hair back, stared into her beautiful green eyes and thrust powerfully into her, letting go, cumming, spurting, shooting deep into her ass. Eye contact never wavered, but I could see the look on her face of absolute orgasmic rapture, complete neediness, total wantonness. I could feel the warmth flooding her body, sating her, the look now changing… reminding me of the crack whore that’s just had her fix.

Was she mine because she loved me, or because I gave her the fix she craved? Did it really matter? It shouldn’t matter. After all, she was mine.

But it did matter. Mary Jane was my escape from the Agenda, the woman I could go to and be myself, the woman I wanted to be with. And no-one would hurt her again. Not Phoenix, not anyone. I’d protect her, keep her from harm, and when all of this was over, we could be together. Well, there’s nothing wrong with dreaming, is there?

****

Lilandra spread wider, wrapped the silk or her thighs and her calves around my body, it let me move a fraction on an inch deeper into her, but the rapture was exponentially increased. Hers. And mine. I groaned out loud. This wasn’t fucking like anything I’d ever experienced before. I’d quickly realised now that thrusting into her wasn’t what this was about. The Shi’ar female was built so differently inside… she moulded herself, adapted, found where to excite and centred on it, then would move on, seeking a new point of pleasure – both for her and for me. The sensation in my balls was literally electrifying – tingling… another new pleasure, the Phoenix force diverting the tiniest proportion of its power into my sperm, responding to the feel of Shi’ar flesh against my body, to the feel of Shi’ar pleasuring surrounding my cock.

Lilandra looked at me, eyes burning with desire, but I could feel that it wasn’t her. It was the genetic whore inside, the brood mare awaiting her prize, the genetic code of the Phoenix concubine rewarding us both for what was about to happen. This was bigger than anything I’d done before, the power I felt over her was more intense than anything. Right now I wanted to be on the Shi’ar homeworld. I wanted this 24 hours a day, a new Shi’ar pleasure slave in my bed as soon as the union with her predecessor was complete.

Tipping over the edge, usually a single moment now took half an hour, we both knew it was coming, the throbbing and pleasuring of her cunt building, inviting me, urging me now to complete the union. I came now, her cunt milking it from me drop by drop. No sudden shot of liquid orgasmic joy. Each drop a mini-orgasm in its own right, each bead of cum infused with the power of the Phoenix.

Even as she passed out, her conscious mind unable to take any more, her body continued its service to me.

****

I woke with the feel of her breasts against my chest, the smell of her hair and her body, her arms around me. Dipping into her mind, I could sense that Mary Jane felt warm, safe, secure and… in love. Delving deeper into her mind, I found the compartmentalised conditioning – the brutality of myself and the Phoenix and I took it away from her forever. I left the bed thinking to myself that she deserves better than this.

****

Later, Phoenix and I talked about Lilandra’s submission, the feel of the impregnation. Her body wasn’t quite so resistant to our probes as her mind, and there was not even any sub-molecular evidence that she was even fertile, let alone with child. But the event had been immensely rewarding, not just on the physical level. The White Queen shared with us the mental state of the now imprisoned Charles Xavier, his anguish, pain and terror at each passing moment, but something else too that I had no expected… some element of… enjoyment, I guess. But most satisfying of all was his feeling of impotence; the assault on his manliness as someone else had given his love the sex that she had been waiting for all of her adult life.

(XLVI) XAVIER: UNMASKED

Professor Charles Xavier was exactly as I imagined him – an older man, totally bald, looking weak and feeble in his wheelchair, blanket covering his apparently useless legs. But more than that, he had the look of a man defeated. His dream was in tatters, his life torn apart, his love desecrated, violated and turned against him. And it was all his fault. Maybe he didn’t know the full extent yet, but he would soon. I would reveal everything. I would show him as he paid the most terrible price of all.

“He still has his innate nobility,” observed the Dark Phoenix, standing at my side. “But his spirit is broken. His world is dying isn’t it my love?”

We watched as he was wheeled from the transport and taken to the X-Men Danger Room, where his indoctrination into the Agenda would begin. Where the terrible truth about the whole affair would be revealed… and where the final – and only – solution to the apocalypse facing the world would become apparent. The most powerful mutant minds in the world were all now in my power, with the final part of the jigsaw just about to be put into place.

“We have the biggest mutant powerbase in the world. All other super-powered groups have been eliminated. The whole world – not to mention the Shi’ar Empire – is now in your power,” Phoenix observed with just an element of smugness. “And now… finally… Xavier. What are you going to do?”

I turned to face her, putting both hands on her soft bare shoulders, my Phoenix having changed into a deeply arousing black corset, leather microskirt, black stockings, thigh-high boots and elbow-length black silk gloves. I smiled at her softly, evoking a similar smile back at me.

“Charles Xavier is the reason I’m here. Everything else is an irrelevance until he is dealt with and brought… on side.”

I put my index finger on her red-painted, pouting lips as she began to pose another question, and smiled again. I ushered her to the Danger Room observational booth and I turned back to the transport. Emma Frost, the White Queen stepped off first and came to me, head bowing slightly. I cast my eye over her body, lifted her face and stared into her icy blue eyes. Betsy Braddock, the beautiful oriental Psylocke joined her, looking at me with her deepest look of self-assurance and sexual confidence. Both had played only a small part overall in the Agenda, and yet they had been the first. Along with… Jean Grey. Not the same Jean Grey of course, whom I had perverted into the guise of the Dark Phoenix. No, this one was the clone, Madelyne Prior, infused with the essence of the original Jean – as good a copy of a lost woman as you’ll find. Three women, with more to follow no doubt. Ironic and not uncoincidental that they would be his first three too. It seemed so long ago since I had brought Emma, Betsy and Jean into my power.

The confrontation was inevitable, the first time we had met eye to eye. I walked into the Danger Room, its holographic projectors turned off, bare metal walls… with Xavier placed in the centre of the room, seemingly resigned to his fate. Tapping into the Phoenix energy, a quick scan of Xavier’s mind revealed the truth to me. No games, no decoys – it truly was him. And the deep level psionic scans confirmed my suspicions.

“Professor Charles Xavier,” I began, attracting the attention of the so-called most powerful mutant mind on the planet. “So nice to make your acquaintance.”

He turned to face me, a look of defeat defining his outlook, but a barely confined hatred in his eyes. I was to be cautious – that emotion gave him power, it could rise him from the depths of defeat.

“So you’ve won then. Every major super-powered group on the planet dispersed, wide-scale anarchy on the streets of every major Western city. Mutants now living in fear of human reprisals. And some of the most noble and proud people I’ve ever worked with either dead or… or… reduced to the level of…” he faltered.

“Slaves Xavier?” I suggested. “Sluts? Whores? As you’ll soon discover, their fates were inevitable – I just got there first. But before we continue perhaps we can end the sham you are playing now. I know full well that you have no need of that wheelchair, that you are more powerful than ever before. Just before my Agenda began I know that you were abducted and experimented upon by Mr Sinister. Using the Phoenix powers available to me I see that he was able to graft the Summers genome into your biological make-up… the last great experiment before his demise.”

Xavier just stared, a little open-mouthed. I had known all along what the chain of events would be. A new Charles Xavier, orders of magnitude more powerful than before – and probably the greatest danger the world would ever see.

“The energy-based mutant powers of the Summers family, combined with the most powerful mind on the planet. Sinister must have been so proud of his creation. I would imagine it began with you being able to walk again – this was always psychosomatic, wasn’t it Xavier? But it’s just the beginning. The beginning of a transformation that will spell the end of mutantkind, beginning of the end for the X-Men – for any one that could challenge you. Locked within my mind is information on how things would have panned out, a potential future for the X-Men. Starting with their sexual destruction at your hands. Allow me to demonstrate.”

The room darkened, the Shi’ar holographic technology kicking in, powered by a bank of memories deep within my mind – memories that only now I could access fully. Everything began to gel, to move into focus – the subconscious moving into the conscious mind. The room taking shape, one of the many bedrooms in the very mansion we were in now, all oak-panelling and massive windows – warm summer sun shining through. Standing, admiring the view over Westchester, Emma Frost the White Queen. Xavier stood, the wheelchair fading from view. Whilst the room may have been holographic fakery, the two people here were very much real – animated by the power of my mind, re-enacting a set of memories that had yet to take place. Memories my Agenda would make sure would never take place.

I realised now that the memories inside my head came from Xavier himself – but a different Xavier, the Xavier that could have been. I could feel him, feel the power growing inside of him, feel his eyes roving over the revealing costume of the White Queen. His eyes, staring at the swell of her breasts through her white corset, her long statuesque legs, the mane of light blonde hair. Dark stabs of lust animated him. Dark and seductive – the memories meshed easily with Xavier’s mind. He couldn’t resist the power, couldn’t resist his own urges.

Emma turned and smiled as Charles walked into the room, she caught his appreciative glances with the practiced ease of a woman aware of her sexual allure. She was arranging her horse-riding clothes and equipment, but let them be as Xavier entered the room. Predestination. She knew what was going to happen.

“So nice to see you…” she gestured at his legs. “Up and about again.”

“I came to thank you for the part you played in the rescue Emma. Were it not for our combined psychic prowess, Sinister would have prevailed. We make a good team, I think.” He smiled directly at her, moving closer, never losing the eye contact. “And I know what you want.”

She arched her eyebrow in surprise, yet smiled as he took her hand and placed it against his temple. The White Queen opened her mouth in surprise, the feel of the raw psychic power moving from his mind into her hand.

“Power, Emma. The currency that you have always admired. The sheer raw ability to make your will prevail.” He smiled, gazing at her, enjoying her surprise, the way he touched upon a special part of her deep inside. So easy to find the words that would seduce her, to touch the centres of emotion inside of her that would make her yield. The woman was a slut, as he had suspected, aroused by the concept of power, excited by the thought of sharing it, eager to surrender her body for the pursuit of it.

He moved closer still, her eyes rapt on his, his hands moving to the corset, index finger slipping between the lacing to stroke her bare breast. He smiled at her sharp intake of breath, then pulled on the laces, unfastening the corset, allowing his hands to move inside and stroke her breast, find the nipple – roll it, pull it. Her eyes still locked on his, his smile growing as she began to fall under the spell of his confidence, the mighty White Queen allowing herself to be groped and pawed like a common whore. Everything was now inevitable – the surrender of her body, and then… her heart and mind. Xavier began to feel the heat of his erection as his hands glided over Emma’s breasts, his eyes focusing on her lips (oh how she would pleasure him with those lips!) then down to her tits. Large, ample, proud – pillows of ecstasy that would pleasure him crushed down around his cock.

“It’s all yours Charles,” she whispered hotly, stroking his cheek with the back of her palm. “Side by side there is nothing we cannot achieve and here… in my bed… there is no pleasure that will be denied to you.”

She leaned forward, kissing him on the lips… a soft kiss, yet malleable. The slightest move towards her from Xavier made her open her mouth and emit a soft moan… he lanced her mouth with his tongue, claiming it… tongue pumping in and out, stroking against her lips. She licked and sucked at it, the motions putting one thought into her mind and one only. The head of his cock brushing against the open ‘O’ of her lips. She was ready – ready to surrender, ready to offer the nastiest womanly duties to receive her share of his power. As they kissed she could sense the untapped potential of his unleashed mutant mind, like the hum of a powerful generator. He could feel it arousing her, knew that she was already wet, already waiting. Her mouth had been claimed, her tits. Drunk with power, he wanted it all. But even then he knew that Emma Frost alone would not satisfy his appetite.

“Impressive Ms Frost,” murmured Xavier, breaking the kiss and softly pushing her away. “You’ve felt what I will bring to this union. Now it’s your turn to demonstrate your… contribution. Make yourself naked for me, Emma. Display what you offer to me.”

He knew she felt borderline insulted, knew that this was a challenge to her allure as a woman. But he had peered inside her mind, knew how hungry she was. Not just for the power Xavier possessed, but also for a man to take care of her specialised needs. He smiled as she tossed back her hair defiantly, but then gave in. Slowly, she turned to him, thrust her chest forward and began to slowly finish unlacing the corset.

“You enjoy large breasts, don’t you Charles?” Direct eye-to-eye contact, right until the moment she opened the corset wide, allowing her ample charms to be fully revealed, smiling as his gaze moved down. “Sebastian Shaw certainly loved them, came hard in his pants simply from licking and mauling on them. Large, soft, but firm… yielding only to the firmest touch. I need a firm touch Charles.”

She pulled back her cloak, let it drop to the floor, leaving her dressed in the shortest of white skirts, matching stockings visible beneath. Charles could feel the lust thrusting its way through his body, building in his belly, building up his heart beat, stiffening his erection. He glanced over her perfectly sculptured body, her perfect neck and shoulders, watched as her cupped her breasts together and thrust them forward, offering them. Then the skirt was removed and kicked contemptuously away. White, translucent lingerie, the merest suggestion of the blonde tuft of her pubic hair. Subconsciously he found himself taking a step forward.

“So close, Professor. So close to taking me. Fucking me. Just the most basic suggestion of fabric separates my cunt from you,” she smiled as she said the word ‘cunt’, “And my long legs wrapped hard around your hips, urging you deeper inside. Under the refinement and sophistication, I’m a dirty girl Charles. I need to be ridden hard. You won’t let me down, will you?”

Xavier growled, eyes locked on the junction of her legs. Frustration turning into a deeper desire as she turned slowly, index fingers gliding under the elastic, Emma Frost taking her panties away giving Charles a full, unobstructed view of her perfectly proportioned, ripe behind.

“You like what you see don’t you? What if you were the first, the first to put it in there. It’ll be painful Charles. You know that, don’t you? I…” she faltered for the first time. “I want you to hurt me.”

She shifted onto the four poster bed, presenting those perfect cheeks to his view, hands coming around to spread them wide, revealing the tiny, untouched rosebud. Untouched in this reality of course, Emma’s ass being one of my initial conquests. But in this bank of Xavier memories somehow implanted in my mind, she was virgin, the look on her face as she glanced back over her shoulder, arousing beyond all belief. She got on all fours, awaiting her fate. The mask on Xavier’s face told the whole story – lust, sadism, desire, corruption. He reached over to Emma’s discarded riding gear, lifting the crop she used to spur on her steed – now it would be used on its owner. He raised it high, then brought it down hard – Emma screaming as the bite of the riding crop lashed at her perfect ass.

A surge of fucklust coursed through Xavier’s body as he gave her the bite of the crop – again, then again and again, marking the cheeks of her proffered ass, deep red markings rising on those perfect globes. He felt the surge each time through his cock, finally dropping the crop, kneeling on the bed, pulling her by her spectacular mane of blonde hair, forcing her lips to the angry red tip of his manhood.

“Now look at me Emma. Look into my eyes as you put it into your mouth. Submit to your Master and draw power from him. That’s what you want isn’t it slut?” The refined, clipped tones of Charles Xavier took on a sadistic edge as he spoke down to the humiliated White Queen. She had been expecting some good sex to clinch a deal. Instead sensations flowed through her body which she’d never experienced before – and which she could not back away from. Shame. Humiliation.

“Let go, slut,” Xavier urged. “Accept it into your mouth, accept that you’re mine now.”

Emma’s body was alive. Her heart pounded with desire, her eyes locked onto the beet-red tip of Xavier’s diamond hard prick, with every heart beat she could feel another wave of wetness build in her cunt. She looked upon his cock with obvious hunger, clear need, her mouth physically watering as she moved closer… and closer…

Xavier delved deeply into her mind, back to the adolescent Emma, reliving with her the first time she had held a cock in her hands, flooded her memory with the sensations of excitement, fear and arousal as she clasped her palms around the stiff length. He smiled cruelly as he substituted himself in Emma’s memory, forcing her long dead innocence back into the mature woman’s mind – in an instant making her mentally virgin again. He dug deeper, reveling in the White Queen’s past, the arrival of her sexual tutor in her bedroom, the girl barely 14-years-old, one week after her first period. Her training was to begin now. No time to be lost. The young Emma Frost was an asset, the investment in her sexual prowess to be started immediately. She was to learn – to obey. Her sexual power would grow with her mutant abilities in tandem. Xavier pushed deeper into her mind, feeling his cock stiffen and harden still further with each new revelation – both her parents were secretly telepaths, both of them feeding their sexual activities mentally into their daughter’s mind, subconsciously. He looked down and appreciated the look on the woman’s face – the same look her sexual tutor must have enjoyed. Virgin innocence combined with the hunger of a needy woman. She was excited and terrified, and he could feel it. A bead of pure precum formed on the tip of his prick as his cock shuddered in anticipation.

She panted heavily as she grasped at the engorged prick, moved closer, closed her eyes, then leaned down, stroking the angry tip against her soft cheek, feeling the precum smear on her soft skin. He struggled for self-control, reaching deep within himself to hold back. He had never exercised his mutant powers like this – never even considered it, the abuse of his power intoxicated him, the throbbing in his prick building so quickly. He looked down at her face, trying to block out the images of those beautiful features coated in his sperm, dripping from her nose, lips and chin. He called upon all his powers of restraint as he felt her cool breath on the tip. Emma’s memories played out in her mind.

“Oral pleasure is a key part of foreplay Emma… to build a man’s excitement or simulate the act of sex in its entirety. The use of your tongue is key young lady. Licking and sucking make this act distinct from other ways of fucking.”

She lapped gently at the tip, instinctively laving her tongue on the underside of his cock, knowing she had scored a ‘hit’ as she felt his body stiffen and a moan of pleasure escape his lips. She wrapped both of her hands around the shaft, copying the way she’d seen her brother masturbate, rubbing it deeply, rubbing it hard just as he had. Licking and sucking. That’s what he’d said. She brought her lips around the tip then sucked as hard as she could, feeling the man cry out in pleasure, experiencing a lancing thrill through her body, welling deep in her cunt, swirling her tongue around the tip, rubbing harder on the shaft. Deeper. The lusts of the mother had been transferred to the daughter and Emma had reveled in them, her body shaking with the untamed desire of an innocent, her mouth animated by the subconscious teachings of her mother.

Xavier now felt totally in control, his mental power keeping his physical responses in check, letting the memories cascade into her mind, regulating them, insinuating himself into both her sexual past and sexual present, bonding her to him in a way that nothing would be able to break.

“Eye contact Emma. Look up into the eyes of the man you are pleasuring. You’re on your knees in front of him, you’re sucking his cock, you’re a whore. His whore. And you love it. You want more. Tell him. Tell him with your eyes.”

Xavier smiled as she looked up at him, lips pursed around his glans, the tongue still swirling around and around, her eyes animated with hunger and lust. His control slackened a little, a rush of precum escaping, the words of the sexual tutor coming through again.

“It’s an illusion Emma, of the man being in control. It’s an act. You’re the one who really has the power. He’ll do anything to feel this way again. Anything. And each time he wants it, you’ll increase the cost. The first step in making him yours.”

Charles Xavier blotted the memory from Emma’s mind as she dutifully continued sucking, licking, leaning in deeper to take more of the cock into her mouth. This time she would be taught differently.

“That’s right Emma. You’re a slut. And good slut girls take it deeper. And suck harder. Remember that I’m in control now. Your mouth is my property slut. And I want it deeper, so much deeper.”

Xavier found the urge to cum burn through his stomach, down into his loins. Looking down at Emma he watched her alternate between looking into his eyes, then back down to her task, taking him deeper, her shaking now visible as her needs grew so much her innocence could not contain them. Xavier felt savage lusts build inside of him as his cum began to gather pace. She looked up at him again, his hands now on either side of her head. He laughed deeply as he felt her struggle, his hands forcing her head down onto his raging cockmeat.

“Deeper slut. All the way into your throat. Try to swallow me. Take me. Take me deeper whore. Do it. Surrender to your new Master!”

He felt the thrill of power as he forced deeper into her, her gag reflex crushing her throat muscles down on his cock as he pushed the deepest yet, screaming “Yes!” as she screamed around his meat, her throat desperately trying to swallow it, but just taking him deeper. The orgasm built inside of him, fuelled by the cries, the retching feeling of her muscles stroking the tip of his prick, crammed so deep into her throat. The urge to let loose, to hose into her windpipe excited him, made his body throb and pulse with dark, evil desires. But it wouldn’t be enough for him, wouldn’t demonstrate his newly acquired power…

He pulled out hard, her grasping gag reflex pulling him over the edge, grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled it back hard, his eyes alive with triumph as he felt the unstoppable rush in his cock, smeared the underside of the hyper-sensitive tip against her lips… then came… shot hard… thick splatterings of his cum blasting onto her cheek, onto her nose. With a shock Emma was brought back into the present, coughing madly, her face still being streaked with cum as Xavier couldn’t stop the eruption. White lines along both cheeks, down from her temples, along the sides of her nose. He grinned cruelly as he pushed her back onto the bed , enjoying the sound of her weeping, her wheezing as her throat tried to recover from its violation.

Something had awoken deep inside of him. A sensation almost identical to what I felt on that point of release. A madness. A feeling of total power and abandonment. What I achieved with the chemical properties of my fluids, Xavier achieved through mind-fucking his victims – he could make them want it, could equal their pain and humiliation with sexual pleasures he fucked into their minds. The latent power of the Summers DNA combined with his own had created a monster. Charles Xavier with his mind unhinged, pursuing his own Submission Agenda, fuelled totally by genetic madness. I know what I’m talking about – I can feel the madness myself at the point of every orgasm, feel the power threatening to overwhelm me. My own mutant abilities, the power of the Phoenix Force, the magical powers of the Scarlet Witch, the Band of Tyr, even the unearthly alien might of the shapeshifting symbiote. All of them threatened to take me closer to the edge, until I found the mental discipline. This new Xavier had no such restraints.

Kneeling on the bed over the weeping form of the White Queen, he leaned down, smearing the sperm across her face, gathering the smooth cream on his fingers, then moving them to her lips, forcing them inside. She would not be denied his taste, and once again he pushed his mind into hers, flushing her with a shameful thrill at the taste, sending a rush deep into her cunt. Staring down at his cock, his manic needs were still not yet sated – nowhere near. The body of the White Queen inspired more dark desires inside of him.

“Your ass, Emma. I burn for your ass. You offered it to me, and now I want it. On my terms.”

She shook in terror as her non-resisting body was flipped over and Xavier stared down hungrily at the expanse of perfect curves – the flare of her hips, the rise of her behind. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. She quivered in terror as he spread her cheeks apart, grinning at her tiny puckered rosebud. Opening his mouth, a long string of drool escaped it, and he watched intently as it softly hit her asshole, then seeped inside. Then he spat again, moving his finger to rub it in as she trembled in terror beneath him. He kept on drooling into the hole until the saliva bubbled up on her anus. Then he spread her wider and watched it subside. He drooled more.

Both of them were anal virgins, the difference being that while Emma now dreaded this intrusion, Xavier was eager, spurred on by base desire. His cocktip was crimson red in anticipation and as an observer I too could feel his anticipation. My own remembrances of Emma’s ass were so sweet. Hunching onto his knees, he pressed the tip of his cock against her impossibly small backdoor. Spanking her ass, he began to push. To push slowly, spreading her wider, feeling her anus pucker tightly, denying him entry.

“You know I could reach into your mind and relax your ass Emma. You know that, don’t you? But I like it this way – the feeling on my cock is exquisite. Your body is exquisite. You will serve me so well Emma. The first slave in the New Order,” he moaned deeply as finally her ass surrendered to the pressure, the inch of his tip violating her. “So good. That’s it Emma. Fight me. You have no idea of the pleasures I experience when you clench like that. I can feel you tear inside Emma. I know you can feel the pain. I’m making you enjoy it Emma.”

He pushed deeper and she screamed, but the scream was of intense pleasure of an equal measure to the pain. She felt so full, but needed so much to get it out. She strained against the cock in her ass, but the feel of the muscles trying to expel the intruder merely served to pleasure her rapist even more. Xavier cried out in ecstasy – a greater pleasure than he’d ever felt before, a savage lust that far exceeded the elegant lovemaking he had enjoyed with Lilandra. He fucked down hard into her ass, his second orgasm so much harder to find than the first. But he knew that the pleasure would be even more intense, far more powerful.

“You wanted power Emma. Now you will feel total power, I will enslave you to it, the first in an army of slaves!” he ranted wildly as shockingly powerful pleasure ripped through his body. “The X-Men females will sire a new race of super-beings! I will impregnate you all… again and again and again… and…”

Xavier could hold on no longer – orgasm blasted through his body, wave after wave of cream was humped deep into the White Queen’s ass, his mind expanding, the pleasure exploding from his mind, Emma feeling the full force almost as much as he, both of them passing out, their feeble minds unable to contain and process the pleasures they had unleashed. But this was only the beginning. His mind would adapt, would learn. Already a monster, Xavier would become a God. This is what the Agenda was partly about. A choice of evils – Charles Xavier, or… me.

****

Xavier sat in his study, contemplating the Westchester night sky through the French windows. Leaning back into the reassuring feel of the old leather armchair, he congratulated himself mentally on a cold and clinical assessment of his achievements. The control he had so eagerly sought was now his. He could ride the tides of the mind-bending pleasures he could unleash, he was growing, becoming more powerful, more confident. But all the time he sought the missing piece of the jigsaw. Jean Grey.

Sinisiter’s genetic programming had served him well, even if the X-Men had defeated him, killed him in psionic battle. Professor Charles Xavier was now intent on a single-minded search for Scott Summer’s wife. The DNA that had been combined with his own screamed out for Cyclops’ soulmate, just as I had felt the similar need for the beautiful redhead to be brought to heel. But whereas I needed the Dark Phoenix, Xavier wanted something else. The ultimate brood mare. His dreams were fixated on Jean’s cunt, every orgasm he pumped into the increasingly mind-fucked White Queen was intended for Jean. Jean Grey, writhing in ecstasy fuelled by his hard cock, Jean’s cunt muscles massaging his cum deeper into her body, Jean’s belly growing and rounding, Jean’s breasts becoming heavy with milk. Jean giving birth to the first specimens of the new super-race that he, Charles Xavier, would father. He saw twins.

The search for Jean was the priority. All the X-Men were on the hunt. They would bring her to him. In time. Cyclops would be eliminated. The old Summers bloodline was now defunct.

With Emma Frost now nothing more than a barely sentient fucktoy, Charles moved his sights to fresh meat. The one remaining member of the X-Men in the mansion. Elizabeth ‘Betsy’ Braddock. Psylocke. Breathtakingly beautiful, sexually adept, trained with the knowledge passed down through generations of Chinese concubines. A recovering sex slave following mind control by the Mandarin and a powerful mutant in her own right. She would pose an interesting diversion, take the edge off his sexual hunger whilst Jean was delivered to him. And after Jean’s impregnation, perhaps Betsy could be next – she would provide fine daughters, good stock for further breeding.

“Come out of the shadows, Psylocke,” Xavier muttered smugly. “I know you’ve been watching me. Drawn by the aura no doubt.”

From the corner of the study, Betsy stepped into view, Xavier turning and smiling, noticing that the beautiful Asian had come dressed just in her thin, Chinese silk robe.

“The… er… ‘aura’ has been overpowering Professor. Psycho-sexual impulses designed for my benefit. My dreams the last few days have been the best ever. I should thank you. I never expected to experience literally wet dreams on the scale you have given me.”

“A mere taster of our forthcoming union,” Xavier smiled, appreciating Psylocke’s perfect legs beneath the short robe, staring up at the swell of her breasts. The former pleasure slave would revert to type. “You interest me Betsy. The sexual training of the Mandarin, not to mention your physical charms, should not be wasted. I have stared into your mind Psylocke. I know that you ache for a new Master.”

Betsy caught her breath as Xavier effortlessly began to undo the years of therapy they had undertaken together since her rescue from the Orient. Yes, he could see it in her mind. This is what she truly ached for. This is what she was built for – to be a concubine, her whole life primed to the pleasure of her Master. A mind warped and twisted into the pursuit of ecstasy no matter what the cost. He imagined Betsy by his side when Jean was brought before him. They’d do her together.

Like a moth drawn to the flame, Psylocke padded softly on the carpet towards her destiny. She stood gracefully in front of him, head dipped respectfully, allowing Xavier’s hungry eyes to appreciate the curved contours of her body beneath the sheer robe, the hint of tit she exposed, the impression of her nipples against the silk. Looking down he smiled appreciatively at the perfect musculature of her sculpted thighs and calves, right down to her elegant feet.

“Display yourself,” he commanded, watching the perfectly manicured fingers move to the robe, untying the band, arching her back gracefully, shrugging her shoulders back and letting the robe slide back effortlessly over her arms. Xavier inhaled deeply, feeling the powerful stabbing of his fuck lust course through his body as he inspected his prize. Getting up from the chair, he stroked Betsy on the cheek, feeling her face dip to stroke itself on his palm, her eyes locking onto his, watching them roam over her body.

Xavier took his time, those massive breasts occupying his peripheral vision as his eyes followed the contour of her shoulder, down her arms, then across, allowing his vision its prize – Betsy’s breasts. Large, inviting, firm, perfectly shaped, each one tipped with a tiny, pointed nipple. His mind raged with the possibilities. How he would feast upon these beauties. He’d sink his teeth in like taking a bite from a fresh, crunchy apple. He’d maul on those nipples until she screamed in rapture. He’d smack those tits hard and bury his cock between them, emerging from them only when his thick load was smeared against the yielding flesh, then he’d beat her face with his still-dribbling cock until she sucked him back into arousal. Then he fuck her – both hands roughly squeezing those yielding tits as he fucked her hard doggy-style. Her body could have been shaped by God himself – the definition on her midriff nothing short of perfect, the juncture of her thighs a hairless gateway to the pinnacle of sexual pleasures, a small ‘vee’ of purple pubic thatch crowning the glory of her body. A body designed for fucking, a body trained to desire, to pleasure, to service its master. And its new master was well-pleased with the display.

Picking up on just the movements of his eyes, Psylocke dropped to her knees, her hands stroking along his pants, to the buckle of his belt, Xavier noting the need in her eyes – so dark, but glinting with passion. He sensed her needs, detected her desire to be owned again, felt her soul rise as his belt gave way, her zipper pulled impatiently down, the hand reaching in. That cool hand, purposeful, the tingle of delight through her belly as she pulled out his prick. He sensed it all, the dark stabbing feeling in her soul that she was ‘lost property’, that she’d never be owned again – all swept away in a rising tide of fucklust.

“I learned the location of every nerve centre on the penis, learned through trial and error how the texture of my tongue best excites those centres,” she cooed softly, looking up into Xavier’s eyes, rubbing his cock softly, strumming her fingers along the length, like an expert flutist – each finger striking home perfectly, sending shards of desire pounding through his cock. “I’m fully versed in the optimum suction required to the deepest pleasures in various states of male arousal, my mouth automatically supplies the perfect amount of saliva required for your cock. The inside of my mouth will even take on the best possible shape for the resonances of my humming when I pleasure your balls Professor.”

But it was more than that. The silky softness of her low voice, the continuing maddening strumming of her fingers on this length. All of it combined like a dark melody in Xavier’s mind. I began to wonder to myself whether I had used and discarded Psylocke too quickly – blew her mind away and tossed her into the Hellfire Club as one of its most celebrated prostitutes. Perhaps I had been mistaken, perhaps the raptures I could have gleaned from her would have far exceeded my expectations had I entertained the thought of keeping her as my personal concubine. At that point I could only feel skepticism. Psylocke was brought to heel through domination, pain and humiliation. Yet here she was giving herself away. And perhaps that was the point. I was an enemy, I needed to conquer. Xavier was mentor, trusted friend and more.

“Carry out your duty Betsy,” the Professor stated simply, barely containing his passion for his new toy, feeling a surge of precum shoot through the length of his cock as Psylocke threw back her gorgeous mane of purple hair, stared down at the prick in her hands, leaned down, took the head in her mouth…

Instant rapture. The perfect friction at the most sensitive areas, incessant pleasuring, so wet, so warm… and when she sucked… he moaned deeply in need. The roughness of her tongue, off-set by the smooth feeling of her saliva circulating her mouth, then the suction. The sweet sucking – he cried out loud, then louder as the sensation of her moan around his prick took rapture to sexual perfection. He had already reached that point, the point where a man no longer cares about his partner, no longer cares about anything – just the need to orgasm, to fill her with cream, to push himself over the edge and to climax. Hard. In her face, in her mouth, in her cunt, in her ass, between her tits, he no longer cared. He just had to cum.

But he couldn’t. He stayed on the brink, Psylocke sweeping her head around, adjusting her technique, drool escaping her mouth and running down the length copiously as she effortlessly contained his orgasm. Xavier’s mind was a maelstrom of male urges, his loss of control near total – no longer could he look into Psylocke’s mind and mould and shape her, but he didn’t even care. He knew he had nothing to fear, for Betsy’s need to give herself, to resume the role of the concubine would now become the driving force of her life.

The cool air seemed to blast against his glans as Psylocke removed him from her mouth, those perfect lips stroking southwards, sucking each of his balls into her mouth. Freed from the constraints of her mouth, his shaft expanded, grew still further until it had swollen to its peak. Never before had it been so granite-hard, so engorged with desire – he opened his eyes, and stared down at the beautiful slut that serviced him. His hands grabbed onto the arms of the leather armchair as the perfect combination of suction and wetness overwhelmed him. And when she hummed he could feel it reverberate through his cock, through his balls, down towards his ass. And still he could not cum, could not reach the peak. Betsy would not let him, still having so many mind-bending pleasures to bestow upon her new master. His eyes screwed shut in absolute ecstasy.

He lost track of all time, until suddenly… she had stopped. The insane urge to ejaculate calmed. Eyes still shut, now he could smell her. Deep, musky – female need driving itself into his brain. The sight of fresh juice sliding down those perfect thighs as his eyes opened, her lips glistening, the juice bubbling slightly on her snatch.

“I need…” she stopped, looking for the phrase. “I need your imprint. Your mind, your body. I need to explore you, adapt to you, make myself perfect for you. I need to take the imprint of the Mandarin away, replaced by my true Master.”

The Xavier memories blurred, the holographic Danger Room metamorphosing around us, the scene shifting to Psylocke’s bedroom in the mansion, dark and candlelit. I marveled at the level of detail in these memories, somehow implanted into my mind, powering the real life participants in front of me. Xavier would be experiencing everything as it had happened in these memories – his own consciousness replaced with the new, malevolent Xavier of this memory implants. Emma, Betsy, merely animated like puppets. I could sense the apex of the Agenda coming… and still I was being driven mental commands from… I didn’t know where. But as the events unfolded, I knew that I would have my answers – perhaps sooner rather than later.

But for now, a ritual. A willing bonding of slave to master. Xavier was stretched out, totally naked on Psylocke’s bed, face down, as the sleek body of his new slave straddled his lower back, rubbed and kneaded his shoulders, expertly massaging him as he growled softly. His erection had not subsided at all and a hard discomfort that actually thrilled him rushed through his groin as it was crushed to the hard mattress of the bed.

“I need to explore you Professor, to feel every contour of your body against mine, at the same time manifesting my psychic energy. Mind and body gliding against yours, feeling your impression upon my skin, my psyche.”

Xavier moaned contentedly, Betsy’s almond-shaped eyes closing, concentration evident on her features, the butterfly visual effect of her psychic power emanating from her head – a shadow of its full manifestation but still there as she psionicallly traversed the Professor’s mindscape, altering her sexual responses to complement him, everything from the way he liked to be touched, to the sound of her moans as he fucked her. Psylocke thrilled to this submission, feeling stabs of darkness assault her consciousness as the new evil of Charles Xavier was absorbed into her soul. A cruel smile formed on her face, a new rush coursed through her body, a new wave of wetness oozed from her cunt, pooling on the small of Xavier’s back.

Her thighs tightened onto the sides of his body, she flicked her head and teased his back with the length of her gorgeous mane of purple hair. Her hands glided over his back, she leaned forwards and brushed the tips of her erect nipples over his back. And still the psionic butterfly manifestation, supplying the electricity behind every caress, every touch. Xavier moaned and surged beneath her, Betsy’s hands everywhere, stroking, scratching with her nails – exploring the body of the man who would become her Master.

The psionic energy almost seemed to crackle as Betsy shifted position, turning around to palm Xavier’s buttocks. Firm, muscular – it surprised her. After so many years in the wheelchair she had expected him to have wasted away. Not a bit of it. Again, she leaned forwards, stroking her beautifully engorged nipples against the taut skin. Stroking the cheeks apart, she felt him gasp deeply as she blew cool breath against his asshole. Her mind raced – another pulse of juice smearing upon his back – as she leaned down, wet tongue darting towards his ass. She smiled, feeling his body tense in pleasure as she dipped her wet tongue in, finding his asshole, swirling around and around. The butterfly manifestation grew brighter, the crackle of energy almost palpable now. Both of her hands on his asscheeks, spreading them, dipping her tongue in deeper, moaning into the tiny pucker. Dark images danced through her mind. Her finger deep inside, stroking deeper, finding that special spot that would drive him out of his mind, mouth sucking wildly on his cock. She knew every technique that could heighten his orgasm. She dreamed of penetrating his ass just as he struggled to contain his cum – she smiled at the thought and returned to lapping at his asshole, feeling the continuing pounding of his heart as it manfully maintained his capacity erection. Alternating between rimming his ass and dipping inside with the pointed hard tip of her tongue.

Xavier was in heaven, never having been pleasured in such a way before. I smiled, knowing that this was barely a taster of what the beautiful oriental was capable of.

“I need to turn you over Professor,” she whispered silkily, her mind alive and tingling with the knowledge of the imprinting so far. Again I could wonder at how my relationship with Psylocke would have progressed had I not been so hasty with her.

Now I could sense the intimacy that Betsy created as she straddled Xavier’s midriff, smearing her needy sex onto him, her hands moving eagerly over his chest, his shoulders. As she moved to his arms, she dipped down, teasing his face with her breasts, feeling the Professor reach out, trap a nipple between his teeth and suckle on it, Betsy arching her back, feeding more of her colossal breast into his mouth, her cunt grinding and rubbing on his stomach, hips swiveling. Again the butterfly power signature flared up. Their union would be forthcoming presently. It was inevitable. I smiled to myself, casting my mind back to my own experiences with Betsy. So wet, exemplary muscle control, as tight as her asshole should she so choose. No wonder she can become the most popular whore in the Hellfire Club during my tenure as its proprietor.

Xavier looked up at his exotic, breathtaking partner, spitting her tit out and staring up into her dark eyes with a deep, unrelenting sexual hunger. His cock visually throbbed, lancing deep lust through his body whenever the tip stroked against Psylocke’s ass or legs as she straddled him, stroked against him. She positively glowed as she looked down upon him, caressed his cheek with her hand, tossed her hair back.

“I need to fuck you now Professor, to give myself the feel of your cock, to mould my responses to you. I need to ride you. Bind myself to you totally. Be your whore forever. Your slut. Your lover. Your toy,” she stared into his eyes, as she shifted downwards. I smiled, imagining the inexperienced Xavier about to feel one of the most skilled cunts I’ve ever taken envelope his cock. “Let me surround you. Total pleasure. I know exactly where to stroke you… inside.”

Xavier maintained the eye contact, feeling the soft, soaking lips of her pussy stroke against his raging tip. He could feel the throbbing grow, each heart beat now forcing more desire through the shaft, precum now dripping copiously from the fiery red glans.

“Now… I am… yours!”

She slipped down, taking his hardened prick so deep into the warm depths of her grasping pussy, Xavier’s face contorted with pleasure at the feel of her pulsing snatch, waves of juice now oozing from her as she began to ride him softly. His hands reached up, grasped her titties, pulled her down and bit down hard into her nipple. Psylocke cried out intensely as a sharp mini-climax wracked her body.

“Fuck me Master… fuck your slutty whore! Yessssss!”

And then, the moment that the beautiful Asian had been waiting for. Symbiosis with her lover. Her cunt clenched and moulded itself around her lover’s rampaging cockmeat. Xavier bucked his hips savagely, deeply embedding himself in her – the intense muscular control of her pussy pleasuring the lust-crazed Professor in a way he had never felt before. The clenching feeling swirled around his prick, stroking him inside in waves, then she would bear down, feeling his hips piston into her as she matched the feeling inside, the muscles so tight around the circumference of his cock. Like a hard handjob as she rode him, moving her hand under his head, bringing his head to her tit, feeling him maul and feast on the yielding flesh, each wrenching bite sending a rough wave of pleasure through her perfect body.

“Now Master. Fuck my mind. Fuck my mind!”

A virgin penetration, Xavier thrilled as he thrust himself into her head, into her thoughts, into her mindscape. I looked on and smiled to myself as the Danger Room merged and mingled into the scene of mind-fucking the Professor now enjoyed with his new slave, the room darkening, contorting around us as the scene moved from reality into the conscious mind. Psylocke’s conscious mind. The ultimate submission, letting her new Master take control of her very thoughts, moving the scene of their fucking into the realms of her imagination.

She remained on top, still fucking him with the agonizingly rapturous level of muscular control she could exert through her cunt – touching every nerve cluster in his totally engorged fuckmeat, taking him to the limits of ecstasy, and holding him there, encouraging him to use his imagination to take them both over the edge. Him into the new world of release she would show him and her… her into the new life of servitude she craved so deeply.

“Here I can be any one you want,” she purred softly, slowing the pace of her riding, keeping him on the edge. “I can fulfill your every dream. I’m every woman Master. And… every girl.”

Her features blurred, her body changed – and Xavier’s eyes lit up with an even more savage lust as he saw that she had changed herself into the young body of Jubilation Lee. Her eyes showed pain, tears rolling down her cheeks, her tits so small and under-developed, her hairless cunt crammed with his cock. Her puts his hands onto her hips and jammed her down hard – dark stirrings deep inside of him, animating his face with a mask of pure evil.

“Ride me faster. Faster!”

She screamed as she obeyed, both hands resting on his chest as she struggled to contain his seemingly enormous cock. Xavier’s mind raced, his vast telepathic power moving into Psylocke’s mind, taking total control. As I watched it was still Xavier being ridden by Betsy, but if I closed my eyes, shared in the raw memories I could see what he saw. I recognized the shift in her body again as she became the girl Charles wanted. Really wanted. In just a moment, the transformation was complete. Xavier switched position, turned the woman over, fucked deep into her missionary style.

“Please don’t do this Professor! It isn’t right! Don’t make me do this! I love Scott! Please! Please! Don’t!”

Her cries just made him hump deeper and harder into her. Psylocke had become Jean Grey. Her cunt was alive with every thrust into her, he leaned down and rubbed her clitty hard as he rode deeply inside of her, she screamed with pleasure literally wrenched from her body. Xavier was in heaven, fucking her harder and faster, his spare hand groping for her large tit, pulling on the nipple, rolling it, pinching it. His crazed mind took further control, and he could feel his orgasm finally gain dominance over Psylocke’s superb muscular control. All it needed was another push – another mental spur to bring his climax to him. His psyche occupied Betsy’s mind totally, and another transformation began.

Still rampaging deeply into the vise-like snatch, Xavier felt her tits grow as he moved one hand to each breast, felt them swell, then mentally forced her to cum, to climax, feeling her buck and writhe against him, feeling her lose control, a fantasy acted out in Psylocke’s mind as both tits spurted warm milk. Jean Grey was still changing. Not just with her breasts expanding… she was getting younger and younger, stopping around what looked like 16 years of age. Small changes here and there as Xavier sought the ultimate stimulant, moulding his perfect slut right before him. And then… finally… he saw her… I saw her… and he came. He screamed as fucked down deeply into her.

Shocked, I opened my eyes, the young red-headed girl was gone – Xavier was coming down from his orgasm, still deeply inside Psylocke, her conscious mind blown by the experience, the Professor slumping down over her, a dreamy expression of orgasmic contentment on the features I’d seen twisted into evil malevolence, before he too passed out.

The Danger Room shifted back into its natural metallic form, the holographic projectors shutting down as I mentally blocked off the memories that animated them. Even if I had wanted them to continue there was little point with Charles Xavier unconscious. I leaned against the wall, so close to a state of shock that it took a vast effort of my will to stay in control, to put everything into perspective.

Finally, the whole Agenda was coming into focus, and a number of undeniable facts took shape.

Firstly, someone from the future had charged me with this Agenda, given me the powers and the plan to carry it out.

Secondly, one of the aims of the Agenda was to defeat a Charles Xavier gone mad, the DNA of Scott Summers combined with his own, turning him into a sexual monster.

Thirdly, I’d seemingly been successful in that aim. But… it wasn’t over yet.

A supposition now, but it had to be fact. That someone from the future had given me memory implants from the potential future Xavier. They didn’t have to, but they did so any way. To make me understand. To put the pieces of the jigsaw together myself. And I felt that I was there now. The final pieces fell into place. Blocked parts of my mind opened up, revealing the whole picture. It wasn’t over yet. One more massive task still awaited me. And for that, this new, DNA-spliced Xavier would have to be brought under control, his own insane power added to ours. And I knew how it would be done.

Xavier’s perfect girl, the young redhead shaped by his most powerful sexual needs, the ultimate expression of his fucklust… that girl… there was no mistaking it. She was my sister. Stephanie.

****

It felt like driving past a bad accident on the freeway. You should keep your eyes on the road ahead, but you can’t help but lay off the gas, turn to look at the carnage and wallow in it, letting your eyes absorb the horror of what you’re seeing. It’s a natural human reaction. Only of course, I’m not anything like a natural human. Born differently, given a genetic ‘birthright’ by my mother and father. And more than that, a destiny to fulfill. And that destiny is now almost unbearable. I’m not sure if I can rubber-neck at the wreckage any more. Especially when this time, you’ve just seen your mother and your sister paying the price. My mother. Jesus Christ, my mother! This would all take some getting used to. I’d never known my mother. Until now.

Everything was clear to me now. As the memory implants had begun to unblock themselves, I could see now what the Agenda was. The full scope of a scheme, cooked up in the future and served up here in the present. I had been pre-programmed, primed, subconsciously driven by urges I could not understand – or fight against. Revenge against Professor Charles Xavier was a part of the plan, to stop a powerful supervillain by creating one almost as bad – myself. Far worse you might say, since Xavier had been stopped before his evil had even begun to manifest itself. But there was a way forward, a truer, purer purpose for what I had done.

One woman held the answer. I knew it. As I said, everything inside of me made perfect sense now. But she would be able to confirm the unbelievable facts force-fed into my mind. The Shi’ar Empress Lilandra Nerami was asleep in Xavier’s bedroom as I came to visit. Peering into her mind, I could feel the battle going on in her mind as the genetically coded pleasure slave battled against the consciousness of the Empress. I reached into her mind, easily quietening the Phoenix sexual coding, giving her peace. Now I knew all about being a slave to genetics, I could at least help her.

She stirred, awoke, and found me sitting on the side of her bed. I psionically gave her a feeling of safety, instinctively making her know that I wasn’t here to ravish her.

“You want something,” she stated simply – the authoritative tone of the Empress, slightly pompous, no… imperious.

“Only information Lilandra,” I reassured her, smiling. “But first of all, you need to know something. About your beloved Charles. He’s no longer the man you thought he was. Several months ago, he was experimented upon by a rather unpleasant individual. Mr Sinister. His DNA was spliced with that of Scott Summers. As far as I understand it, Charles was then to impregnate Jean Grey. The same old story, I expect that you lot are quite bored with it now. Cable, Nate Grey, Rachel Summers – I tend to lose track of them all myself.”

“Charles had begun to lose himself, but it only got worse when you started,” she looked at me accusingly. “The loss of the X-Men, then all his friends. You took them all away. We put it down to that. Charles retreated, left all his comrades, left his family – what remained of the X-Men. He went into hiding. He obsessed over the loss of Jean Grey.”

“I can well imagine,” I replied gravely. “We’re all driven by genetic imperatives Lilandra. The effect of the Summers DNA on the Professor has been three-fold. Firstly to exponentially boost the power of his mutant abilities. Secondly, to seek out Jean Grey and mate with her – the most powerful characteristic of the DNA. And finally, it’s driven him quite insane. Part of the reason I’m here, to fight fire with fire. To stop him.”

I could see that she wasn’t really buying it. I smiled.

“I have my own genetic imperatives too Empress,” I chuckled, seeing the disbelief in her eyes. “Two years crammed with them. I’ve been a slave to them, but once this is all over, I’ll be at peace. Just as you are now Lilandra. I’ve used the Phoenix Force to remove all trace of the ancient genetic coding. You’ll be totally at peace for the first time in your life. I’ve also left a few harmless, but obvious trace-markers in your genetic make-up. Your scientists will be able to pick up on them and remove the coding from the entire population rather easily, I would say.”

“And the cost of this boon?” she asked, suspicion still darkening her features.

I reached over, put my palm on the side of her face. Closing my eyes I began to transfer some of my newly acquired knowledge directly into her mind. First of all, some of the implanted memories of the future Charles Xavier. Call it a show of faith, a justification. And then the higher purpose of the Submission Agenda. A calling so high I could not believe it myself, an impossibility that I would need a leap of faith to trust in, to believe in. And Lilandra had the answer.

At once the transfer was over, a single tear rolling down her cheek, her eyes locked onto mine, her body shaking.

“You are the one,” she breathed, whispering almost imperceptibly. “You’re the one who can change everything. You can put everything right. The way it should be. I never dreamed that I would even see the day.”

I closed my eyes and took a sharp intake of breath, before standing walking towards the door. “So it’s true then Lilandra. It’s not madness. You’re telling me it’s true. It’s what I’ve got to do.”

“It’s why you’re here.”

I left her, walked outside. The maelstrom had not abated for days now. Torrential rainfall, almost solid, powerfully blasting down from the skies, the whole East Coast of America submerged in the onslaught. It wasn’t natural, I could sense that, but it didn’t concern me. Not even the news of a ’quake across the country in San Francisco measuring 7.2 on the Richter scale concerned me that much. My mind was now dealing with the full cosmic implications of the Agenda. Little did I know that both were, of course, very much connected.

(XLVII) PROFESSOR X VERSUS JEAN GREY

A lot of things came into focus for me over that night, walking around the grounds of the Xavier mansion as the elements that tried to destroy me seemed to move me into a new state of mind. I never really felt capable of performing evil until the Agenda had begun. Waves of madness had swept over me, I felt as though there was some kind of… struggle… taking place inside of me and yet I had no control of who would win. I remembered the corrupting powers I had unleashed in the Scarlet Witch, the pervading evil of Morgan La Fey. All of them I had embraced and used in order to move the Agenda on, all of them had dehumanised me to a certain extent. And then, the counterbalance. Mary Jane Watson. Tonight, of all nights, I wish that I could run away from it all, just as I did whenever I spent time with her. That’s what she was to me – a salvation. A chance to escape destiny just for a precious few hours.

Now it was time to refocus, to draw my energies together for one last time. Summoning the tiniest fraction of the Phoenix Force I reached out with my mind, to take a look at the incarcerated Charles Xavier. It was clear now why he had not attacked straight away. The affair with Sinister had drained him, weakened him, and he had spent the time rallying himself as well as his forces. This new Xavier was only just beginning to tap into the incredible levels of power in himself. Of course, now he was virtually powerless as our prisoner. The psionic safeguards that myself and the Dark Phoenix had erected around the mansion kept the Professor safely in check.

Tomorrow the end-game would play out. The last memory implants would be played out in the Danger Room. The future that never was, because of me. I looked at the mentally shackled Xavier, a sick grin plastered on his face, his powerful mind adjusting to the realisation of exactly who he was. The Agenda’s next step rested on this man gaining his full mental potential – the future Xavier made real, but his power contained. As dangerous as he was, I could sense that even when he hit his potential, he would still be easily controlled. My own mental powers were now on an absolute peak, my mastery of the Phoenix Force now complete. All the pieces of the jigsaw were fitting into place.

A sneak peek into the man’s mind. The raging conflict inside was beginning to subside. The old Professor was now almost overwhelmed by the mental rage of the new. I could see what he needed. The genetic imperative of the Summers DNA made that perfectly clear. Jean Grey. The future-memories inside of me spelled out what happened, or rather what would have happened unless the Agenda had not intervened. Captured, taken, used, again and again. Broken. Tomorrow those memories would be implanted into the Professor, taking him closer and closer to the full lunatic powers of his mental potential. I would give him what he needed, what every Summers family member lusted after. Jean Grey.

****

“Are we going to play another game?” Xavier smirked, looking at me dead in the eyes, his own glinting with malice and power. “Yesterday was such a revelation. A treat if you like, a tantalising glimpse of what I have to look forwards to in the future. I never realised that Sinister had done me such a favour. You have opened so many… interesting… doors for me, young man.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I replied dismissively. “You’re here for a reason, Xavier. And we’re playing this game on my terms.”

“I’m becoming a reflection of you, aren’t I? Everything I did to Emma and my Betsy… it’s the same isn’t it, more or less? And now you’re going to give me Jean aren’t you? Emma, Betsy, Jean… the same targets. Does that not strike you as rather a coincidence? What is the dark truth you wish to keep from me? What is this tie that binds us?”

I contemplated the darker, twisted Charles Xavier in front of me, positively relishing his transition to the evil fuelled by the genetic transformation he had undergone.

“It’s no coincidence Xavier. I know exactly who shaped my destiny. I know what I have to do. I’m here to change everything. Call it Armageddon if you like, but nothing will be the same when I’ve finished.”

“You’re going to give me Jean aren’t you?” he chuckled darkly. “I can feel her presence in the mansion. Give her to me. Give the future to me. Give me Jean’s downfall, give me her body. Give me Jean Grey.”

“All right.”

****

Everything was prepared. The same procedure would be employed again to bring about the memory transference. Xavier and his victim in the Danger Room, the memory implants serving a different purpose for each of them. Jean Grey would become a puppet, animated by the memories. Xavier himself would live those memories, they’d settle in his mind, consume him – the future Professor made real. Everything else would be a holographic fantasy powered by my absolute mental control of the Danger Room. Jean Grey was ready. In reality the Madylene Pryor clone, conditioned with the original’s memories and psyche, her body an exact physical duplicate of the Jean Grey I had taken so long ago and turned into my consort. The Dark Phoenix, reigned in and controlled in a way that the first manifestation never was.

And so I allowed the implants to surface, to tie in with my psychic powers, to bring a future that never was into the present. I concentrated, allowing the scene to take shape before my eyes. I swallowed hard, not really wanting to see what was about to take place, the shadows of memories taking shape, gaining depth and substance – and reality. I knew who Jean Grey was. Finally.

I looked across at Xavier, noticing the absolute relish on his face, his near-panting as he looked over his prize. Dressed only in a plain black soft silken robe, he walked across the floor and stared intently at the vision before him. Jean Grey. Proud, noble Jean Grey. Nonchalantly sitting in a high-backed leather chair, her face set in resolve.

She was dressed in what looked like an updated version of her old Phoenix costume. Dark red, figure-tight, gold sash around the midriff, her lustrous mane of beautiful red hair pulled back into a pony tail, a thin golden circlet surrounding her neck. Genoshan technology, a mutant restraint collar. The large breasts pushed against the golden Phoenix emblem on the costume, and I could see Xavier’s roving eyes mentally undressing her, every breath sending a new wave of desire through his body.

“It’s taken your colleagues so long to discover your whereabouts and return you to me Jean,” he smiled. “But then I should not be surprised. The psychic power unleashed when I first began to realise my potential has probably set off alarms in the minds of every powerful Psi on the planet. Psylocke in particular was on the receiving end of power the likes of which this planet has never witnessed before.”

“Just tell me what you want with me Charles,” she replied, looking defiantly into his eyes. “What? You want to fuck me, is that it? I felt a little of the low you sunk to once you had your fun with Psylocke. Your mind was reaching out for me.”

“Of course it was Jean,” Xavier replied, reaching out, stroking her shoulders, then her cheek. “Since my experience with Mr Sinister I have dreamed about you, lusted after you, desired you. He told me it would happen – the inevitable combination of my old feelings for you and the new power of the Summers DNA. He showed me a great many things Jean. You and Scott. Madylene Pryor and Havok during the Inferno fiasco. Your very existence is as brood mare to the Summers family.”

“It upsets you doesn’t it Professor?” she smiled, knowing that she was needed so badly. “Upsets you that I turned you down so many years ago. You told me you loved me. But I wanted Scott. Young, virile Cyclops. Not some cripple that could never live up to him in the bedroom. I’ve already chosen my man Charles. And I’m his goddess. His dream. No-one else will ever come close to me. We have a perfect love affair.”

“The only one huh? A ‘perfect love’ you say? Such arrogance Jean!” the Professor thundered, lifting her chin, smiling cruelly at her, his eyes animated with the hidden knowledge that he knew would destroy her.

He pointed to the couch in the centre of the room, mentally bringing his powers into focus, removing a two-way psychic veil. He looked at Jean, smiling as he saw the recognition on her face as the shape began to fully materialise. One body, no… two. Olive skin, a long mane of purple hair. A man beneath, his hips pumping deeply into the woman, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm, deep, powerful rhythm. Cries of sexual joy and rapture from the man, his strong arms around the woman’s back, bringing her breasts to him, burying his face between them.

“Oh no… no… NO!” Jean began to shake as she watched them, recognising Scott Summers thrash around in ecstasy as Psylocke rode him expertly.

“Cry out as much as you want my young toy,” Xavier smirked. “Part of my psychic veil is still in operation – he sees only her, feels only her, tastes only her. He wants for nothing else. The male urge to reproduce dominates him. The need to thrust deeply into her, to reach orgasm and to spend himself deeply inside of her. It consumes him Jean.”

Xavier moved closer to his prey, whispering in her ear… “It is a feeling I know only too well.”

“You bastard!” spat Jean in anger and contempt. “You’ve done this! You’ve messed with his mind, set that tramp onto him, you’ve forced him! He… he… loves me!”

Xavier stood behind Jean’s armchair, placing his hands on her temples, reaching out with his mind, bringing Cyclops’ mindscape together with theirs. The Professor smiled as he felt the dark feelings surge through him, looking down and enjoying the sight of Jean’s body stiffening, a strangled cry escaping her mouth.

*Take a look for yourself my young concubine* Xavier projected into her mind, smiling as he felt her trying to hold back, trying to keep Scott’s feelings out of her head.

But it was no use. I could sense that Xavier deeply enjoyed the sensations while Jean tried to shy away from them. She saw herself on a pedestal in Scott’s affections – beautiful, perfect… aloof. She saw herself in Scott’s bed, immobile and frozen as he took her so gently, so delicately, afraid to hurt her, so full of need to pleasure her. But he could sense no need from her, no desire, no urge to fuck him. Just a single long moan escaping her lips as his semen burst inside of her. A long gasp, a glazing of her eyes. No orgasm. Never any orgasm, but… something else. Xavier grinned as he saw it too, knowing the truth of Jean Grey’s high.

And beyond this scene, in the darker shadows of Scott Summers’ mind… images that appalled Jean as much as they thrilled Xavier. Dark Jean. Wild Jean. Naked Jean. Jean sucking his prick expertly, milking his balls. Jean titty fucking him, Jean spreading her ass cheeks wide and begging for it deep in her ass, Jean screaming from her orgasm, body spasming in pleasure. And then… a parallel scene, the same scene. But with Psylocke replacing Jean, the scene more vivid, more real. These were memories. Real memories. Jean began to weep as she saw the truth – Cyclops’ deepest sexual needs made into a real sexual reality by Betsy Braddock, but more than that, the scene grew bigger… Scott’s psyche being fuelled with real life perversions. Things that sickened her, appalled her.

And now the reality. The here and now, the physical sensations Psylocke unleashed within his body. Mindless rapture, increasing exponentially, driving him higher and higher, orgasm building. His own disbelief at just how high we was being taken, the tightening deep in his balls, his shaft now almost numb through rampant sensation. He came. Came hard. He felt the rush of sperm shoot deep within his lover, felt the jet stream of thick cream. But Psylocke was doing something to him. The pleasure wouldn’t stop, his mind was darkening, blackening. And then… too much.

The link was broken. Jean tried to meditate, tried to take the sensations from her mind, but they had been too powerful. They were branded now in her psyche. After what seemed like an eternity she opened her eyes. The Professor was naked, his face contorted with the needs that had previously consumed her husband. His cock was stuffed into Betsy’s mouth, the woman fellating him wantonly as he pushed himself deep, reaching his peak under her skilled tongue. Looking down at Scott, still buried in Psylocke’s cunt, he looked unconscious, totally drained by the beautiful oriental woman.

Xavier grinned as he pulled himself from Betsy’s mouth, slapping the last drops of his cum onto her cheek. He carefully eyed Jean as he did so, watching her deep green eyes lock onto the remnants of thick cream that splashed across her face.

“We all know you live in fear Jean,” Xavier remarked, walking back to Jean, still quite naked, crouching down on his haunches and looking into her eyes. “I know you hold back, giving in to physical sensation might be the first step to touching the darker persona inside of you. You live in fear of something like the Dark Phoenix taking control again. I sometimes feel the tiniest tendrils of the Phoenix Force attempting to claim you, how you resist so well. But there was something else in Scott’s mind that excited me.”

He smiled knowingly, her eyes moving from him to look once again at Psylocke, something like envy flickering in her eyes.

“You don’t need to hide any more Jean. I know exactly what you are. The brood mare needs satisfaction for a job well done. Your body provides it. A high. A buzz. A unique feeling when semen enters your body. And Scott’s is made for you. Your body must sing when he cums for you. That’s your… ‘perfect love’ isn’t it Jean?”

Xavier took his chin in her hand and forced her to stare into his eyes, he smiled evilly as he saw what must be her hunger.

“Betsy?” he called out, never once taking his eyes from Jean’s. “Come here please.”

The Professor kneeled down next to the chair, looking at the object of his desire intensely as she locked her eyes on Psylocke, padding softly towards her. Jean’s eyes were locked on the oriental’s beautiful cunt, flickering over her hair, a string of Scott’s cum smeared into it.

“Is it hunger Jean? Or is it thirst?” Xavier chuckled into her ear. “Feels so good inside doesn’t it? I understand that now. A rush of wellbeing as your body receives that which it craves.”

Psylocke stood less than a foot in front of her now, looking down almost in amusement at the shivering heroine, the dark lusts of Cyclops still haunting her mind. Betsy stopped still, loved the way Jean tried not to look at her, looking down at the long string of thick cum lodged in her trimmed muff of pubic hair.

Xavier looked intently into Jean’s eyes, feeling her disorientation, her confusion – her journey into Scott’s mind had left her… suggestible. He felt a deep thrill rush through him, bringing new life back into his spent cock, the thought of bringing Jean into one with her dark side exciting him intensely.

“Feed her a little Betsy.”

And she obeyed, excited herself as her long, elegant finger moved into the roughness of her hair, smearing Cyclops life-giving cream onto the tip. Scarcely believing what would happen, she offered the fingertip to the beautiful redhead, her own desire increasing as she looked down at Jean. Still so noble, so beautiful, so desirable. Jean’s head darted forward instinctively, then held back… her self-control besting her base desires. Xavier could have predicted it – after all, she had held her desires in check for so long.

“Paint it on her lips, give her a taste.”

And she did so, enjoying the feel of Jean’s pout as her sensitive fingertip smeared the sperm on her soft lower lip, the dabbing a little on the top.

Xavier watched. Jean’s eyes screwed up tightly, trying to resist, her body starting to betray her. She could smell it, the movement of Psylocke’s finger sending the aroma deeply into her nostrils, made her want it. He watched her lips part and knew that she would give in to the first stage of her dark journey. He saw her eyes screwed shut tightly, trying to fight it, then thrilled as he saw the soft pink plumpness of her tongue escape her lips and lave up the cream, a tear sliding down her cheek. She dabbed up all of the cum, feeling the high build inside of her. Not a sexual high, more a narcotic one – a chemical reaction in the brain.

“Cumslut,” murmured Xavier hotly, “I think you want more don’t you Jean? I think you need more… Betsy has so much more to give too.”

And with that, Psylocke stepped back, enjoying the sight of Jean’s despair and her desire, her tongue still dancing around her lips, desperate to scoop up every last atom of what she craved. Betsy relaxed her cuntal muscles, feeling some of Scott’s blasted semen escape the tight confines of her snatch, drooling over her bare lips, and down her perfect, sculpted thigh.

“You see that don’t Jean?”

“Yessssss…”

“Get down on your knees. Yes that’s it. Now enjoy it. Take it. Take it inside of your mouth.”

Psylocke watched in surprise and excitement as Jean sunk to her knees in front of her, brought her hands up to hold her thighs from behind, moving her face nearer to the sperm, such a light white contrast on Betsy’s soft, silken olive skin. Her tongue darted out, the flat of it laying on her thigh and then she licked, scooped it up, brought it into her mouth. Unintelligible noises escaped her mouth as she began to feel the high shoot through her mind – so near to the feelings she enjoyed after Scott had made love to her and yet… so different too. She licked higher… she dived into Betsy’s inner thigh, stroking her legs, rewarded by another pulse of cum from her snatch. She eagerly lapped it up. The more she took, the higher she felt. This was more than she had ever taken from Scott, and the feeling in her mouth, in her mind… so exquisite. So free, so high…

And suddenly… another taste. A different texture… her eyes snapped open. The cum trail had led to Betsy’s cunt, her nose stroking against her clit, her tongue darting between her yielding labia. She felt Psylocke’s cunt pulse, another rush of that sperm she wanted… needed… she lapped harder into Betsy’s cunt and sucked, feelings of self-disgust flowing through her as she felt the woman respond, the taste of another woman in her nostrils, in her mouth as she sucked harder.

“That’s it… how do you like your first taste of cunt?” Xavier was on haunches next to her, sneering into her ear as she ate out Psylocke, so eager for the cum that took her higher and higher. “That’s my sexy little cumslut, that’s it… be gay for your cum, because you know deep inside you fucking want it… you’ve always wanted it… but you’re not scared any more are you slut?”

Jean dug deeper, stroked Betsy’s ass, scratched deep with her nail and sucked. She hated herself, loathed herself… but wanted more. Until there was no more cum inside of her. But still she licked, still she sucked. She was so high now that all sense had left her – her mind and her body were detached, two separate entities. She felt a surge… a wettening on her face. Betsy had cum. And she had cum hard. Squirted over her.

Xavier smiled, noticing a stream of his own semen escaping Psylocke’s mouth, trickling down her chin. Her eyes alive with malice, she kneeled down next to Jean, offering it to her. Jean looked into her eyes, looked down at her chin. Xavier held his breath, his mind full of questions. Was he really genetically superior to Scott Summers as Sinister had claimed? Was he really more worthy of impregnating Jean Grey? Now he would find the answers to his questions.

She licked. Her eyes opened wide. She licked again, body trembling, a new rush shooting through her mind. Now it was all gone. But there was more. So much more in her sweet mouth. She kissed hotly at Betsy’s lips, licking between them softly, until Betsy finally relented, opening her mouth and frenching Jean deeply, ladling Xavier’s spent cum into her mouth. Jean returned the kiss with all her passion, caught up in the high, but also in the sexual excitement of pleasing another woman. She snowballed the cum deeply into her mouth, swallowed, let the high surround her, consume her.

Xavier masturbated… masturbated swiftly, licking Jean’s cheek, feeling himself reach the peak so quickly, feeling ropes of his cum burst into his hand. Crudely he pulled away the golden sash from Jean’s costume, sending his hand into her skintight pants, watching her pass out as he roughly massaged his cum into her snatch, over her clit, then rubbed her for several minutes, not stopping even though she was unconscious. He enjoyed watching her body convulse as he kneaded his cream into her weeping sex.

“Is she yours now Master?” Psylocke smiled, embracing the Professor and kissing his neck.

“I thought she would be Betsy,” replied Xavier thoughtfully, still stroking into Jean so softly, so deeply. “I thought she would be. But I can sense the defence mechanisms building inside of her even as she sleeps. Every time I break her down like this, her mind regroups, regenerates and rebuilds itself. I can take her cunt, but I can never defeat her spirit. Take her to Cerebro. It’s time to… rewrite a little history.”

****

“So ironic Jean. I take you lower than you’ve ever been before and still I cannot defeat you. You have indeed grown powerful over the years. Were I try my luck with the Jean Grey I met so many years ago, you would not stand a chance.”

Xavier stood over one of the metallic treatment beds in the Cerebro chamber. Usually reserved for victims of mental trauma, the Professor had adapted this one to suit his own ends. Jean was strapped down, entirely secure in the metallic restraints, the collar still in place around her neck. A look of abject defeat coloured her features, tears stained her cheeks. What excited Xavier was that she had been stripped down to her briefs, a plain blue sports bra and panties. It would be easier to climb on top of her, so easy to move the panties aside and impale her deeply, to possess her sexually.

“What’s it to be Professor?” she sobbed. “You know my weakness. God help me you could rape me here and now and I’d be willing you to… to…”

“The word is orgasm Jean. Climax. Ejaculate. And I do so adore my little cumslut. I thought that would be enough. I know that in time you would beg me… worship me… but you were hiding something from me in our mind link earlier and it’s far more arousing than giving a strung out sperm junkie her next fix.”

He leaned down, stroked her cheek, stroked downwards, over her shoulder, her breast.

“You’re a skilled telepath, your knowledge of telekinetics surpasses all others. You will make an exceptional lover Jean, easily surpassing my Betsy… and through that you will achieve your genetic destiny… as mother of a new… master race.”

He reached over to the control panel, picked up the lightweight Cerebro headgear, and smiled, putting the helmet on. He opened his hand, showing Jean a series of Shi’ar memory packs. Each as small as a postage stamp, yet capable of holding thousands of memories and experiences in their digital domain.

“The younger Jean Grey would be so much more… malleable… so Cerebro, combined with my enhanced powers and this Shi’ar technology will rewrite your memories. I shall mould you, re-shape you… give you a new identity. Turn you into the woman of my dreams. Beautiful, passionate, skilled, wanting… submissive, and so so hungry… you’ll never know of the danger of Dark Phoenix, never know sexual repression – I shall make you flower.”

“Don’t do this Charles. Don’t! I’m your slave already. You discovered my weaknesses…”

“And exploited them Jean,” the Professor smirked. “Don’t you get it my young concubine? It’s not enough. I only wish my powers were such that I could re-make you without recourse to such… methods. Perhaps I’ll work on it, bind others to my power through sex alone. But as for you – I ache for you Jean. I need you now.”

She tried to struggle, tried to reach out with her mind to crush the Shi’ar memory packs. Xavier smirked as she cried out in pain, the mutant inhibitor collar around her neck burning as it effortlessly contained the outpouring of energy. All the controls stood ready as he slotted the packs into place, Xavier’s mind reaching out with Cerebro.

And suddenly… everything was black. Absolute nothingness. Total sensory oblivion. If it was even possible to imagine such a thing, I’d call it Death.

(XLVIII) JEAN’S CORRUPTION

Whose memories are these? Jean’s? Xavier’s? Where did I get them from? This isn’t the Danger Room any more. I’m nothing more than a spectre, looking into… what? Another spectral presence is here with me. Him. The Professor. Somehow we’ve moved beyond holographic reconstruction. This is it, the memory implanting procedure. We’re both inside Jean’s mind. I can see the Shi’ar datastream rewriting her history. Gone is her early discovery as a mutant, gone forever is her status as a 13-year-old student brought to the School for Gifted Youngsters by two very clever, very loving parents.

The datastream replicates memory. The circumstances and the knowledge fed straight into her mind, the more vivid, striking memories re-enacted as if they were happening right here and right now – the right here and right now in question being Jean Grey’s bedroom in her upper middle class suburban home, way past midnight, the room illuminated only by two bedside lamps.

I can see her there. 17-years-old. Young, beautiful… blossoming. Her eyes more animated, more alive than the Jean I know – a world away from the Dark Phoenix I’ve taken as my… my… consort. The word is innocent. A touch of horror in my soul. She can’t be my consort. Not her. What have I done? And what is Xavier doing? I think to myself that he has to be stopped, that the horrors that await Jean Grey have to be averted. But then I remember that they have been, that these are echoes of a future I have prevented. I permit myself a sigh of relief.

But there’s something else about this Jean Grey. It’s her graduation and this is her prom night… she looks divine. Her sleek shoulders are bare, a touch of glitter reflecting in the dim 40 watt lighting, her dress is long, pink, fluffy, lacy around the bust. Her breasts, as perfect then as I had made them now – pert, large, jutting, creamy white. Bunched together and on display in this incredible dress. Homecoming Queen. She still had the tiara in her beautifully styled hair, a touch of colour adding even more depth of crimson to her lustrous red hair.

“Tommy! You’ve been staring at them all night!” she joked and giggled, collapsing on her bed.

“You look so… so fucking gorgeous.” A male voice. Guy in a typical prom tuxedo. Tall, blonde, well built. Quarterback material. He leaned across her, dipping his head into her neck, inhaling her scent, kissing her, licking, impotent hands desperately moving over her outsize dress hungry for some flesh. Failing that he kissed downwards to her tits, stroking his face on the swell of them, licking them, grazing his teeth against the soft, cool flesh.

I’m looking at Jean’s face… she’s glowing, loving it, giggling girlishly in a way quite unlike the Jean Grey I know. And I know now what Xavier has done. This is a carefree girl, enjoying life without the curse of mutant powers. She’s a young girl experimenting with her sexuality, revelling in her beauty, her developing desirability. But this whole scene is the twisted creation of Charles Xavier. I just know that Something Bad is going to happen. And I feel terrible about it. Terrible for what is going to happen to her and sorry about myself too. The whole scene before me is a reminder of a childhood I never had. Normality.

Somehow Jean brings her boyfriend to her lips and she opens her mouth wide and kisses him deeply, probing her tongue between his lips and gently swirling it around inside. She moans and kisses him deeper, taking him quite by surprise, her hand snaking down to massage his crotch, and I begin to sense something. He’s kissing her back, his arms are around her, desperately trying to find the zip to her dress in amongst the mountain of material. When he gives up, his hands snake around to her tits again… and the kiss is broken.

The look in her eyes is beautiful. The look of an innocent girl about to acquiesce. Pink gloved hands move up to the straps of her dress, lowering one, then the other. His mouth is on the swell of her breasts, her hand is rubbing his cock so hard now through his pants. The look on Jean’s face is sublime… young hunger, green eyes dulled with lust. But I can see that something isn’t right.

I realise with horror that now is the time for her latent mutant abilities to kick in, her mind connected with his, their lusts intermingling in her mind. Images dancing through her consciousness, his memories splicing themselves with hers. Mental images of Jean sucking cock, a boy masturbating hard and fast, Jean’s tits, biting on them, mauling them – the boy’s fantasies blasting themselves into her mind. And she is quite unprepared for it. Her hunger builds, her hand deftly unzips him, brings his throbbing cock out into the cool air. He is moaning, she is jerking him. Harder and faster. She pulls the bodice of her dress down and moves his mouth to her right nipple where he takes full advantage, licking, sucking, pulling on her perfect nipple.

Jean is inside his mind raping his memory for sexual stimulation even as her hand pulls on his cock faster and harder. She hisses in satisfaction as she finds the memories of his porno VHS collection. Women sucking, getting fucked, cum on their faces, in their mouths. Blowjobs, cumshots, anal. She is voracious for more. Her mind screams for it, her body getting hotter by the moment. When she pushes him back on the bed, she consumes his cock whole, gagging and coughing around it but in no way put off. The style of her blowjob is sheer hunger, total need, her only experience ripped out of her boyfriend’s mind. Oblivious to both of them the room seems to come alive, the bedside lamp falling to the floor, a mirror cracking, furniture creaking then smashing open. Jean Grey is losing control, both telepathy and telekinesis unleashed, unchecked.

But all Jean Grey wants is more. She is digging deeper into his mind now, past the videos memories, to his masturbation technique – she is thrilled when she finds him pulling himself off over a picture of her, moans deeply as he reaches orgasm, drowning the picture of her under a thick mess of white. Deeper, deeper… dirty magazines, watching Mom and Dad fucking through the keyhole… and then… a sudden rush in her mouth, a dousing of salty thickness, so cloying, it’s everywhere she feels more and more… but only then is the connection broken, only then can she hear his scream, only then is she blinded as the main light in her bedroom is turned on. The scene is pure horror, the room a mess as her telekinetic powers were unleashed – but more than that, a comatose boy on her bed, his limp cock in her hand, Jean with her tits out, deep red bite marks on them, and cum dribbling from the sides of her mouth.

Both her parents in their night clothes look on in horror.

****

“Agent Frost, Agent Wyngarde… FBI,” the man stated coolly, acknowledging Jean’s mother and father. “Please may we come in?”

The day that Jean and her parents have been dreading. Things have not gone so well – the boy’s parents are rich and powerful and have been making things difficult, the police are involved, and now the Federal authorities have their part to play. She only recalls small talk until she hears the bombshell. The tests she had to do. They prove she’s a mutant. They say she’ll need special schooling, that she leaves tomorrow. She doesn’t cry, she isn’t even upset. In her mind she deserves to be punished. Every night is a sexual nightmare as the boy’s sexual cravings return to haunt her mind. Every morning she wakes up feeling so wet, so needy… but so guilty too. Xavier’s memory implants are as perfect as they are evil, turning Jean’s mutant powers against her.

Jean contemplates the two FBI agents unhappily when they arrive the following day to take her away. She smiles weakly at the man – tall, dark and attractive… thin lips but his eyes burn when they look at her. Jean instinctively feels a little better about herself, feeling the man’s appreciation of her, not fully understanding desire. All she knows is that he is aware of the truth about her but he isn’t scared of her. She brightens up. The woman… just a few years older than her, early 20s, blonde, absolutely beautiful. Jean can remember the way her father is looked at this woman, a look she’d never seen before.

The farewell was long, protracted, tearful. Jean found herself repeatedly saying she was sorry. She knew that Daddy’s little girl had died that night and this was just one more burden to carry on the way to her ‘special’ college.

“You have to realise that you are a very special girl Jean,” the woman cooed softly, stroking her long red hair with affection, her eyes warm and inviting to the tearful girl. Those eyes… despite herself she began to relax, her eyes closing, a feeling of stillness and well-being flooding her body.

“Can we talk now Emma?” Wyngarde enquired, turning to Jean and caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

“Of course we can. She can still hear you, is still aware of you… but so what? I think she realises that we’re taking her to a better place, a better life. Goodness knows, that ‘home’ she lived in was an aesthetic disaster. The girl has some inkling of style – I’ve no idea where she got it from.”

“There is something special about her, you can feel it too.”

“She’s telekinetic, telepathic… so much raw potential Jason. It comes from the father, I can sense it, I can sense the latent power within him. I found it quite… attractive. He should be investigated for the Hellfire Club’s genepool.”

And then I knew who these people were. Emma Frost, younger than the White Queen I possess – but still undeniably the same woman. And Wyngarde… I didn’t recognise him, but the name matched with another Hellfire agent, the mutant codenamed Mastermind, the man who unwittingly created Dark Phoenix. I remembered now why the face didn’t fit. This man was the master of illusion, changing his physical appearance on the slightest of whims.

“And what about the girl?” Wyngarde asked, his eyes flickering over the pleasing features, down to the sizeable swell of her breasts, to her bare legs, toned yet soft, visible beneath a plain skirt cut just above the knee. “What is to become of her?”

“We keep her, we mould her, we train her. The girl will serve the Hellfire Club well,” Emma turned, ran the back of her palm across Jean’s serene face. “Yes, Miss Grey will be most useful – I won’t have to rebuff Shaw’s advances quite so often if he is otherwise… occupied.”

Wyngarde’s smirk vanished literally in an instant, his eyes tinged with a barely contained jealous fury. But more than that, I myself knew of Emma’s tastes, the women she had procured for the organisation, how they were made to serve. But this was all a fantasy, a sick illusion crafted by a deranged Charles Xavier and yet it would be as real to Jean Grey as genuine recollections.

“Let us not forget that it was my contacts who brought the girl to our attention. I want my slice of the pie too, Emma.”

“That… that is a matter for the Black King.”

All the pieces of Xavier’s jigsaw began to move into place of their own accord. A young teenaged mutant, unaware of her own powers, unable to control them. A dark mirror to Jean’s actual upbringing in the caring environment of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

****

The datastream progressed – a blast of long-term memory, a couple of weeks of it. She met a few other girls also being tutored, and was taught daily by Emma Frost, but there was no sign of either Wyngarde or Shaw. She was learning about her mutant powers, mastering simple exercises to test her telepathy, her telekinesis… she was an exemplary student, but using her powers merely made her feel empty inside. The emotional blast of the first experience visited her on a nightly basis, and could only be abated by touching herself, burning in shame knowing that her mind was being monitored.

Every morning after she had masturbated, Emma Frost would smile at her knowingly. She could feel her presence in her mind, even if there was no way to shut her out. What made it worse was the images that sprung into her mind as she did it. First of all she concentrated on Tommy, her old boyfriend, remembering the feel of him lapping at her nipples, biting her breasts… the feel of him in her mouth. But then it changed. It was Wyngarde in her mouth now. And the day she finally caught sight of the hulking form of Sebastian Shaw, she fantasised about him. Such a big man… so muscular…

One day after class, this:

“Miss Grey my dear, we should talk… woman to woman,” Emma smiled softly, sitting on the redhead’s desk provocatively, firm thigh on display, white lacy stocking top peaking out from under a brilliant white short skirt. “I’m very concerned about your… nocturnal imagination.”

Jean felt her cheeks flush, the rush of blood burning her cheeks with shame.

“I see you know exactly what I am talking about,” she continued, lifting Jean’s chin up, looking into her eyes. “You know… I’m having some very… wet… dreams because of you, young lady. And the psychic outpourings are increasing the sexual tension in your dorm.”

“I’m… sorry Miss Frost… can’t stop it. Not since that night… you know all about it, don’t you? God, it’s so embarrassing.”

“I can help you Jean,” purred Emma sweetly. “Stand up… that’s right… come sit on my lap.”

The White Queen giggled as her student complied, accommodating her by wrapping her arms around the younger girl’s shoulders, bringing her close.

“You just need a little… distraction.”

Jean breathed faster, looking deeply into Emma’s gorgeous blue eyes, looking down to her lips, seeing them part, her tongue moistening them. The White Queen pulled her closer and kissed her lips softly, the tip of her tongue emerging from her mouth, gently pushing into Jean’s mouth. Both of them could feel their excitement growing, Emma pulling back from the kiss as she felt the pressure of Jean’s mind press against hers. Emma smiled, seeing the hunger in her student’s eyes, frowning only slightly in resisting the powerful lusts of Jean’s thoughts.

“My chamber, 19:30, tonight. Go see the Head Maid at 19:00, and she’ll prepare you. And Miss Grey? I would advise you to be punctual.”

Just three hours to wait and they felt like 30 to Jean Grey. She ate her supper, took a shower, all the time desperately trying to rein in her desires, to shut off her mind to the other students. And yet she could not help replaying the kiss in her mind. Emma’s lips, so much softer than Tommy’s… her tongue… and so many questions. Was Emma gay? Was she going to become gay too? She thanked god that she would have her answers before bed tonight – she would not need to frig herself, would not have to struggle to contain her moans from the other girls in her dorm. She would be with the beautiful Emma, who looked so good, who smelt so good, who felt so good, who… tasted so good. The kiss… the kiss burned into her mind.

She arrived ten minutes early at the Head Maid’s room. Like a good girl she held herself and waited until it was seven o’clock on the dot before knocking on the door. She was dressed in the classiest jet-black silken lingerie, her hair was washed and styled, her face was beautifully made up in the most expensive cosmetics. She looked at herself in the mirror, totally transformed. Lips emphasised in crimson, eyes burning through darkened make-up… stockings, garters, a black teddy that barely contained her generous breasts. High heels topped off the look.

She ran to the White Queen’s quarters, a silken black robe protecting her modesty. She rapped on the door softly, to find it opening of its own accord. Cautiously she stepped in… the room was dark, the Hellfire Club’s typical décor of deep red and oaken boarding offset only by a range of candles illuminated at the far side of the room.

“Come in sweet girl.”

Emma wore an exact duplicate of her own apparel, the only difference being the colour white, her white silken robe open, revealing the luscious curves of her body. She drew Jean closely into her embrace, feeling the younger girl’s excitement, her shivering need, gently kissing her soft, bare neck, enjoying the way she moved her head to give her more access.

“I know the wait has been a torture for you Jean,” murmured the White Queen softly, “Tonight I’ll give you what I want, something you’ve been dreaming of. We’ll try to take the need away together.”

She opened the girl’s robe, ran her hands up her body, pausing only slightly at her proud breasts before shrugging off the robe, leaving her in just the lingerie, Emma’s eyes flashing over the ripe young flesh before her, her fingers trailing to Jean’s face, stroking her cheek, her index finger stroking between her lips. She gently urged it into her mouth, feeling Jean’s tongue twist around it, their eyes making deep eye contact.

“Suck it Miss Grey, I want you to suck it,” whispered Emma softly, “Close your eyes and suck it like you sucked that boy’s cock.”

The White Queen smiled as she felt a rush of shock make her young charge tremble, not expecting filthy language from her cultured teacher. Emma smiled in triumph, enjoying the look on Jean’s face as her eyes narrowed, then closed, her mind moving to a different place as she took the White Queen’s hand in both of hers, moving the index finger deeply into her mouth, running her questing tongue around the sensitive fingertip, over and around her fingernail, laving the soft skin. Emma felt the young girl’s desire double, triple, quadruple, her mind alive with the forbidden images of that night. The older woman smiled to herself as she felt Jean pant, enjoying with her the images she had literally sucked from her boyfriend’s mind. Emma moved her free hand up to cup Jean’s shapely breast through her black teddy, enjoying her needy mewling. And then it began, the insistent probing at her mind from the unschooled telepath, growing in

Signalling to the shadows, Emma smiled as Jason Wyngarde stepped out, enjoying the spectacle in front of him. Dressed only in a loose robe, he eyed both of the women hungrily, but his eyes centred on the gorgeous redhead, enjoying the way she moved, the way she sucked hungrily at the White Queen’s finger.

Emma moved deftly behind Jean, the younger girl’s eyes snapping open as her mouth was bereft of the cock substitute. Instantly she felt a rush deep inside of her, a deep urge spreading from the pit of her stomach downwards into her crotch – a sympathetic rush of wetness readying her virgin pussy. She had felt an instant attraction to Jason Wyngarde the first time she had seen him. And now he was here, in front of her… and as she looked down, she instinctively licked her lips, seeing his obvious hardness. A single word dominated her mind, made her mouth water.

“Cock,” Emma whispered into her ear, licking it, nibbling it. “So hard, but soft, such a unique texture. I know you ache for it Miss Grey.”

“Yes Miss,” sighed Jean softly, breathing faster, braking out into a pant as Wyngarde approached her, slackening the robe, allowing his prick to slip from it. Emma recoiled, regathered her mental shields – the lust of the girl igniting like dry tinder, her nights of furtive masturbation taking nothing away from the edge she felt now. The White Queen felt it, contained it, effortlessly fought back Jean’s probes into her mind – the hunger for sexual experience now far stronger than it had been when she’d ripped her boyfriend’s mind apart.

“Is she safe now?” asked Wyngarde, the fate of Jean’s boyfriend still very much in his mind, tempered only by his desire to fuck her.

“Quite safe,” Emma smiled, lying through her teeth, toying with Jean’s hair, stroking her thighs against the back of hers, her hands moving up to the younger girl’s shoulders. “On your knees Miss Grey, where you belong.”

Jean Grey almost collapsed as she dropped to her knees, her eyes locked on Wyngarde’s cock, tall and erect, so ripe and ready. She felt her pussy rhythmically pulse, a wave of wetness accompanying each feeling of needy pleasure. Her mouth opened, she audibly panted and Wyngarde moved closer, his hands on the back of her head, forcing it nearer to his cock, a cruel smile spreading across his features as he smeared his meat over her soft cheeks, enjoying her cry of frustration as she tried to catch it between her lips.

“Don’t tease her,” Emma admonished, a flash of anger in Jason’s eyes as he relented, swiftly replaced by a hiss of pleasure, the feel of her lips grazing the glans exciting him. “The Black King is rewarding you for your efforts Jason, Miss Grey will prove very useful to us.”

Wyngarde looked down at Jean and cried out in pleasure as she engulfed him hungrily, drool escaping her mouth as she sucked hard, swirling her tongue freely around the tip, into his slit, the divine feel of her saliva dripping along the underside of his length heightened as the young redhead brought her hand up to his shaft and fisted it eagerly.

Emma raised an eyebrow in surprise at the accomplished technique, smiling as she remembered the pornography Jean had assimilated from the mind of her boyfriend. She looked at Wyngarde intensely, slowly, imperceptibly lowering the mental shield that protected him from the redhead’s psychic prowess, a guttural moan escaping her as she felt her mind unshackled, her hand snaking around, dipping into the crease of his ass.

“Look at me Jason,” whispered the White Queen, all emotion draining from her face as she freed her breasts from her lacy white lingerie, kneading them and rubbing them in front of his eyes.

She could feel Wyngarde’s guard lowering, the combination of the sight of forbidden flesh and Jean’s incredible mouth driving him totally to distraction. It was all the lust-crazed redhead needed to slip into Jason’s mind, her hunger for cock equalled only by her insane need for forbidden knowledge. He screamed out in pleasure-pain as Jean worked on him inside and out.

Her mouth pushed deeper onto him, his tip pressing against her throat, saliva drooling profusely over his balls, her hand kneading them deeply. The more she pleasured him, the more pliable his mind, the deeper she could go. The young girl was insatiable, unstoppable, eyes closed, body thrilling to the sensation of cock, mind systemically raping Wyngarde’s memories… all the women he had seduced and taken using his illusory powers as Mastermind, all of his sexual conquests, every savage high, every mind-numbing perversion – Jean took them all, digging deeper, becoming increasingly more unsatisfied the further she went back into his history… until… yesssssss…

The rush in her mouth, the blast to her mind – Wyngarde’s orgasm striking her physically and psychically. She milked his balls and the shaft, eking every last drop from the spasming tip before the ex-super villain dropped to the ground. This time there was no coma in her victim, nothing to stop her mental ravaging – Wyngarde was quite dead. Just as the White Queen had planned.

Emma pulled her student up, away from the spent body, turned her around, and french-kissed her passionately, her hand reaching down to cup her mound, fingers slipping around the crotch of the teddy, into her flooded pussy. Jean moaned wildly into her mouth, the beautiful blonde stroking into her cunt… two fingers, twisting them violently, expertly thumbing her clitoris, breaking the kiss, initiating eye contact as she effortlessly brought Jean Grey off, her screams of release elating the White Queen, who turned, checking that each of the video cameras filming the scene were still rolling. She teasingly blew a kiss to the closest one and smiled.

****

Mere hours later, in Jean’s dorm, the young girl lay in her bed, unable to sleep, her mind awash with the sensations she had enjoyed earlier, the lust, the desire, the triumph as her mouth filled with thick man cream… and Emma Frost, fingering her… was she still a virgin after that?

*Time for your next lesson Miss Grey*

A cool breeze swept over her body, even under her sheets as Jean instantly recognised the voice of the White Queen in her mind, the sensual caress on her skin quite maddening, yet feeling so good, spreading over her body. The breeze brushed up against her cheek, down against the side of her breasts, over her stomach, swooping between her thighs. Jean smiled willingly, spreading her legs and arching her back, allowing the sensations to flow over her taut body.

*You catch on quickly my pet… this will be your first object lesson in the sensual powers of telekinesis*

Jean moaned, her body tensing, just the sound of Emma’s voice in her mind, the texture of her husky voice adding to the sensation, a contended smile spreading across her face as she felt her first pulse of wetness between her legs. The soft sensations flooded over her body now, waves rippling over her breasts, the breeze on her thighs replaced with an insistent buzzing sensation that danced between her inner thighs. Her ears were entertained with the sound of cloth ripping, cold air tightening her nipples, her hem of her nightdress rising on her thighs as she squirmed on the bed.

The young girl reached out with her mind, finding her teacher, replicating every move, every sensation on the White Queen’s body, learning through example as she honed the powers of her telekinesis into a new, distinctly pleasurable form. Jean smiled as she felt Emma’s surprise at the skill of her pleasuring, copying her techniques and then adding to them – as the White Queen sent delicious buzzing sensations ever closer to her needy cunt, Jean wasted no time, amplifying those feelings, plunging them deep into Emma’s hot sex. She was learning fast, instinctively aware of what felt good, what felt right… she was naturally more passionate than the White Queen and now… now she began to realise that.

Jean surged from her bed, the sheets falling back, expert telekinetic fields taking hold of her body. Emma fought back with all the skills of her experience, flooding the younger girl’s body with ecstasies, yet still holding back from stimulating her cunt short of one or two ‘careless’ brushes against her raging clitoris. Not that it was needed – the redhead’s body convulsed with passion, she cried out in need, she gave up on mirroring Emma’s telekinetic ministrations and gave in to sensation, crying out in wanton need, her body writhing on the bed, her sweet nectar drooling from her snatch as she humped at thin air.

“Fuck me!” she screamed hard, feeling her orgasm approach. “Fuck me harder Miss Frost! More… please… more!”

Jean moaned like a whore, riding the waves that took her higher and higher, screaming in rapture as she hit the peak, her fists pounding on the bed as she came. So so good… and yet… so empty inside.

As she felt her senses refocus on the real world, her body flooded with shame, stiffening in embarrassment, the realisation that her entire dorm was awake, half of the girls gathered around her bed. They stared open-mouthed at her, others glanced over her body hungrily, forcing Jean to take stock – she looked down, her nightdress roughly split, allowing her breasts to spill out, the hem pushed up to her waist, her body covered in a sheen of perspiration. She sensed she could hear the White Queen’s mocking laughter as she tried to gather up the sheets on her bed, burying her face in a pillow and weeping deeply.

****

“My name is Tessa Niles, Miss Grey,” the raven-haired girl stated simply, looking over Jean slowly, deliberately. “I’m the personal assistant to Mr Shaw and we’ll both be seeing him… shortly.”

It was the morning after the night before, Jean’s body still tingling from the telekinetic onslaught the White Queen had put her through, a deep sense of shame running through her body as she remembered the incredulous looks on the faces of her fellow students, their laughter, their whispered gossip and chuckling when they had been ordered back to their beds by the Head Maid. The following morning, after a sleepless night, she had returned, taking Jean to her quarters, making her look presentable enough for her audience with the Black King of the Hellfire Club. She had known that the meeting was to be important as the maid spent time styling her hair, applying dark make-up, trussing her up in a tight black, lacy corset, skimpy panties and thigh-length boots. Looking in the mirror she despised the way she looked, it screamed ‘slut’… and yet, that was what she was becoming. In her heart, she knew it… and a part of her that ashamed her welcomed it.

The assistant, Tessa, was an attractive girl. Flowing locks of raven black hair, an almost porcelain-white tone to her skin, not quite as tall as Jean, but still an immensely attractive girl, about the same age as the redhead and yet… her eyes alternated between a machine-like blankness, a lack of emotion, and at the same time, a level of sadness and… experience. She dressed like a secretary, black knee-length skirt, matching jacket, white blouse beneath. The very epitome of office chic and yet Jean couldn’t help to find her rather attractive. Inwardly she cursed herself, knowing that she had never had such urges before until she had met Emma Frost, the woman who had so effortlessly introduced her to girl love.

“I know why I’m here,” sighed Jean softly, staring down at her costume sadly, appealling for sympathy as she looked into Tessa’s eyes. “I know why I was brought here, period. There’s something wrong with my head. Brings out the worst side of men and women… and I can’t help it.”

“You’re a powerful telepath Miss Grey,” replied Tessa softly, running her hand through that glorious mane of red hair. “But more than that, you’re a girl with needs. Needs that need to be taken care of…”

“And your beauty is such that I will handle those needs personally.”

Jean spun around, her face almost colliding with the muscular chest of Sebastian Shaw. Dressed merely in a robe, he smiled as he gently pushed the young girl back, the first flashes of fuck lust in his eyes as he took in her sluttish dress sense, enjoying her perfect breasts, crushed and squeezed inside the corset, the laces digging into her malleable tit flesh. Looking downwards he enjoyed the expanse of thigh above her boots, his mind imagining her sucking wantonly. And of course, the final coup de grace, the girl was virgin. Physically intact. Never penetrated.

Jean could see his gaze lock onto her crotch, swallowing visibly as Tessa moved behind Shaw, her small arms wrapped around his midriff, pulling away the knot that held his robe together. She pulled it slowly, Jean feeling the fear inside her grow as it fell away, the excitement matching the near terror as she saw his large prick – a little longer than Wyngarde’s… but so much thicker. Her heart pounded hard, excitement, fear and adrenalin flooding her body. She backed away, her deep green eyes locked upon the thick meat, opening ever wider.

“I’m going to give you everything that you’ve dreamed about Miss Grey,” Shaw smiled, matching her step by step. “I’ll make the fantasy a reality, and Tessa will feed your mind as I… nourish your cunt.”

“It’s… it’s too b-big…” she muttered. “Please… I-I’ve… never…”

“Dressed like a whore, hungry like a slut,” observed Shaw cruelly, before slowly breaking out into soft laughter, “but with all the fears of an untouched little tease, just about to get her comeuppance. How very delightful.”

Tessa’s hands snaked down, wrapping themselves around the thick shaft, rubbing hard, rubbing deep, Jean almost boggling at the dark hardness, offset so beautifully by the girl’s creamy white hands. At the same time she stared at the tip which seemed to become a deeper shade of red all the while. She tried to imagine it moving inside of her, making her instinctively cover her crotch, subconsciously trying to protect herself.

“T-t-too b-big…” she stuttered, moving back a step at a time, the breath escaping her as she hit the wall behind her. She looked around frantically, but the dark, oak-panelled room only had one route of escape and the hulking form of Shaw was blocking it.

Jean pressed her hands back against the wall, watching as the Black King effortlessly brought Tessa in front of him, her eyes lighting in pleasure as she was turned to face the young redhead, his massive hands groping over her tits, easily pulling apart her blouse, the cloth ripping, yielding, allowing his hands to slip inside, molesting her breasts. Jean found herself catching her breath, trying hard to fight the telltale signs of excitement gathering in the pit of her belly, beginning to feel the warm pleasure waves that would radiate out. She looked at Tessa’s face which flowed into the smiles of sexual pleasure, biting her lip as she watched her stroke her hips back against his cock. Her eyes snapped open, a piercing glare taking her in an instant.

Telepathic contact. Any attempt to fight it was a poor effort this time. Jean’s mind hadn’t been schooled in psychic defence, and the rush of sensation that Tessa gave her was like the sharp smack of hard narcotics, fucklust being Jean Grey’s drug of choice. But there was something else – and I knew what it was. Tessa wasn’t just a telepath, she was also the closest thing in humanity to a computer, capable of storing a near infinite amount of information. She never forgot a word, possessed total recall of even the smallest fact. And there were things in her mind that Jean wanted – her experiences under Shaw, the sights, sounds and sensations that the months in the Hellfire Club had given the pretty raven-haired secretary.

Jean felt her hands begin to roam over her body of their own accord, taking in her imprisoned breasts, her thinly protected pussy. Eyes still locked onto Tessa’s, she began to touch herself, stroke herself, caress herself intimately in a way that she’d never shared with anyone. The sound of the tearing of cloth began to excite her in a deeply arousing manner, smiling in hunger as Tessa’s perky little breasts were brought out into the open, so easily kneaded and crushed in Shaw’s massive hands. Jean could feel it. She could sense everything that Tessa experienced, albeit in a more magnified manner, being far more a sexually charged creature than the young assistant.

She couldn’t help herself, couldn’t hold herself – she cried out in need and triumph as she watched Tessa’s skirt literally torn away by Shaw, her eyes alive with passion and need as she rubbed herself harder, seeing the Black King’s massive fist collect her delicate black panties and callously rip them away.

Tessa smiled knowingly at Jean, lifting one foot onto a nearby chair, dipping forwards, bending – the link between the two girls now at its most intimate, Tessa drawing on Jean’s animalistic needs to help flood her cunt, enjoying and learning about the depths of need from the redhead, but still, maddeningly, denying her access to the sexual essence of the Hellfire Club, held within her mind. Jean felt her frustration peak now – she could sense the inviting darkness of the Club’s sexual secrets, but more than that she could feel that thick, seemingly massive cock stroking into the cleft of Tessa’s ass… nearer and nearer to where it belonged…

Jean’s fear of being split into two died in that moment as she realised that it was about belonging. Ever since she had first taken hold of her boyfriend’s prick she had needed it… inside. Deep inside. Consuming her, possessing her. And now her fears dissipated, replaced with a singular need to be taken. To be fucked. To be made to orgasm over and over. And now she would experience that sensation, vicariously, through Tessa. She felt the rapid moistening of the girl’s pussy through their link, felt the large tip brush against her split, wet lips… and then…

Tessa laughed evilly, withdrawing the link to Jean’s mind, sinking herself onto Shaw’s dark thick cock and screaming in pleasure as she was fucked. Shaw grunted in total pleasure as he felt Tessa accept him, enjoying the rampant lust that she had absorbed from the needy virgin redhead. He looked down at her, bent over, receiving his cock, and began to pound savagely into her, roaring with pleasure.

Jean collapsed onto her knees, tears of need and frustration cascading down her cheeks, her fist beating onto the ground as the sensation she had craved for so long was denied her. She could only watch as that proud, magnificent cock sunk deeply into the girl’s cunt, listen as she heard Tessa’s pussy being reamed so good, watching the raven-haired temptress drew on Jean’s sexual power and rose herself to orgasm, screaming in release as she rode harder than she’d ever fucked before. Then she slumped forward next to Jean, the redhead’s eyes immediately darting to the slick cock unsatisfied in front of her.

“I-I’m… not scared Sir,” she bravely piped up. “Not any more. I need it Sir.”

Watching Tessa slowly rouse on the floor, Shaw looked into the deep green eyes of the virgin he was so obsessed with possessing.

“What do you need young one?”

“Y-your… cock,” she smiled coyly, staring at the slick length, scarcely trying to imagine her first time, shaking now with excitement. “I need you to fuck me Sir.”

Never losing eye contact, she crawled to him, stroking his thick meat against her cheek, inhaling it, the aroma of Tessa’s juices merely sending more stabs of deep lust through her body. She captured the girl’s taste in her mouth as she licked at the shaft, trying to open her mouth to engulf the tip but finding herself unable to take it all into her mouth, Shaw’s girth being too much. He growled deeply as she began to masturbate him, sucking on as much of the dark cherry glans as she could, letting her cool saliva drip around the edges, jerked deeply into the length.

Shaw pulled her up roughly, Jean feeling her cunt rush, throb and leak as he speared her mouth with his tongue, his hand tearing at the corset, freeing her generous breasts. She cried out into his mouth as her tits were roughly pawed, squeezed and kneaded, and then… something else… cool hands on her ass, kisses on each cheek, soft wet licking… the indescribable rapture of the sound of her panties being ripped away, the cool air on her heated pussy. Then she came, a gush escaping her cunt as her ass cheeks were spread wide and Tessa’s tongue dived into her asshole. And as she came, she felt it. Wide. Massive. Thick. Pressing into her snatch. As she rode her orgasm, prolonged by the tongue lashings to her anus, she felt it spread her, move into her. So slowly… but so good. Shaw pulled her close, arms around her, their screams of rapture blending as he fucked hard into her, tearing through her hymen, pressing into her in a place no man had been before.

Jean’s orgasms didn’t stop, the rough tearing pain inside of her seemed to complement the pleasure and it took her higher. And this time, when Jean’s mind plunged into Shaw’s, seeking to rape his knowledge, instead she found herself in Tessa’s encyclopaedic minds, witnessing and absorbing every sexual more of the Hellfire Club. Shaw fucked her harder, deeper, Tessa pulling back, stroking her naked breasts on Jean’s back, attempting to concentrate on sating her hungry fuck-crazed soul, protecting Shaw’s mind.

Shaw was close… so close… and despite her long months of training, she began to feel her mind buckling under the raw pressure of Jean’s psychic needs.

*Sorry Sebastian… I can’t…*

Jean came harder, came deeper as she felt the massive cock tearing her apart inside begin to spit its thick load of sperm far inside the reaches of her cunt. Her mind speared into Shaw’s, ripping the sensations from him, her mind in particular revelling in the feelings from his prick as it rent her virginity asunder… then she dug deeper… deeper… his mind effectively raped by hers, the sensation of being taken far deeper, far more intimate than the ransacking of her body by the Black King.

He cried out in pain, somehow summoning the energy to pull himself out from her, slapping her down heavily, breaking the link, as consciousness was briefly snatched from her. Clutching his head, he collapsed onto the mahogany desk, the madness in his mind calming as Tessa crawled over, sending healing telepathic energy into her master’s assaulted brain.

“She’s… she’s too much…” he muttered to his assistant, letting her mind repair his, turning the maelstrom inside into nothing more than a fierce headache. “Too much… for any of us!”

“The White Queen could control her,” reasoned Tessa, staring back to look at Jean’s crumpled form, consciousness slowly returning to her. “But not for long… her power will only grow. It will destroy us all Sir.”

A moment of pause, despite the pain, a sly smile crossing his face.

“Have her delivered to Charles Xavier, Tessa. His compassion will work in our favour. He can tame her for us. Jean Grey will become a powerful Black Queen… and a worthy partner for my bed… that’s if she doesn’t kill him first.”

“And if she does Sir?”

“Then the Hellfire Club will have eliminated one of its most dangerous adversaries. Either way, we win.”

“Yes Sir,” smiled Tessa, turning her full attention to the redhead, black corset in pieces, make-up streaked with tears, her panties in scraps on the floor. A smile crossed Jean’s face, a look of sexual satisfaction, her hands reaching down to stroke her thighs, watching the thick wads of Shaw’s cum dribble from her stinging pussy. She tossed her long hair back, smiling widely, deeply… then she laughed out loud in triumph.

****

Everything fell into place now. Either unable or too scared to tap into the Dark Phoenix persona, Charles Xavier had re-assembled Jean Grey’s life, tapping into the darker side in another, far more complex manner than I had chosen. Now her mind was corrupt thanks to the mental conditioning of the White Queen, polluted with the perverse practises that were a day-to-day part of life in the Hellfire Club. Looking out over the vista of the Shi’ar datastream, I could see the ‘new’ Jean Grey’s life – how the life experiences of the X-Men since she had joined the School for Gifted Youngsters had now been slotted into his new, forever hungry sexual persona.

All that remained was the final piece of the jigsaw, the taming of this new Jean Grey, the establishment of Xavier’s mastery over this most exquisite of playthings – and for him, more than that, the mother of his beloved master race, the new rulers of the planet, those that would be capable of bringing the world under their power and then reaching to the stars. It took a monumental force of will to remind myself that this was now, all a fantasy. That I had prevented it. Ironically with the aid of my Dark Phoenix. But who was I fooling? I knew the way that the timelines worked. You can alter one reality, but the alternative timelines still remained in existence. The latest Shi’ar research on the matter had been conclusive.

Everything slotted together now. I had been given Xavier’s memories… Jean’s memories… for a reason. I knew that. And as soon as this was over, I would be able to make a difference. I just knew it.

****

The sense of comfort and belonging with the School for Gifted Youngsters was exactly what Jean Grey needed. These powerful feelings were easy to engender in the redhead’s revised memoryscape – Xavier simply drew upon history as is, with subtle changes. Over the days that followed, Jean made friends her own age, mingling easily with the other young mutants that made up the student body.

But during the night time, the demons returned to haunt her, the memories both personal and absorbed preyed on her mind, made her hungry, made her voracious, her appetites growing with every day she was denied release. In truth, Jean would have enjoyed fucking any of her classmates, a sick thrill running through her as she envisaged robbing each of the guys of their virginity. But all this was tempered with the savage realisation deep inside that her body was irresistible, but her mind was deadly. Tommy still in a coma, Wyngarde dead… even the powerful Sebastian Shaw barely survived their passionate encounter.

As the Black King suspected, Jean’s mind began to centre on Charles Xavier. She could sense the aura of his mental power, the sheer colossal presence of his mind around the mansion. Each day they meditated together and she knew that although she was slowing gaining a hold on the rapacious needs that drove her, another sexual adventure was inevitable. Every session together kept the demons at bay just a little bit longer, but inside the need grew stronger the more she denied it. And Xavier knew it too, but the sexual needs of a teenagers were something quite different from honing telepathic powers. Jean could detect his growing concern in every single session.

After six nights of frustration, only one course of action was now open to her. At two in the morning, still wide awake, her body now trembling with need, she arose from her bed, opening one of her travel bags from the Hellfire Club. Collating her make-up on the dresser, she looked into the mirror, first brushing her long, beautiful hair, then applying her make-up. Gone were the dark, sexual shades the Head Maid had preferred for her. Instead, she opted for lighter shades, smiling as a younger, more innocent natural look shaped her features, highlighted her deep green eyes and the lustrous shade of her red hair. And then she chose her clothes: push-up white lacy bra, matching panties and white stockings, finishing off her creation of pure teenage allure by choosing a light scent, spraying it into the air, and walking into the cloud, putting on a white silken robe and setting off from her room after one final look in the mirror. Her creation excited her, and with the confidence only a truly beautiful girl possesses, Jean Grey set off in search of her prey.

She had no idea where his bedroom was, but allowed her instincts and her telepathic powers guide her – the sense of Xavier’s mind so easy to track even on a subconscious level. She found her door, the metal door knob so cold in her hot clammy grasp. Closing her eyes, she turned it, biting her lower lip, opening the door just a little and slipping inside. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, narrowing with pleasure as she saw Xavier’s form under the sheets. A simple telekinetic command lit one the bedside lamps, and she padded closer to the bed, the feelings of anticipation that the Shaw encounter had given her were back and felt so good… and this time there was no fear. She felt in control, aware that even her rampaging mental needs would be easily handled by a psionic power as great as Xavier’s. She could concentrate for the first time purely on the sex, the sex she craved.

“You’ve been expecting me Professor,” Jean huskily pronounced, watching Xavier’s head lift from his pillow to watch her. “Don’t insult me by suggesting otherwise, Sir. From the moment you took me in, you knew what I needed…”

“Mental discipline, a control to your unchecked telepathic power,” Xavier replied, pulling himself up by his arms to rest against the headboard, his eyes flickering over Jean’s robe.

“And more,” she replied, opening her robe, revealing the curves of her young taut body, held in place by the virginal lingerie. “You knew about my… other needs. How I need to be… taken care of.”

She slipped off the robe, standing in front of the bed, her hands exploring herself, one travelling over the swelling of her breasts, the other down the sides of her soft, silken body, to her tight, shapely thighs. She advanced closer to the bed, cupping her mound and smiling enticingly at the Professor.

“Y-y-yes… yes Jean… I knew,” Xavier nodded slowly, his eyes opening as he watched the girl grope herself in front of him, the erection coming swiftly and painfully, a deep throbbing animating his chest, his breathing becoming fast and laboured. “I knew the moment I touched your mind. And it…”

“It excited you like you have never been excited before Sir,” Jean finished the sentence for him, crawling on all fours onto the bed, then rearing back at the foot of it, lowering one bra strap. “And you know that there is nothing I will not do. I will be the light of your fantasies for the rest of your life.”

Their eyes met, Jean crawling closer, straddling his crotch, only the sheets between them as she began to rhythmically slide her pelvis up and down over the bulge in the bed, dry-humping him with increasing force as she lowered her other bra strap, feeling his hand shoot out to pull down the cups, freeing her ample tits. She arched her back, dipping forwards, feeding him her left mound, her hips swivelling over the throbbing bulge beneath the sheets.

Jean Grey tossed her head back and moaned as she felt the sensations grow within her, that singular deep need taking hold within, waves rushing through her cunt, flooding her quickly, staining the virginal white of her panties as her need grew, pulling her tits away from his face, then stroking them against his cheek, a thrill taking grip of her as he growled in anger and bit down hard on her right nipple.

Her hands sought out his temples, clutching his head as he feasted violently on her soft, supple flesh, her mind opening, releasing. She chuckled as she felt Xavier gasp, the mental connection between them becoming unbreakable, the girl taking full advantage, beginning to corrupt his mind with the full burden of the sexual deviancies Tessa had implanted in her psyche, imprinting the professor with perversions he had not even dreamed possible. Jean rose up as she did so, creating soft telekinetic fields that pulled back the sheet that separated them, looking down at her lover, enjoying the sight of Xavier’s expression as unspeakable evils were implanted into his mind. She stroked her body against his, hard nipples teasing his chest, then brought her telekinetic skills into play, replicating the techniques that she had learned the hard way from Emma Frost, driving the professor to the limits of pleasure with the combination of her warm, soft, yielding flesh and the phantom caresses derived from her mutant mind.

His was the superior mind, more than capable of taking the mental hammering that her needs demanded, but she had access to the experience, to the moves and the sensations that brought sexual pleasure to a man – and to a man as relatively inexperienced as the professor, ensnaring him, making him beg for her was child’s play.

And then the final touch… her fingers digging deeper into his temples, she telekinetically shredded her panties, teasing his cock with the soft feel of her weeping vulva stroking against the spasming glans. She felt the thrill of power as she began to push down on the Professor’s prick, summoning up the experience of Sebastian Shaw as he had savagely fucked his way through her hymen, feeding the exact same sensations into Xavier’s mind as she deeply impaled herself on him, groaning in ecstasy as she felt him lose control inside of her, thick blasts of warm cream coating her inside. But still she rode him, and rode him hard… almost violently hard, the air alive with the sounds of their moans and the slap of buttock against thigh.

Jean was finding release in more ways than one. Her body convulsed in orgasm after orgasm, her fingers still locked onto Xavier’s temples, the Hellfire burden corrupting and warping the professor’s mind, remaking him as a fit master for a woman with her own specialised cravings and desires, then plunged herself into his mind as she fucked him, watching the dark events and practises settle in his mind, adjusting and adapting as they met with Xavier’s own power and intellect. Secretly, in her mind, now shared with the professor, Jean hungered to be used by him, over and over again, forever. She would continue her training to hold back the savage mental rape of her partners, but only with Xavier would she truly be able to let go.

Xavier’s conditioning was complete. He now had the perfect slave, bound to him for what seemed to her like all her adult life. The rest of the Shi’ar datastream simply remolded the X-Men’s history around this new life scenario. And in Jean’s mind, whenever sanity did take hold of her, her memories betrayed her. Charles Xavier was a monster because she had turned him into one – the final masterpiece of his mental bondage, creating a link between them just as intimate as the one between myself and my Dark Phoenix.

****

And the scene shifted, Jean Grey’s memory implant complete – back to the Danger Room’s holographic future fantasy, back to the Cerebro computer room, Xavier and his redhead slut locked in the sexual embrace. Jean fucked at him deeply, enthusiastically, with the knowledge and assurance of a woman with years of knowledge in pleasing her man. But Xavier’s face was a mask of undisguised sexual fulfillment as he finally took Jean Grey, his genetic destiny taking effect as he enjoyed the skilled redhead intensely, his own mental powers growing still further, a vast release of his latent mutant potential unlocked by his coupling, absorbing a great deal of Jean’s psychic might and assimilating it into his own genetic make-up. I had made Xavier more dangerous than ever. And yet… it all fitted into the plan.

When the holographic generators shut down, the memory transfer complete, he turned to me and grinned evilly, a look of knowledge and power in his stare as he leveled with me.

“I know who you are,” he stated matter of factly, as if the issue had been known all along. “Rachel Summers, Cable… sent back through time to ‘make a difference’. Just like you. The difference being that Scott Summers is not your father. I am.”

(IL) CHILDREN OF DESTINY

“So, so obvious,” remarked Xavier intently, looking deeply into my eyes. “And yet I had spent so long thinking you were another of Sinister’s experiments. Competition to my own plan.”

My heart beat faster and I found I was completely unable to say a word. The feeling should have been shock, even though in my heart I knew full well who Charles Xavier was – would be – for a long time now. But the simple fact of the bond being revealed to me was enough to strike me dumb. He smiled, chuckled to himself.

“The same choice of initial targets that I would have chose, and such a diverse, versatile range of mutant powers. You are not a genetic accident my boy, you are my greatest creation. My successor. Blessed with all the powers and abilities I would have chosen for myself, cherry-picking the capabilities of each victim as you… harvested them… no wonder my plans were doomed before they had even begun.”

He stroked his chin thoughtfully, “I suppose I should be thankful that there is a timeline where I was successful in all my intentions. That you came to be. But why are you here? Now? What you have done annihilates your own creation.”

Jean Grey straightened up slowly behind him. I could still sense the connection between us, more memories implanted in my mind animating her body. Memories from the future. Memories from the future Jean Grey… memories from… my mother. I was right. Jean Grey, the fuckslave of Charles Xavier, was my mother.

“What he has done is entirely by my design Charles,” Jean stated simply, hands on her hips, looking at the pair of us. “This body, this Jean Grey, isn’t me. I’m not even sure if I exist any more, not in this reality. Charles, you had to be stopped. But no-one could stop you.”

Xavier raised his voice to ask a question, until he realised that it was pointless. He figured that this was a recording. A message from the future animating the woman in front of us.

“What you have both experienced here began two months after the professor’s liberation from Sinister’s labs. He ripped the X-Men apart, turning the women into his toys and murdering the men, or driving them away. Once he had me, things went from bad to worse. I became a part of him, a female counterpart, a… consort. And with my power, he was unstoppable. Super heroes, super villains, they all fell. Anarchy broke out on the streets. Within months the political and economic systems had destabilised, the main political parties brought down from within by your agents, Charles.

“Mind-softening stations were set up in every state – massive amplifiers of your will – based on the Cerebro design. Violence stopped overnight, and when the presidential elections took place, there was only one real candidate, one winner: Professor Charles Xavier. Slowly, but surely, new X-agents were placed in every major government in Europe, Russia and the Middle East. A New World Order was about to take effect, even as China and the remaining, unaffected, free nations prepared for war.”

I looked on in wonder, listening to his amazing story, knowing it to be true, knowing that this message must have been stored in my mind for all my life, planted there – along with heaven knows what else – when I had been born. And this Jean Grey looked and moved differently, more in control of herself, more confident. Older and wiser, I suppose.

“Meanwhile, the professor continued at every attempt to impregnate me. And I wanted it, wanted to please him by offering him his heir, his chance to create the master race. I was born to bear his children. I knew that. I knew that Sinister had been right all along about me. But his grand experiment had something of an impact on the professor’s fertility. The delay in your conception was to be my salvation.

“The professor’s most bizarre sex game, mind-linking me with Rachel Summers, backfired badly. I wanted to experience all the fear and terror of being taken by Charles, the sweet sensation as her mind broke and her body surrendered to his control. Instead… some kind of mother-daughter bond broke through the conditioning. Now I had my own memories back, a new sense of perspective, but in a sense it was now too late. I could also sense the new life within me. After months of being inseminated by him, I was finally pregnant.

“Pregnant with twins. A boy and a girl. I just knew it inside. And I knew other things too. The dream of the master race died as Charles descended into psychosis, became more power-hungry than ever. My son would be murdered just as all other competition to his rule has been. And my daughter… she was to be my replacement… the new, younger Jean Grey, the new consort to the ruler of the world. A vision of genetically perfect female womanhood as devised by Professor Charles Xavier.”

And then, finally, the very last piece of the puzzle. My sister Stephanie. Indeed, in many ways a younger, physically more exaggerated version of her mother, naturally skilled sexually, an amazing fuck for one so young. My first desire. My first conquest. I reeled back at the knowledge, finally realising Stephanie’s grand importance in the plan, why she had been ‘apprenticed’ to the Enchantress.

“As soon as I knew, I ran. Rachel and I managed to locate Lila Cheney in the mutant resistance, getting away from Charles Xavier the only way we knew how, by getting off the fucking planet, contacting Lilandra, teleporting straight to the heart of the Shi’ar empire.”

Lila Cheney. A mutant who had long ago fallen to the Hellfire Club, capable of intergalactic teleporting. Very useful… if I had wanted to go anywhere. Such skills were nothing compared to the cosmic might I possessed, my absolute control of the Phoenix Force.

“And there son, you grew in my belly, while Rachel, Lilandra and myself planned to bring the professor down. And so we did, by using Rachel’s mutant powers and Shi’ar technology to send you back in time, safely anonymous until the time was right. And if you can see this message, then, by and large, everything has gone to plan. A genetic program was imbedded into everyone of your cells, giving you the power and the knowledge to prevent Xavier’s takeover. My only fear is that the strength of your father’s genetic coding is equal to, or stronger than my own. You are his masterpiece, his heir. You could be turn out to be an even greater danger than he. But I carried you son, I loved you, and deep inside I know you will do what has to be done, no matter what the cost. I gave you and your sister up, I made the ultimate sacrifice… and so… so will you. Please forgive me.”

I gulped deeply and Xavier smiled, looming large as he turned to me.

“How very sweet. How very touching. And you paid her back, how? By taking her yourself, turning her into that she most despises, not just a slut, a whore, but the Dark Phoenix herself,” he laughed, his eyes alight with derision. “And by following your true genetic destiny as master of the world, bending those slaves to your will… I have my spies in the Hellfire Club – I’ve seen things in there far beyond even my plans for the place, for the members. I’m right aren’t I, young man, you won’t give up the empire you have built, the new world that awaits you. You brought me into the plan because you need my help.”

“You’re right Xavier,” I replied nonchalantly. “I do need your help, I do need your power. But not to create a new world, but to destroy this one. Permanently. Just like my mother planned. Everything has been revealed to me now. I have full access to every scrap of knowledge I need to set things right, by annihilating this existence and every other timeline that surrounds it.”

“I will not destroy the world it is my destiny to rule,” he replied, his eyes steely with resolve. “I will resist you with every atom of willpower I have. I’ll die before I submit, and even if you do prevail over me, by the time we’re finished, there’ll be nothing left of my mind to help you.”

Now it was my turn to smile and chuckle.

“We’ll see.”

****

Dark Phoenix had returned to the Xavier mansion, and she had greeted me in exactly the same way as usual – a deep embrace, prolonged eye contact, a passionate kiss, her tongue eagerly seeking mine. I surrendered to the pleasure she gave me, enjoying the feeling of her body stroking itself against mine. I tried to push the knowledge that genetically she was my mother away from my consciousness. Our psychic rapport drew close again and I drew composure from it – she was aware of our link and it did not concern her in the slightest. Jean Grey seemed to be a part of her existence that was almost like a bad dream to her now. It was history.

She had dressed in an intensely arousing fashion, another sick perversion of the original Phoenix outfit – just the gold sash covering her modesty, black thong beneath, acres of her beautiful white legs on display. Her body suit was black leather, a small Phoenix motif on her left breast, the suit cut open drastically at the neck to expose her creamy white cleavage.

Our rapport stretched at distance, but our subconscious minds were always linked. Right from the beginning she had known exactly what I had known about the Agenda as the memory implants from the future Jean Grey slowly leaked the information into my mind. Indeed, I had the strong suspicion that those implants were also influencing my consort. I began to wonder just how much I was merely a puppet, how much I had ever been in control. I had performed some truly evil deeds – actions I had put down to the genetic imperatives my father had given me. But who knew just how twisted Jean Grey had become after years as Xavier’s slave?

The only thing I was certain of was that this was right – whatever the means, the ends would justify them. Stopping Xavier was one element of the Agenda. Now it was time to bring him into the fold, to add his genetically engineered might to our own.

“I’ve missed you,” Phoenix purred, again stroking herself close against my body, her hands stroking my ass, her thigh rubbing between mine. “And I promise that when we’re finished with Xavier, you will want me more powerfully than you ever have. And when we have succeeded, my body will reward you in ways even you cannot imagine.”

The feel of her against me, the soft sounds of her voice tinted with sexual promise, the way I felt when I inhaled her… I could feel the stabs of excitement flowing through my cock, every heart beat engorging my erection.

“Have you brought her?” I whispered, attempting to centre my mind on the here and now. “How is she?”

She tossed back her locks of dark red hair, looked into my eyes and chuckled softly. I should know the answers to those questions. It seemed like so long ago now that I had shared the mental rapport with my sister. In time it had weakened, enough for her to betray me. In essence I had swapped my sister for my mother.

“Let’s go and see,” she smiled, leading me upstairs from the main hallway to the bedrooms.

I hadn’t seen Stephanie for weeks, and my heart leapt when I saw her. She was preparing for what was to come and I’d caught her just as she drew up the second of the white lacy stockings, matching the white lingerie. The picture before me was quite beautiful. I could see now just how much she was Jean Grey’s daughter, it now seemed so obvious. Graceful, elegant, with an air of nobility about her, deep green eyes just like her mother. But these eyes were animated with a deep-seated sexual need, the look on her face the aspect of a girl who placed her own desire first. She was a predator – still only 16 years of age, with the appearance of innocence, but moulded by experience into the creature that would bring about the downfall of Charles Xavier. Here, in physical form, was his dream girl.

I moved to her, held her close to my body, feeling her wrap her arms around me deeply, moaning softly at my touch. I felt anger inside of me now – anger at what she was about to do for us, anger at myself for treating her so poorly as soon as I had enslaved the Dark Phoenix. And that anger intensified as I realised that again it was all part of the Agenda that had been controlling me. I reminded myself of what Stephanie was – Xavier’s replacement for his enslaved Jean Grey, a girl sculpted from conception to meet his idea of sexual perfection, the perfect honey trap for the great professor. But I thought of her suffering at the hands of the Enchantress… I was responsible and yet… perhaps the jealousy of the future Jean Grey had also played its part.

“It’s almost over Steph,” I murmured softly as we embraced.

I could sense the total lack of sympathy and understanding from my consort, the feeling of impatience running rife through her. I could also sense a building envy inside of her as she watched me with my sister, just as she had been jealous of Mary Jane and the relationship we shared. This was a part of my mind, of my feelings, that I would not let her access. MJ had suffered enough, I would not let her be hurt again simply because I… wanted her.

I could feel the Dark Phoenix move behind me, stroking the nape of my neck and kissing it softly, making me tingle. I could sense her needs, her deep-seated desire to be wildly fucked, an intoxicating drug that flooded my system. I let go of my sister, smiled at her fondly and stroked her cheek with the back of my palm.

“It’s time to go to work,” Phoenix stated simply, sitting down with Stephanie to make the final preparations.

****

“I trust you’ve been comfortable Charles,” Phoenix smiled as she entered Xavier’s bedroom, striding purposefully towards him.

The Professor looked over the changed apparel of who was once his most prized student. He stood, enjoying the view that the Dark Phoenix gave him, walking across the room to her to survey my greatest creation.

“My word Phoenix,” he sighed, staring at her, taking in her beauty from head to toe. “I should congratulate Miles the next time I see him. The work he has done on you has been quite breathtaking. He has moulded you into the ultimate expression of Jean Grey’s sexual appeal. The result of the Phoenix Force, I imagine, yes?”

“Amongst other things.”

His eyes scanned over her, taking in her perfect face, the small ravages of time totally erased, her larger, tighter breasts, her perfectly sculpted muscle tone. This Dark Phoenix was a goddess, a betrayal of the purity of the original woman. But there was something else – a connection between my consort and the Professor, a link where there should not have been one. I was confused… was Jean Grey – the original Jean Grey – truly dead? Yes… undoubtedly, but this was something else, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on…

“He has sent you to me, hasn’t he?” Xavier smirked, taking a seat, his eyes still enjoying the view as Phoenix turned to him, arms crossed, emphasising her beautiful tits. “He thinks that once you have practised some of your… magic… on me that I will be more susceptible to his will.”

“I could make you beg for me Charles,” Phoenix whispered, sitting on his lap, her arms around his neck. “I could give you ecstasies beyond your imagining as I take you into my body, fucking into your mind. I could give you the celestial, Professor.”

His breathing grew more laboured, the discomfort in his crotch quite evident, his cock unable to flood into erection, trapped under my consort’s thigh.

“Give it to me Phoenix,” he hissed, his eyes locked onto her large breasts. “I want it all.”

“Your mind would be unable to cope, Charles. Anything less than my best and it would merely be friction… your needs are beneath me now Professor. I’ve moved on to a higher level.”

She stood now, looking down at him in the chair. He tried to rise, to pursue her, only to find himself quite immobile, his body locked with the power of her mind. She shook her head sadly.

“You only ever wanted Jean Grey for what she could give you. A male heir to start your precious master race, a daughter to replace me in your bed. If I fucked you now, it would be meaningless, and if I enslaved you with the Phoenix Force, it would burn out the part of your mind that we need.”

“Then you are beaten,” he smirked, his cock tenting obscenely in his pants, his mind so easy to read. He expected sex. He knew it was coming regardless.

“Oh no Charles,” Phoenix whispered into his ear, leaning over him, “not at all… not when I can give you your dream. What you’ve always deeply wanted. What you yearn for more than anything.”

She moved back, kneeling behind his chair, smiling as she heard his strangled breath, the sudden tension in his body, his inadvertent moan of unrestrained desire. Charles Xavier had just seen my sister standing before him. His vision of sexual perfection, the image that had taunted him from the time of his sexual experimentation with Psylocke… when their minds joined, when his fantasies came into life, shifting reality to match his fantasy, this was the girl he saw. My sister, his daughter-to-be. Stephanie.

Her hair was long, flowing and lustrous, a perfect match to her mother’s. Dressed only in a thin lacy white lingerie, it was the most beautiful I had ever seen her… her enormous breasts were trapped, squeezed together by the white bra, her shapely legs were beautifully encased in the white stockings, the dainty panties modestly covering her perfect, shaven sex.

Looking at her from Xavier’s mind was a revelation – lust exponentially increased, his cock throbbing harder, deeper until the pounding overwhelmed his mind, the pressure of his pants against his prick almost unbearable. When he saw her, his perceptions blended between reality and fantasy, her perfection simply too much for his mind to cope with. Ever since Sinister’s experiments, his twisted mind had lusted after someone that didn’t exist, this beautiful girl that could only be created by his union with Jean Grey – I could see now that this was a part of Sinister’s plan, to add even more to the sexual imperative to impregnate her. This would be his reward.

“Charles!” Phoenix twisted his head around, locked eyes with his, enjoying the look of near madness that she saw in them – wrenched from his fantasy made real, panic now began to take over. “You see now how powerless you truly are. How you belong to us now. You know that, don’t you Charles?”

Already stripped of his will, I could sense the malevolence build up within my consort.

“Please…” was the single word that Xavier could mutter, totally immobile in the chair, knowing that his mind would betray him the moment he looked at Stephanie again.

“Tell me Charles,” Phoenix whispered, a hint of hatred in her voice. “You now have all your memories of the future we have now prevented. How many times did Jean Grey beg you for mercy? Even after you brainwashed her, reduced her to the level of a slut… and how many times did you listen to those appeals?”

Her cried out in need and frustration as Phoenix turned his head back to watch my sister, Stephanie enjoying the feeling of being totally desired by one of the most powerful men on the planet, Charles Xavier brought to his knees simply because he wanted her above all others. I could sense her excitement build within her. So many times she had been lusted after, but never had she had so much power before. The ultimate aphrodisiac. Power. Her own mutant capabilities began to kick in as she got in the mood. The original set of mutant powers that I had given to her so long ago.

Her pheromones oozed from every pore, growing stronger as she walked across to Xavier. The strength of the chemical onslaught caught the professor by surprise… he threw back his head and howled inhumanly – Stephanie was all he could see, and now she was in his nostrils, her scent taking hold in his mind, the aroma of paradise.

“Beautiful, isn’t she Charles?” Phoenix chuckled into his ear, still kneeling behind him. “It would have been so much easier if things had gone to plan. If she were born to us and raised ready for her duties as your fuckslave. Imagine watching her grow into your vision of perfection, shaping her destiny, ready for that beautiful day when she would take my place in your bed. How would you have schooled her Charles? How would you have prepared her?”

Something clicked. ‘A daughter to replace me in your bed’… she’d mentioned it twice now. That’s what bothered me. Phoenix had disavowed Jean Grey long ago. And her knowledge of the future Jean was far from intimate. The syntax was wrong, there should have been no ‘me’. But I could see what was going to happen. Phoenix was going to punish him, torture him for his future crimes against her, and break him that way. This was revenge. Was it all part of her game? Or were my memory implants from the future Jean Grey now animating my consort? Just how extensive were they?

Xavier screamed in frustration now. Phoenix had moved to join Stephanie in front of the prone professor, turning her around, caressing her shoulders and bare arms, then kissing her deeply, passionately. Even though I was only watching the scene via astral projection and the rapport I shared with my consort, it was intensely arousing, watching the two redheads (mother and daughter) frenching each other, wantonly, sloppily, the older woman’s hands exploring Stephanie’s body… stroking her back, cupping her ass and pushing herself closer, breast to breast.

When the kiss finally broke, Phoenix turned, chuckling softly as she saw the massive bulge in Xavier’s pants, his cock straining against the fabric, his face contorted in the agonies of total desire. She moved Stephanie a little closer to the professor, and stood behind her, lowering one of the bra straps slowly.

“I know how you would have prepared her Charles,” she smiled sweetly. “By making me teach her, by preparing her for you, instructing her on how best to pleasure you… by making love to her, bringing her to orgasm, whispering hot tales of how your cock would feel deep inside of her virgin cunt.”

Xavier squealed now as the second bra strap was lowered, the cups still resting on those large firm tits, the tiniest hint of nipple visible through the white lace. They took another step closer to his chair, Phoenix moving her fingers into bra, Stephanie arching her back, moaning deeply as her bra fell forwards, Phoenix’s hands covering them. Rubbing them, squeezing and kneading them.

“I can sense you Charles. I can sense the orgasm building in your pathetic little cock. I can feel the need to release. Look at her. Imagine these tits crushed hard around your prick, so soft, so good. Would you want to cum there Charles? Perhaps not… Imagine her tilting her head back as your rush of seed falls onto her face, into her hair, onto her lips. Imagine that grateful look on her face as you drown her in your cream.”

Stephanie smiled, stroking her back against Phoenix, turned on immensely by the dirty talk, her eyes locked onto Xavier’s bulge… he could see her hunger and it drove him on still further, deeper into his own submission.

“Could you last a couple seconds if you fucked her Charles?” she sneered. “It wasn’t a problem with Jean Grey was it? You were in control then. You would fuck her for hours just to hear her pitiful begging for release. You’d make her beg to be impregnated, warp and twist that feminine need to your own advantage.”

Xavier hissed in relief as his pants gave way, tearing, freeing his entrapped meat. A tiny telekinetic gesture from Phoenix, my consort knowing full well that what relief there was would be very short-lived.

Stephanie straddled the chair, now so achingly close to Xavier… but still so, so far… He growled in triumph as Phoenix’s hands pulled back, freeing her breasts to his hungry gaze, my consort unclasping her bra and tossing it away. Stephanie began to tease him, grazing those beautiful tits against his face, pulling back as he tried to ensnare a hard nipple in his mouth.

It was too much for the professor.

“Sorry,” he whispered, his body tensing, unable to cope any further, his hips involuntarily thrusting, a loud gasp shouting from him as he surrendered to the inevitable, as he began to…

“Oh no Charles,” Phoenix chuckled. “I’m not going to let you cum yet. You haven’t earned that right.”

Xavier convulsed in need, unable to climax, his body gripped in the power of the Phoenix Force, Stephanie holding his head in both hands, grinning evilly as she licked his face with the flat of her tongue, writhing against him, Phoenix’s mind telekinetically shredding his clothes, Stephanie’s body stroking against his. Even without linking with Xavier’s mind, I could sense the sheer torture as she now pressed her crotch against his, swivelling her hips, riding him, dry humping him. Stephanie moaned and laughed as she revelled in her sexual power.

“Please… Phoenix… please I beg… please… no more…god… please! Phoenix!!”

My consort merely crossed her arms and stood back to watch as Stephanie imprinted herself on him for now and all time. His sight, hearing, smell, feel… taste… everything was of her.

“It’s time for the bonding to begin, girl,” stated Phoenix matter-of-factly, her sadistic edge sated by over half an hour of Xavier’s screams of need.

Stephanie brought her left nipple to Xavier’s mouth, feeling him devour it deeply, hungrily, teeth biting down and sucking feverishly, her milk beginning to pump into his mouth. First a muffled cry of surprise, then deep moans of appreciation. He fed on her for some time, first one breast then the other. Stephanie may have been conceived as the fuckslave of Charles Xavier, but thanks to her experiences with me, the positions were reversed. All the powers of sexual possession I had given to her finally served their ultimate purpose.

I smiled cruelly as I watched her move the crotch of her panties aside, slipping his cock deeply inside of her soaking, ready cunt, Phoenix simultaneously lifting the hold on his body. He came. He came hard. He spurted deeply inside of my sister, seemingly unable to stop, his body quivering, his will broken.

“Good boy,” purred Stephanie, riding him softly, enjoying the long overdue feeling of cock deep inside of her. “Stay nice and hard inside of me lover… I won’t let you go soft.”

Her cunt effortlessly milked him, her body an instrument of absolute pleasure, tuned by the Enchantress and myself, now bringing new levels of exquisite rapture to Xavier. The ultimate lust of the professor had proved to be his undoing. He had conceived of a girl perfectly matched to his own physical needs… but she was too close to his vision of perfection. She was an ultimate fantasy brought to life. But the reality of that fantasy had been subverted, turned against him. His ultimate slave would now be his mistress, now and forever.

Cool hands wrapped themselves around my cock, and I emerged from my astral voyeurism to see the face of my consort, the Dark Phoenix, alive with triumph, kissing me passionately, straddling me, matching the position Stephanie took with her new toy, her hands taking my hardness and burying it deeply inside of her. My arms wrapped around her, unlacing her leather costume from behind, pulling the bodice away and burying my face in her breasts as she pulsed her cunt exquisitely around my shaft.

“I have a gift for you,” she smiled widely, bringing her hands to my temples. “Something you feared to touch… but as a man… something you need to experience.”

The fire spread quickly through my mind as ‘the gift’ was imparted, the need, the desire, the urge I had felt hundreds of times before exponentially increased to levels I had never experienced before… before I was overwhelmed I realised what she had done. The concentrated need of Charles Xavier, the total desire, the utter need to possess a woman sexually, to make her mine, to bury myself in her – the male sexual impulse accentuated to its totality when confronted with the ultimate fantasy.

In that split-second of realisation I could easily have stopped it, stemmed the transfer, stopped myself from feeling what was about to follow. A part of me tried to rebel, the part of my mind that was beginning to see this woman as my mother, not my consort. But in that moment a lot of things began to clear themselves up in my mind. So long ago I thought I had enslaved Jean Grey, drove her from her own body, re-created the Dark Phoenix from all the repressed sexuality the original possessed. But whatever our relationship was, it was no longer master and slave, no longer even the partnership it had seemed to evolve into.

I could have resisted what was about to happen, at least in theory. In practice, I had welcomed Phoenix’s long, lingering kiss when we had been reunited earlier. I had thrilled inside with a savage desire when she promised me her body after the business with Xavier was complete. And as the fire spread throughout my mind, my body, my soul… I welcomed it, enjoying the rush as I savoured Phoenix’s complete and total womanhood. And in those moments I begun to understand the torments that Xavier must have experienced, prevented from fucking what was, to him, the ultimate woman. I felt that need now, just a taste of it, and yet more powerful than any urge I had ever experienced before.

Phoenix wasn’t just a beautiful woman. Not any more. Now she seemed like every beautiful woman ever created in the history of mankind, combined into one creature of such exquisite beauty – beauty that thrust itself deep into my psyche, setting me alight inside, making me scream as the urge to impale myself even deeper in her burned brighter than an exploding sun deep inside of me. But this wasn’t torment for longer than a nanosecond. I wasn’t being held back, wasn’t being denied this expression of ultimate womanhood. I was inside of her. She was mine. And I would feast on her.

I knew what Phoenix had meant when she had told Xavier that she moved onto a new sexual level. The act might be similar to fucking, but for Phoenix and I, there seemed to be no more rise of pleasure leading to climax. As soon as the fires set me alight inside, I was reaching the human peak of excitement and we both cried out as my cum blasted itself deeply inside of her, her body exploding in pleasure, my mouth seeking out her magnificent tits, suckling from them as she humped me, my hands on her hips, forcing her down, making her take as much of my cock as she could handle, her velvety vaginal glove effortlessly pleasuring my hard shaft, milking the cream from me as my mouth claimed a similar load from each of her tits.

Deep as I was inside of her, it did not seem deep enough. I rolled her onto the floor, slipping her legs onto my shoulders, then forcing myself ever deeper inside of her, feeling another triumphant wave of climax rush through my body, concentrating in my cock, spurting deep inside of Phoenix’s convulsing form. I humped her deeply, aggressive, wildly… I saw her eyes alive with total abandonment, our minds linked together as deeply as our bodies, my mind submerged in hers as completely as my cock was enmeshed inside her eager, pulsing cunt.

She squealed and moaned so good with every thrust into her, her constant orgasms pulsating around my prick, building the hunger for her inside of me, my ejaculations now constant, smearing on the ground beneath us, between our thighs, her orgasms intensifying as the precious cream dripped into her ass. She fucked back at me like a tigress, rolling us over, pinning me down, rising like a goddess then straddling me, lifting my head and looking into my eyes as I felt my cock burrow between the cheeks of her ass, to the yielding pucker. There was a look of brutal, wanton glory in her eyes as she impaled her ass with my ejaculating cock, screaming in pleasure as she was taken, her cunt drooling my cum back onto my body, her hands smearing it into my stomach, then as the volume increased she brought her hands up to her own tits and rubbed it in deeply.

Phoenix was revelling in the sensations Stephanie had experienced – of being the centre of one man’s universe, the totality of his sexual urges vented upon her. But while Stephanie’s partner was, behind his mental power, simply a man. I was so much more. I was a god, and at that time, in those hours of madness, Phoenix was a goddess.

****

We had fucked until we had passed out. The intensity had been incredible, growing, becoming more powerful, but the fire inside burned out several hours later, and when the willpower fuelling our coupling had abated, the physical side quickly followed. I woke up in the morning on the couch, my skin stuck to Phoenix’s, our issue dry. Using the softest mental projection I freed myself from her without waking her and took a shower, wondering to myself if today was the day.

All the pieces were now in place. For what we had planned, the greatest mutant minds on the planet had been needed. Franklin Richards and Nate Grey, whose powers combined had created a universe – they had been a part of the Agenda for weeks. Rachel Summers and Charles Xavier. Jean’s daughter had the specific ability to project energy – even an entire human consciousness – into the past. The mutant mind of the Professor, grossly augmented thanks to Sinister’s experiments, would act as an amplifier, increasing Rachel’s power to its ultimate degree. And then there was me and Phoenix, providing the raw power to finish off the whole damn business.

I sat on the side of Lilandra Nerami’s bed, softly stroking her face to wake her. She opened her eyes slowly, those bizarre lids fluttering open, a look of sadness crossing her face as she saw me looking at her.

“You haven’t done it yet,” she murmured as she sat up in her bed. “You want to tell me again that it’s the right thing to do. Either that or the situation has changed and you’re here to… enjoy yourself.”

Despite the terrible burden I now faced, I managed to crack a smile.

“The knowledge I have of the future tells me it’s true,” I replied uncertainly, “And that knowledge comes from a meeting Jean Grey had with you in the alternate timeline.”

“The research was finalised days before I received Charles’s distress call,” Lilandra replied. “And whatever timeline we’re dealing with – whether it is this one, or the one where Jean Grey escaped to the Shi’ar Empire, the outcome will be the same. The entire phenomena of super-powered humans derives directly from meddling courtesy of Galactus. He’s been enhancing the genepools of promising worlds since creation began, and not just here on Earth.”

“He’s been fattening us up… making us all tastier morsels, ready for his eventual harvest…”

“And sealing the doom of those worlds eons in advance,” finished Lilandra. “Billions upon billions of lifeforms have died because somehow Galactus managed to survive the implosion of the universe that predated this one. And the final proof came in the subatomic footprint Galactus has left in all of his augmented creations. It’s the same whether you’re human, Kree, Skrull or Shi’ar. We’ve catalogued thousands of races with the same footprint. The truth is that we’re all going to die, sooner or later. However many phyrric victories Earth may score against the Devourer of Worlds, hundreds upon thousands of other worlds aren’t so lucky.”

And so, the plan my mother had devised had been simple. Bring together the most powerful superbeings on the planet. Combine them with the Phoenix Force. And send enough god damn power back through time to Event Zero – creation itself – to murder Galactus and remove his insidious taint from this reality, to let creation unfold in whatever manner it should. Sounds so simple, doesn’t it? One more murder to notch up to the Agenda, all for the sake of saving billions of lives. Save the Earth first from a Professor X gone mad, then save the universe itself from the greatest cosmic menace in creation. Simple.

****

I could sense them coming together in the headquarters of the Hellfire Club. Franklin, Nate, Rachel, Xavier, Phoenix… so much power in one building. I doubt the universe had ever witnessed such a collection of raw mutant capabilities. But the deeply worrying aspect was that I was no longer in control – I could not recall ordering this assembly, not vocally, not telepathically. Ever since Xavier had surrendered to us I had felt like the influence from the future was controlling me. All those memories must of come from somewhere deep in my mind and yet even the most detailed mental analysis of my own brain courtesy of the Phoenix Force itself could not locate the origin.

She was here now, in the room with me.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” my consort asked. “Worried about what’s going to happen. I was hoping that the ecstasies we experienced together might of at least… distracted you.”

“We’re talking about meddling with creation, we’re conceivably talking about universal genocide if it all goes wrong. And even if it all goes right, we’re still talking about mass murder. All the lives brought into being exactly because of the existence of superhumans. Including myself, I might add.”

Soft, but purposeful hands kneaded my shoulders skillfully, expertly shedding the tension away.

“Didn’t your mother’s message from the future ask for your ultimate sacrifice for a greater good? Surely you trust her… and even if you don’t, surely it’s too late to back down now. Think of all you have achieved so far. And think of the menace approaching.”

I stood, turned to her and looked deeply into her eyes. Was there more to Dark Phoenix than I could sense? Was our much-vaunted rapport far less than I imagined it? One thing was for sure, she no longer even carried on the pretence that I was her master. Clearly our relationship had moved on. Perhaps the knowledge that Jean Grey was my mother had affected her in ways I was not aware of.

“The final assembly has begun Phoenix,” I stated in a level tone of voice, maintaining the eye contact. “Did you arrange it?”

She didn’t even blink, not even the tiniest hint of a blush, nor the smallest dip of the head. Just this:

“I’m linked to you Miles. I am your consort. The Agenda animates me, just as it animates you. And I am to prepare you for the final phase.”

I looked at Phoenix deeply, staring into her eyes, trying to fathom her. This wasn’t the woman I had enslaved so many weeks ago. She’d changed. And it wasn’t just that she had called me by my name, something she’d never done before. That control I’d lost… I could see it in Phoenix’s eyes. When the realisation hit me, a rush of shock and fear wracked my body. The truth of what had happened finally came to me. Anger. An incredible rage inside of me.

Events overtook the revelations. The ground shook beneath me, the room rattled, the power of nature itself opening up beneath us. Phoenix and I linked hands, instinctively drawing upon the power of the cosmic energy that we controlled, our minds becoming one as we exercised it – the feeling beyond words as raw power rushed through our minds, our souls, our bodies – another ’quake, this time in Manhattan. Another big one. In Westchester we were too far, too late, to contain the effect of the devastation. We reached out in unison, our minds diving into the earth and absorbing the energy, the fury of the planet.

I could only imagine what must have happened to the city. And reaching out with my mind, I saw the impossible. Earthquakes had devastated entire reaches of North America. It was the beginning of the end of the world. But when the ’quake had been contained, when our minds had disengaged, the Phoenix bird-construct surrounded me with its energy, consumed my body. My mind was fixated on just one person, the cosmic power taking me straight to her.

What happened next… I don’t know. Images are all I have. Re-materialising outside the Bedford Towers. Or what remained over them. The destruction in Manhattan had been beyond absolute. It was ground zero. Skyscrapers were collapsing around me, you couldn’t breathe, the air was so thick with dust, the sounds of terrible screaming ringing in my ears. Collapsing to my knees as my mind reached out to find Mary Jane’s. When I didn’t find her, the Phoenix energy surrounded me, animated me, the construct surrounding me, the fiery Phoenix rising into the air, my rage at its core. I was only dimly aware of what went on. Rubble rising into the air, limp bodies being sifted from the wreckage. I couldn’t find Mary Jane, but I was searching for life, any life, saving it, protecting it, cherishing it – anyone with even a hope for survival was plucked from the disaster area. And when I could find no more, I felt myself rise into the air, traversing the whole island, the sky lit up with the Phoenix Firebird Effect as I combed the city for survivors. I was acting on instinct, all thought bereft from my mind as I struggled to comprehend the single most terrible fact I could have conceived. I couldn’t find Mary Jane. I’d never find Mary Jane. She was gone.

****

I couldn’t remember much from those desperate hours. Images flashed through my mind as I came to. Manhattan in ruins, fires raging out of control, buildings collapsing, the air heavy with dust. As the Phoenix energy rushed through my body I could sense the extent of the carnage – the quakes hadn’t just hit New York, they’d swept across the entire eastern seaboard. Other seismic disasters were brewing across the globe. My search for Mary Jane was manic and desperate – and yet I had very little memory of what had happened in those last hours. I’d saved lives. Hundreds of them, possibly thousands, as I wielded the Phoenix energy, sifting through the rubble, my mind attuned to the slightest presence of human life, rescuing any one who had a hope of survival. But don’t think I’m a hero. It was entirely selfish. I wanted to find Mary Jane. And I had failed.

“So… what happened?” I asked, trying to focus on the surroundings.

“You know what happened,” a familiar voice replied – the voice of Phoenix. “An earthquake struck, killing thousands… including someone very special to you. The death toll would have been catastrophic if you had not done what you did… and if we had not contained the very worse of the ’quakes to come.”

I pulled myself up on the bed, looked around. The chamber of the Black King in the Hellfire Club. What I might laughingly call ‘home’.

“You’ve been unconscious for just a few hours,” I heard her purr softly into my ear. “Your mastery of the Phoenix Force is almost complete. Only your grief held back the full exhibition of the power you possess.”

I looked into her eyes, and for the first time I saw something different in them. Something unknown. And as I touched our psychic bond, I realised that it was not as deep and intense as I had always thought it had been. Finally she was beginning to let her guard down, and only now could I see her in something approaching her true colours.

“There’s so much you have not told me Phoenix,” I stated impassively, eyes locked on hers. “I don’t even know who you are any more.”

She smiled quite sadly and nodded slowly, her hand seeking out mine, our fingers meshing.

“And now’s the time to tell you,” she began, taking a deep intake of breath. “Everything the memory implants have told you to date has been accurate. You are the son of a future Jean Grey enslaved by Charles Xavier. You were sent back in time by Rachel Summers and myself. You do have memory and genetic coding that would has brought about the whole Agenda. But what you don’t know is that at the same time you were sent back, the conscious mind of that future Jean Grey was sent back too, and hidden into the mind of this reality’s version of myself. And there it remained, dormant, until you set about… taking me.”

“Oh god…” I whispered, struggling to take this in. “You are my mother. But… but… you’ve been manipulating me all along, haven’t you? You’ve made me do all these… acts.”

“Miles, you are very much your father’s son. You cannot blame me for what you are. And I am drawn to you, attracted to you, bonded to you… just as I was to your father. More so.”

“And what about your daughter? What about Stephanie? What about your bond to her?”

“It’s… difficult to accept her,” replied Phoenix tersely, turning away. “We knew that she would be useful to you. We knew that she would be perfect weapon should Xavier move against you. But… on a personal level… well, Xavier intended her as my… my… replacement. It’s hard not to resent her. The things that have happened to Stephanie… don’t blame yourself, Miles. It’s my fault.”

“Why should I believe this? It’s all bullshit,” I whispered finally. “I should have realised when all those ‘memory implants’ started showing up. You’ve used me like a puppet. Whether those memories were implanted when I was a child or whether you’ve been feeding them to me in the here and now. You’ve used me.”

“It’s a combination of both. The deep seated memories were implanted in case I did not survive the journey back, in case Jean Grey didn’t survive until the critical time when you would begin to fulfill your destiny. But… you are right… I have influenced you. I have used our psychic link to manipulate you towards a particular course of action. Several times, in fact.”

“Why?”

“Because regardless of what has happened, the Agenda is very real. We were sent back for a reason. To stop Charles Xavier. And hopefully to set everything right again by ridding the universe of Galactus. Whatever I’ve done has been for the good of that aim. Even when I tried to poison your mind against Mary Jane, I did it because she was a distraction to you and the Agenda was in jeopardy.”

“The Agenda… these earthquakes… it’s no accident, is it? Have we caused them somehow?”

“Not directly. Galactus is coming, Miles, and the planet itself is preparing itself for Armageddon. He’s hungry, Miles. He’s sensed you. He’s sensed me. He’s sensed all the others – Xavier, the Richards boy, Nate Grey. He sees us all as nothing more than a feast. He’ll devour the world and all this carnage – imagine him just garnishing his dinner before he sits down to eat. We’ve got less than 12 hours before he arrives. Just a few hours to complete the Agenda, then you’ll be free. I promise you.”

My head started to spin, the surroundings blurred, the information I was being given just couldn’t settle in my mind. A sense of panic rushed through my body. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t believe all of this. It was like I’d totally lost my identity. I was just a weapon, a means to an end. No matter how worthy the Agenda may be, I wasn’t a free man. And what about Stephanie? What about her? I felt terrible and like such a hypocrite. Whatever Phoenix had done to me was nothing compared to the things I’d done to my sister.

The only crumb of comfort came from thoughts of Mary Jane. I realised now that I was myself with her. I’d been free with her. Whatever mental manipulation Phoenix had tried to turn her against me hadn’t worked. I could be free. I could fight back and claim my life back, away from the genetic imperatives of my parents. But I knew that the only way I could truly be free would be to follow the Agenda to its conclusion, to rid myself of the conditioning. Everything pointed to that now any way. This world was doomed. Whatever power I may have at my command, whatever power we may have access to via the pawns of the Agenda, we wouldn’t stand a chance up against the eternal cosmic power of Galactus himself if we tried to tackle him head on. I had to do it. There really was no choice.

Phoenix looked at me intently. She could sense my own acquiescence to Fate, our psychic link still strong enough to reveal my thinking to her. There was no choice. Either I die as the world is consumed by Galactus, or I die trying to save it. And without the seed of the eternal one corrupting our world, maybe there’d be a chance for the innocents, for people like Mary Jane.

“You’re ready, aren’t you?” I asked, looking into Phoenix’s eyes, quite unable to read her thoughts any more. “They’re all here.”

“They’ve all been mind-linked and ready for a while now, their powers combined are the single most powerful concentration of energy on the planet. We can do this. You know we can. All we need is the final component. You, Miles.”

And so I went to the basement of the building, my hair on end as the combination of nervousness and the feeling of raw power suffused my very being. Professor Charles Xavier, Nate Grey, Rachel Summers, Franklin Richards, Jean Grey… and now me. The six most powerful beings on the planet. I took my place at the centre of the circle and felt the rush, the blast, the explosion of pure energy at the most fantastical level. It had begun.

(L) WORLD WITHOUT SUPER HEROES

What happened next? I don’t know… well, I do know, but the words simply do not exist to describe the sensations that ran through my body, through my mind, through my very soul. In her phony ‘message from the future’ Jean Grey had talked about making the ‘ultimate sacrifice’ and I think I understand now what that was. We had the energy to make our way back to Event Zero, back to the birth of the universe as we know it. But to eliminate the seed of Galactus, I poured everything of myself, all my mental power – the very essence of my soul, my rage at the loss of Mary Jane – into destroying him and removing his taint from Creation. I was very much a part of that taint and by destroying him I should have been eliminating myself, erasing myself from existence.

But for every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction, I guess. Out of all of us, I was the one to extend myself, to push myself, to finish him off. And I can only imagine that this effort protected me from the changes I had made to the beginning of Creation, before catapulting me back to late 90s New York. Oh yes, I survived all right, I’m fairly sure I’m not dead. Not yet. Everyone else – Phoenix, Xavier, Nate, Franklin, Rachel – they hadn’t made the journey with me. They’d supplied the raw power to push me back to Event Zero to finish off the job. But I had made the killing blow, I was caught in the direct aftermath and must have been immune from the changes to the timeline. They were not.

The whole experience took place in less than a blink of an eye. I returned to Earth in much the same state as I’d left it. The same clothes, the same body, the same possessions on my person, just enough money to keep me off the streets. But I felt alone. So very alone. The psychic links I shared with Phoenix and my sister were gone. In point of fact, they themselves were gone. They never had never been. But more than that, the Phoenix Force itself no longer existed and robbed of it I felt desolate, vulnerable and withdrawn. Over the months I had grown to possess that god-like power, I was invincible, unstoppable – almost a god… but now I was back to how I was before the Agenda had begun.

I strongly suspect that I am the only mutant on the planet now. Oh yes, the powers that were my birthright are still with me. And I have used them in a muted way already to cement my position here in NYC. It’s all about survival right now. On this world I’ve never really existed. No proper social security number means no chance of a job. And what job would I be suited for any way? I came into this world with just the clothes on my body and the contents of my wallet.

I had initial success with my credit cards – the name was different but the numbers all checked out, so I spent a few weeks in the hotels I was used to and bought a few decent changes of clothes –the cash here is identical to the US dollars from my world, and I had several hundred bucks on me which proved invaluable. And from there, I could insinuate myself into the higher echelons of the social scene around here. In the last couple of weeks, my powers have taken me into the bedrooms of some of the city’s richest and most beautiful women. I feel like a whore, like I’m selling myself, because in effect, there is only one thing I want from these people. And that’s their money, their shelter, their connections. In effect, I’m an illegal immigrant here, but again, that’s something that can be fixed… if you know the right people.

What has been helpful is that I recognise a lot of people here. I know them from my world and in 80 percent of cases, they are almost entirely identical to their counterparts from where I come from. As a consequence, I have insights a stranger shouldn’t really have. And in that 20 percent of those who are different, for a few of them, the only real difference is that they’re no longer mutants. Xavier is here. Jean Grey and her family are here (but I stay well away). The same personalities, the same exceptional people, but no longer cursed with mutant powers, no longer shunned and hated by the people they wanted to protect. Their lives are worthwhile and positive. Things seem… right, the way they should be.

****

Weeks had passed as I struggled to survive, but I couldn’t get her out of my head. She’d been the only one that had ever made me feel human, who right from the beginning had managed to break through my genetic coding. And it didn’t matter what I did to her, Mary Jane always forgave me. I still don’t know why exactly. I know she came from a broken home and had suffered a lot of trauma in her life. I also knew that the pleasures I gave her could blow her mind, that they were the best of escapes from the harsh world she lived in. She’d found love with Peter Parker, but thanks to my schemes, Spider-Man was kept out of her life for good. That must have been terrible for her. But right from the start there was something special about her. And there’s a lot about us I haven’t told you about, things… personal things. If Phoenix hadn’t been messing with my mind, maybe we could have had a chance. Maybe. Or maybe it was all my fault. I ripped her life to shreds until I was all she had left.

But she was the real reason I went through with the final phase of the Agenda. With no Galactus to rip the world to shreds as he descended to feast on the Earth, at the very least she had the possibility of another chance here in this world. And it’s true. She’s alive, well, happy and successful. I’ve read about her modelling career in the celebrity magazines, I’ve loved her photoshoots, her lingerie work and she’s often in the press for the smallest of reasons just because she makes a page look so damn good. She’s just moved off to Hollywood to start work on her first major motion picture.

My flight leaves tomorrow.

Fini

~~~~~~